by Lou Kuenzler
“Together we can be brave,” said Esme.
“And strongy-strong!” roared Gawpaw.
“And as fierce as a tiger!” hissed Rascal, speaking in his own cat language. But I think even Esme understood what he was trying to say.
“Quiet!” bellowed Aunt Hemlock.
“Why hasn’t the spell turned them to stone?” screeched the banshee.
“What’s happening?” asked a wizard.
“This is a trick,” cried a warlock.
They would never understand the power we had. It was something far stronger than all their wicked spells.
“We have the magic of friendship!” I whispered, still clinging to Esme’s and Gawpaw’s hands on either side of me, with Rascal’s tail wrapped tightly around my ankle.
Then the most extraordinary thing happened.
There was a cracking sound above our heads – like ice breaking on a lake. The stony cloud shattered into a million tiny pieces. A shower of cold, sharp pebbles bounced off our backs like hailstones as the heavy statue spell splintered and fell harmlessly around us on the ground.
At last the pattering stopped.
“It’s over!” I cried. “We did it!”
All the stiffness was gone from my bones. The broken spell shimmered like shards of ice in the darkness at our feet.
“How dare you mess with our magic, Belladonna Broomstick?” Aunt Hemlock roared as the rest of the witches and wizards stared at us in stunned silence.
“All we did was look after each other! But you’ll never understand that,” I said. Now the stiffness was gone, I bent down and scooped poor shivering Rascal into my arms. “You’ll never understand the true magic of friendship, Aunt Hemlock.”
Before she could answer, Gawpaw leapt in the air beside me, making the whole crag rumble and groan. “Magic! Gawpaw almost forgot!” he cried.
He dug into his pocket and pulled out … a very dirty handkerchief.
“Nosey – no! Not that!” he mumbled. He dug into his pocket again.
“This!”
It was a slug in a jar.
“No. Not that either.” He dug again. “This! Gawpaw sat on it.”
“My wand!” I cried as he held out my precious pink flamingo pen – a little battered from being sat on by a troll, but nevertheless – my magic wand!
Chapter Twenty-One
Their spell might have failed, but the Coven weren’t just going to let us walk away. Not on Halloween of all nights… They were closing in, grinning horribly.
“You’ve caused enough trouble for one night,” sniffed Mother Newtbreath. “Especially you, whatever you are.” She pointed at Gawpaw.
“He’s one of Belladonna’s horrid friends,” said Aunt Hemlock calmly. “He was always hanging around the cave.”
“Well, I’m sending him back where he came from,” snapped Mother Newtbreath, and she muttered a spell:
Get away from here, you giant lump.
Go back to your hovel, you smelly chump.
A blast of bright green light hit Gawpaw in the stomach.
“Ouff!” He doubled up as if he had been punched.
“Gawpaw! Are you all right?” I gasped.
PARP! There was a sound of rushing air … and a horrid smell.
“Ooops! Holdy tight your noses!” Gawpaw wheezed. “Gawpaw did a…”
“Fart!” I hissed, grabbing hold of my own nose with one hand and covering Rascal’s face with the other. “Don’t breathe in, Esme!” I warned.
Gawpaw was still clutching his tummy.
The circle of witches and wizards staggered backwards as the dreadful stench took them by surprise.
“Sorry!” Gawpaw blushed.
“No! Don’t be sorry, Gawpaw! Do another one,” I cried. “I have an idea!”
Quick as a flash, I waved my wand over Rascal and Esme, trying not to breathe as I muttered a spell:
Fill our own noses
with the scent of roses!
Esme took her hand away from her face. “It smells of flowers … like Mum’s perfume.”
“But only to us!” I said. The Coven were still getting the very worst of the pong.
Parp! Parp!
Gawpaw giggled.
The witches and wizards were doubled over, rolling around on the ground. Aunt Hemlock, who was nearest of all, was flat out on her back. Wane was beside her with his tongue hanging out like a piece of string. Mother Newtbreath lay face down on the rocks.
“Run!” I said. “This is our chance to escape at last.”
“Not so fast!” Aunt Hemlock staggered to her feet and swayed. The fumes were wearing off already.
“Quickles, Bella B. Turn all of thems to stoney-stone!” hollered Gawpaw.
I spun around and held out my small pink wand.
“You’re right! The whole Coven can stand here as statues for ever!” I cried. “It’ll be a warning to any other witches and wizards who try to do wicked magic… !”
I lifted the wand…
One…
Two…
Th—
I let it fall.
“Hopeless!” spat Aunt Hemlock.
I shook my head. “I’m not hopeless,” I said. “But I don’t want to be like you. I don’t want my magic to be wicked.”
“Then you’re even more of a fool than I thought you were!” Aunt Hemlock cackled. “A hopeless fool! And you will pay the price…”
She lurched towards me.
“Do something, Bella!” Esme tugged at my sleeve. The circle of witches and wizards were coughing and staggering to their feet, closing in around us yet again.
“Don’t worry!” I whispered. “I’ve got the perfect spell for this lot.”
Aunt Hemlock stretched out her hand to snatch my wand. But I was quicker.
I waved the pink feathers in the air and mumbled my spell so fast she never even had a chance to hear it.
Turn-them-all-into-pumpkins-to-give-them-a-fright
Let-the-spell’s-power-last-through-Halloween-night.
Poof! A great ball of orange light spun in circles around Hag’s Crag.
“Wow!” Esme gasped as the golden dust from the spell settled. The circle of witches and wizards who surrounded us were now nothing but fat orange pumpkins. (Some still wearing pointy hats!)
“Well – it is Halloween!” I grinned.
Then I waved my wand again:
Make them forget this visit we made
And always wonder how this
trick was played.
“I do feel a bit sorry for the animals,” I said, looking at two fat frog-sized pumpkins and a shrivelled, leathery one which I think was probably Wane. “But they would never have let us escape.”
“Will they stay like that for ever?” asked Rascal.
“Just until midnight!” I said. “Then they will all return to normal.”
“Serves the wickedly witches right!” said Gawpaw. “They will miss their horrid-ey, hideous Halloween. No treats for them, just tricks!”
“Tricks – treats – oh my goodness! We must get home!” I said. “The grown-ups will be so worried about us. Come on…”
But Esme grabbed my hand. “I’m so sorry, Bella,” she said. “I should never have made you take me up on the broomstick in the first place. It was all my fault we ended up in the Magic Realm.”
“Nonsense! Let’s just get home to the Person World as quick as we can,” I said. “Although … if you really want to make it up to me, you can share your trick-or-treat sweets when we get back to Merrymeet!”
“Deal!” said Esme as we turned to run down the hill.
“Look out!” I cried. We nearly fell over a warty green marrow and a fat, squishy tomato. Both vegetables looked furious.
“Whoops! I think the marrow must be Aunt Hemlock, and the tomato is Mother Newtbreath,” I said.
“I thought you turned all the witches into pumpkins?” puffed Esme as we pelted down the hill.
“Looks like the spell went a little
bit wrong.” I smiled. “Aunt Hemlock must be right – I really am a hopeless witch!”
“Rubbish!” said Esme. “You’re the very best witch I know!”
Chapter Twenty-Two
At the bottom of the hill, we found both halves of the broken broomstick and I mended it with a speedy spell.
“Goodbye, Gawpaw!” I said. Tears were running down my cheeks. “I’m going to miss you so much. I wish you could come with us, but I’m not sure Merrymeet Village is quite ready to meet a troll.”
He turned away and blew his own nose loudly. “Gawpaw would not like Person places with their bathing tubs, toothy paste and shampong hair wash,” he said. “But I will miss you too, Bella.”
We hugged each other again and I scrambled on to the broom.
“Goodbye, Gawpaw,” purred Rascal.
“Thank you,” called Esme, blowing him a kiss.
“We could never have escaped without you,” I cried as we shot up into the air.
“Goodbye, three friends of Gawpaw. Come back to the Magic Realm soon!” he called.
“Goodbye!” we cried.
Seconds later he had vanished into the darkness.
Bam! Almost before I could turn my head again – the cold, wet Curtain of Invisibility hit us in the face.
“Ouch!” yowled Rascal.
“I still don’t know how something invisible can hurt so much!” yelped Esme.
“But at least we’re nearly home!” I smiled. “Look!”
The lights of Merrymeet were twinkling in the distance. We were back in the Person World, safe and sound at last.
“Remind me I NEVER want to go to the Magic Realm again!” said Esme.
“Me neither!” I whispered.
I would miss Gawpaw. But nothing would persuade me to go back there.
“I still have this,” said Esme. “But somehow I don’t feel like wearing it any more!” She fumbled in her deep pocket and pulled out my crumpled witch’s hat.
“I thought you left it in the cave,” I said.
“I wish I had after all the trouble it caused.” Esme held the hat well away from her at arm’s length. “It is a pity, though,” she said, shrugging. “I still won’t have a proper costume for Halloween.”
“Hold on.” I smiled. “I think I might have an idea … and it’ll get rid of any hex on the hat for good.”
I raised my wand.
This grumpy old hat gave us
a Halloween fright…
Now turn it pink and pretty …
with sparkly lights.
Ping! The ragged hat shimmered like a Sweet Twinkle Treat cupcake.
“Hmm! How nice!” sighed the little rip in the brim. “I feel quite fresh and tingly.”
“Gorgeous!” cried Esme, pulling the hat on. “I might not look like a wicked witch … but I am very sparkly one.”
“A friendly witch!” I said, as Rascal roared like a tiger. I pulled up the hood on my woolly cat suit and purred.
“And we’re just in time for trick-or-treating!” said Esme as we swooped over the village and landed safely behind a hedge on the lane.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Esme straightened her pink hat and picked up the broomstick as we all ran up the garden path towards my house.
“There you are,” cried Aunty Rose, standing in the lighted doorway with Uncle Martin, Esme’s mum and Gretel. “Where did you get to? We were just beginning to worry!”
Gretel was wearing her adorable pumpkin suit. Aunty Rose and Mrs Lee had wrapped bandages round their heads to look a bit like mummies, and Uncle Martin was wearing a vampire cloak and plastic pointy teeth.
“We thought you might have been too scared to come to our haunted house!” he laughed (doing a pretty good vampire voice, I must say).
“Honeysuckle cottage? Haunted?” I couldn’t help but giggle. “There are no real ghosts or ghouls here. And no real witches either. Thank goodness.”
“Apart from you,” whispered Esme.
Just then a wild-looking gang of trick-or-treaters hurried up the path. At least half of them were dressed as witches and wizards. But there were ghosts and zombies and werewolves too. Someone was even dressed as a troll.
“Hello!” I waved, recognizing Knox, the biggest boy in our class (although he would only have reached up to Gawpaw’s knees.)
“At least none of them are really scary,” whispered Esme.
“No…” I said slowly.
I had seen the shadow of a giant eight-legged creature fall across our path from the garden next door. I heard Esme make a little noise beside me.
“It’s Piers Seymour – he’s come as a spider!” she said. “I might have known.”
“But it’s only a costume. And I’m right beside you,” I said, stretching out to take her hand.
Then I saw her face in the lamplight and realized she was smiling.
“It’s OK – I’m not scared of spiders any more!” she said. “Not after all we’ve been through.”
“Hey! Aren’t you coming to join us, Piers?” shouted someone in a vampire costume.
“No!” The spidery shape stayed deep in the shadows at the edge of the garden. “I’m fine here.”
“Come on, poppet, it’s not that bad.” We heard Mrs Seymour trying to coax her son out.
“What’s going on?” I whispered. But as Mrs Seymour stepped forwards, bright security lights blazed on all across their garden.
Poor Piers was lit up, and we could all see his feet poking out the bottom of a giant eight-legged pink-and-purple spotty suit.
“Oh, Piers, poppet, I’m so sorry,” said Mrs Seymour. “But you still look very –um – scary…”
“This isn’t the costume I ordered!” he wailed. “It’s not even a spider! They sent the wrong thing by mistake.”
“If you’re not a spider, then what are you dressed as, Piers?” I asked.
“It’s an octopus!” Esme gasped. Little Gretel giggled so hard I thought she might wet her pants.
“They ran out of spiders!” groaned Piers. “They’re very popular at Halloween.”
His words were almost drowned out by laughter as he waddled back up the steps of his house, flopped through the front door and slammed it shut behind him.
“Oops! Bit of a hopeless Halloween costume!” said Uncle Martin.
He wasn’t meaning to be unkind, but that word, “hopeless”, echoed in my ears. Piers must feel like a total idiot … and I knew just how that felt.
“Poor lad,” said Aunty Rose.
“I suppose he was just looking forward to playing tricks on people,” agreed Uncle Martin. “After all, that’s half the fun of Halloween.”
“Tumbling Termites!” I muttered. I never thought I would use magic to help Piers Seymour. But before anyone could notice, I stepped back into the shadows and waved my wand.
Send Piers back out with his
suit all scary,
Make the eight long legs all
thick and hairy.
The front door to Hawk Hall burst open and a huge black spider came scuttling down the stairs.
“Whoa!” gasped the astonished crowd.
If Piers himself was surprised, he didn’t show it.
“I hope you are all frightened now!” he crowed. His voice was coming from somewhere behind the fang-toothed grin.
Me and Esme and Gretel and the trick-or-treaters screamed. But we were all laughing too … laughing so hard we had to hold each other up.
At last I understood – it was pretending to be terrified with your friends that was the real fun of Person World Halloween.
“That was you, wasn’t it, Bella?” Esme whispered. “You used magic to help Piers change his costume.”
“Don’t worry. He’ll never know how it happened.” I winked.
“I’m just glad you did!” she whispered. “Everyone deserves a happy Halloween. Even Piers Seymour.”
“Trick or treat?” asked Uncle Martin, straightening his vampire teeth.
Suddenly Piers appeared beside me. “You did this to my costume, Bella Broomstick,” he hissed in my ear.
“Erm…” My heart was thumping.
“There is no point denying it,” he whispered. “I’ve worked it out – you used magic before. I had a dream once you turned me into a worm, but I think it must have been real, and then you made all those bunnies appear. You’re a witch, aren’t you? A real witch?”
“Maybe…” I took a deep breath. “OK – yes, I am. But it’s a big secret. Can I trust you?” I asked.
Piers paused for a moment. Then he nodded his big hairy spider head. “Yes. And – thank you for making such a brilliant scary costume,” he said.
“You’re welcome!” I smiled as I held out my hand to shake one of his long hairy legs. “That’s what friends are for!”
Esme was right: everyone did deserve a happy Halloween. Well, almost everyone…
Aunt Hemlock and the Coven would just have to wait until next year to have their horrible fun.
Acknowledgements
It is spooky how wonderful everyone at Scholastic has been. Thanks to you all! A special pumpkin parade to my brilliant editor, Genevieve Herr, eagle-eyed Pete Matthews, Samuel Perrett for design, Olivia Horrox, Jade Tolley and all the publicity, rights and sales teams. Also trick-or-treat sweets for Claire Wilson and Rosie Price at RCW. And thank you, Sophie McKenzie, for your scarily good advice!
Bella + magic = trouble!
Bella Broomstick is a HOPELESS witch. So hopeless that Aunt Hemlock sends her to live in the person world – where she’s banned from doing magic! But when Bella discovers a kitten, she can’t resist trying a spell. And one spell always leads to another…
Bella is back – and that means TROUBLE!
It’s time for young witch Bella to start school, and that means making friends and fitting in. But soon she’s tempted to make just one little spell. That can’t hurt … can it?
Also by Lou Kuenzler
Scholastic Children’s Books
An imprint of Scholastic Ltd
Euston House, 24 Eversholt Street
