Caution: Witch In Progress

by Lynne North

  ‘Hello!’ called Gertie, excited at the sight.

  ‘Bog off,’ replied the monster sourly, sinking back into the moat.

  Gertie frowned in surprise. ‘MR MONSTER,’ she shouted again.

  ‘WHAT?’ asked the monster, rising so quickly that stinky water cascaded back into the moat with loud splashing noises. ‘You are becoming VERY hard to ignore,’ he added in a grumpy voice.

  ‘Are you alright?’ asked Gertie in concern.

  ‘I WOULD BE IF SILLY LITTLE PEOPLE WOULD STOP SHOUTING FOR ME AND ASKING ME SILLY LITTLE QUESTIONS,’ bellowed the monster in quite a nasty way.

  ‘I think something must be bothering you,’ Gertie persisted.

  ‘Yes, it’s YOU,’ came the angry reply as water splashed again.

  ‘No, I mean really bothering you,’ replied Gertie, ‘or you wouldn’t be so grumpy.’

  ‘Me? Grumpy?’ the moat monster asked. He raised his lidded eyes skywards, then was quiet for a while. ‘Hm, I’m not usually stuck for something to say. You’re strange though. And you look different. People don’t often pay me much attention as a rule. Well, not any attention actually. If they do, a bog off usually does the trick. I often get a similar reply in return, then off they go.’ He stared at Gertie again.

  ‘Well?’ she asked.

  ‘Well what?’ he replied.

  ‘Is something troubling you?’ tried the little witch again.

  ‘Well, now that you mention it,’ replied the moat monster, ‘I do have a pretty lousy stomach ache…’

  ‘There!’ replied Gertie, ‘I knew it.’

  ‘…most of the time actually’ he added, seeming to be enjoying the attention now.

  ‘I can always tell,’ Gertie carried on. ‘No one is grumpy without a good reason. Apart from Bat, but that’s just Bat.’

  ‘Who?’ asked the monster.

  ‘Never mind,’ replied Gertie, not wanting to explain why she had a talking umbrella. ‘Just wait there a minute.’

  To her amazement, the monster did.

  Gertie soon returned with some leaves.

  ‘Here,’ she said, reaching her hand out to him and passing the leaves over. ‘Chew these. They’ll make you feel better.’

  A green slimy hand ending in long sharp claws lifted from the water and carefully took the leaves from Gertie.

  ‘But…’ the moat monster began. ‘They’re…leaves…’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ replied Gertie. ‘It’s just mint and a few other herbs. Go on, don’t be a big softy. Chew them. You’ll feel better.’

  The monster stared again in horror at the leaves in his hand. ‘Promise?’ he asked.

  ‘Promise,’ reassured the little witch.

  The moat monster held his nostrils with one hand, threw the leaves into his gaping mouth with the other, and began to chew madly, making little noises of disgust. ‘Uhm, I suppose they don’t taste too bad,’ he decided at last. He chewed in concentration, and swallowed. ‘OH!’ he said, looking alarmed. ‘I was supposed to swallow them, wasn’t I?’

  ‘Yes, don’t worry,’ said Gertie with a smile.

  After a while looking deep in thought, the monster began to say, ‘I don’t feel any better…’ He then interrupted himself with a long, loud, rude and rumbling noise that sent smelly bubbles rising to the surface of the moat and popping. ‘oh, that’s better,’ he said finally. ‘Gosh thanks, Pipsqueak.’

  ‘Gertie,’ replied Gertie.

  No matter how often she reminded him of her name, from that day forward the moat monster always addressed her as Pipsqueak. Gertie didn’t mind. She knew, now, he wasn’t being nasty. Anyway, she guessed that to him, she was a pipsqueak.

  ‘What’s your name?’ Gertie asked. ‘I can’t keep calling you Mr Monster.’

  ‘Well, uhm, I’d rather not say,’ replied the monster evasively.

  ‘Why ever not?’ she asked. ‘Don’t you like your name?’

  ‘No,’ he replied. ‘Well, I guess it’s okay, but it’s not the best name for a monster.’

  ‘What is it?’ Gertie coaxed. ‘Go on, you can tell me.’

  ‘Promise you won’t tell anyone?’ asked the monster.

  ‘Of course I won’t,’ Gertie promised. ‘And I’ll tell you a secret too, so you’ll feel better. My name is actually Gertrude, but I don’t like the ‘rude’ bit.’

  ‘Oh no, neither would I,’ the monster agreed. ‘Okay then. My name is Mervin.’

  ‘That’s a very nice name,’ said Gertie.

  ‘Do you think so?’ asked Mervin.

  ‘Yes, it suits you. Mervin Moat Monster.’

  ‘Uhm. I never thought of it like that before. I guess it does sort of have a ring to it.’ Mervin agreed. ‘Still, don’t tell all your friends. Okay?’

  Gertie almost told him she only had one friend to tell, but decided she didn’t need to mention it. She wouldn’t even tell Bertha if Mervin wanted to keep his name secret.

  ‘Your name is our secret,’ said Gertie. ‘I’ll keep popping back to see how your tummy is. Right now, I’m off to see my friend, Wart. He’s a toad you see.’

  Mervin didn’t see, but said ‘Gee thanks. I do get stomach ache a lot. Probably the stuff I eat in here. See you soon then, Pipsqueak!’

  Gertie waved, and headed towards the pond. She was very pleased with herself because she had made a new friend, and he was nice. Well, he was now. He might be a little embarrassing in company though.

  Gertie arrived at the pond in time to see Wart swimming around a lily pad, obviously showing off. Sat in the middle of the lily pad, and watching in admiration, was Wart’s friend. Gertie watched them for a few minutes until Wart spotted her and headed over, without having to be called. That pleased the little witch. Even though Wart had found himself a new friend, he still wanted to be friends with her too.

  ‘Hello, Wart!’ she called in greeting. ‘And hello…er, now what can I call you?’ she asked the smaller toad.

  Wart’s friend jumped off her lily pad and swam over too.

  ‘I know!’ decided Gertie all of a sudden. ‘I’ll call you Lily, because that’s where you were sat. Do you like that, Wart?’ she asked, picking him up for his stroke.

  ‘Croak,’ replied Wart.

  ‘Goody! That’s settled then.’

  Rather than sitting contentedly still for his stroke as Wart usually did, he seemed very agitated today. He wriggled about a bit, and kept looking down at Lily, who was in turn looking up at Gertie.

  ‘What is it, Wart?’ Gertie asked. She had the strongest feeling that if Wart could, he would actually be pointing at Lily.

  ‘Do you want me to pick her up, Wart?’ Gertie asked, rather confused.

  ‘Croak!’ said Wart in a higher tone.

  ‘But, Wart, you do remember what happened when I first stroked you don’t you?’ Gertie asked. ‘You lost all your lovely warts.’

  ‘CROAK!!!!’ said Wart, even higher and louder.

  Gertie pondered a moment and stared at Lily, who had jumped out of the pond and was staring up, anxiety in her bulbous eyes.

  ‘Do you want to lose your warts?’ Gertie finally asked the small toad.

  Lily croaked for the first time. Wart was now wriggling madly.

  ‘Be careful, Wart!’ warned Gertie. ‘I don’t want to drop you.’

  Bending down, she crouched on the grass by the pond and put Wart next to Lily. Gently, she reached out for Lily. The little toad leapt into her hand so fast, Gertie almost missed catching her.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Gertie asked before beginning to stroke the little toad.

  ‘Croak,’ agreed Lily.

  ‘Well, I’ll try,’ began Gertie. ‘But, things don’t always turn out as I intend them to,’ she warned.

  Four black eyes stared at her expectantly as she looked from Lily, to Wart, then back again.

  Closing her eyes to concentrate properly, Gertie began to gently stroke Lily’s warty back. She then thought what Miss Fiendish had said about circular widdershins mov
ements. The young witch stroked Lily in little circular, anticlockwise motions. Gertie thought Lily’s back was feeling smoother under her touch, but didn’t want to check yet. She was afraid the little toad might have turned pink, or something equally unexpected. Gertie continued to stroke Lily’s back for a while longer, then stopped and placed Wart’s friend back on the ground without even opening her eyes. She didn’t hear any frantic croaking. Finally, she plucked up the courage for a peep. Wart and Lily were hopping and capering about like mad things. Lily’s back was now as silky smooth as Wart’s!

  Gertie clapped her hands in glee. She could get things right, and it was all thanks to Miss Fiendish! She couldn’t wait to tell her. But no, maybe she shouldn’t. Witches liked warts after all. Maybe it would be better if she didn’t mention it. It could well be seen as another mistake. Oh dear. Life could be so confusing for a nine year old witch. Soon to be ten, she corrected herself. She decided to go back to see if Bertha was up yet, so they could talk about their visit to Vile Vale next weekend for her Birthday.

  As Gertie approached the Academy, she heard the dinner gong being sounded. Now she didn’t need to go in search of Bertha. She knew exactly where she would be.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Gertie’s next new lesson would be on Wednesday when everyone had to take their familiars along to class with them. Gertie had a good long talk with Owl about it. She asked him to be on his best behaviour, and in particular not to try to eat any of the other familiars. The little witch knew for a fact that at least one of the other pupils had a rat for their familiar. Owl was quite partial to rats and mice on his night hunts. Not that he caught any unless they were already dead. He never got to spot a moving one.

  Owl blinked at Gertie in understanding. Well, Gertie thought he did. What was probably going through Owl’s mind was, what are you going on about now? Just get on with the ear scratch. She began to scratch his ear.

  Gertie had another herbal class with Miss Fiendish early in the week, which she enjoyed immensely. She also had another Voice class that she didn’t enjoy at all. It wasn’t in Gertie’s nature to sound forceful. Maybe if she was genuinely angry she could, but not in a make-believe way in class. It all felt very silly to her.

  The rest of the time before Wednesday was set aside as study periods for practising what they had already learned; and reading suggested passages from books in the library. Bertha readily accepted them as rest periods, and did just that. She depended on Gertie explaining what she should have read to her.

  Gertie knew Bertha hadn’t taken to any class. They were all a bit too much like hard work. Gertie tried to help her, and even insisted they took a walk to the herb garden and wood together to try to get Bertha to recognise some plants for Miss Fiendish’s class.

  Bertha agreed, as long as they didn’t have to walk very far. Bertha’s idea of very far was quite a bit different to anyone else’s. She also insisted on bringing biscuits along to give her energy. It all turned out to be a bit of a waste of time as Bertha simply wasn’t interested. Gertie could point out something as easy as an oak tree and tell Bertha what it was, and then two minutes later the big girl had forgotten.

  Gertie decided Bertha would only pay enough attention to remember a tree if it grew chocolate. She gave up.

  Passing the moat on the way back, Gertie spotted Mervin.

  ‘Hello Mer…Mer…’said Gertie again, remembering her promise and thinking about Bertha walking next to her. ‘M…Moat Monster!’ she cunningly changed his name to. Bertha didn’t seem to notice. Actually, she didn’t notice much unless it was edible.

  ‘Hi, Pipsqueak!’ Mervin called back. ‘Say, any chance of more of those leaves?’

  Bertha looked a little jealous that the moat monster was actually talking to, and waving at, Gertie. She said she had never known him talk to anyone, apart from in short phrases ending in ‘Off’. She told Gertie she was tired and was going for a lie down, so Gertie scuttled off to get Mervin his leaves. This became a regular occurrence. She soon began to get used to his rude noises, at least his stomach must feel better without all that trapped wind.

  Wednesday came quite quickly. Soon after breakfast a weird and wonderful assortment of creatures walked, flew, crawled, slithered or were carried, down the dark and dusty flagged corridors towards a large ground floor classroom in the west wing. The pupils had quite a time preventing fights breaking out as snarls, growls, hisses, squawks and the like resounded off the thick stone walls.

  Mr Daemon was there early and first in the class, obviously to prepare for any problems when the mixed assortment of familiars all met up in the classroom. A few had seen each other before, here and there, but this was the first time they had all been collected together in one room. Gertie had heard it said that the initial Familiars class was always quite an experience.

  Gertie and Bertha arrived early too as usual, to grab those all important desks at the back.

  ‘Hello, hello, come along and take a seat,’ called Mr Daemon. He was a bit short for a warlock, and older than the other teachers. His hair was almost gray. Surprisingly, he actually looked quite nice and cheerful. Those were words that didn’t usually go together when talking about witches and warlocks. Gertie decided she liked him, and smiled back as she took her seat. Bertha was carrying Jasper. He could only manage a few steps before he lay down wherever he happened to be at the time, panting in short gasps. Not unlike Bertha. The name Gasper would probably have suited the dog better, a fact that Fang had pointed out on several occasions.

  Owl sat quietly on Gertie’s shoulder, probably because he had no idea where he was, or why. He didn’t seem to care much either. Gertie thought he was quite a laid back sort of fellow, and trusted her not to lead him into any harm. As a familiar, it should have been the other way round with Owl doing the protecting; but Gertie decided no one had told Owl that.

  It wasn’t long before the room began to fill up. Gertie had never seen such an odd assortment of creatures together in one place before. There were several cats, toads, owls of various kinds, dogs, and a weird assortment of very unusual creatures. All the familiars were quite well behaved once in the class too, considering they were of so many kinds and sizes. Many had a natural hatred of each other, such as the cats and dogs. Gertie soon noticed that Mr Daemon seemed to be casting a spell on each one as it was brought into the room. He was staring at them intently and muttering something, anyway. Whatever it was, it was having the effect of stopping the creatures from arguing, or in some cases trying to rip each other’s heads off. Gertie decided Mr Daemon needn’t have bothered putting one on Owl. He couldn’t make out anything in the room anyway. He was currently having a bit of a nod on her shoulder.

  Jasper gave a small bark when he saw Malicia arrive with her familiar, a large black cat. Jasper’s usual lazy nature combined with the spell however meant that he couldn’t be bothered doing anything else.

  Diablo, Malicia’s familiar, gave Jasper a look of superior disgust with his evil green eyes, then turned away. Jasper was below his contempt. Diablo appeared to be as proud as his owner, and that was very proud. They both spent most of their time with their noses well in the air. Not that the word owner was perhaps the right one when talking about a cat, No one owned a cat, and most especially a cat like Diablo. He looked like he had never forgotten the fact that back in history, cats had once been worshipped as Gods. Diablo obviously believed he still had the right to be.

  Fang followed soon after Malicia, as usual. They were two of a kind. Fang had Vlad, his bat, with him. They both had the same dark spiteful eyes. Fang was passing Ghoul’s desk, and happened to glance at what was on it.

  ‘What…is that’ he asked in disgust, spraying Ghoul as he spoke.

  ‘It’s a chameleon,’ replied Ghoul with pride.

  ‘So, why is it bright blue when it’s sat on your brown desk?’ asked Fang in a mocking tone.

  ‘Ah, well, there’s a story behind that…’ began Ghoul.

  Fang r
aised his eyes skywards, but stayed to listen anyway.

  ‘I felt really sorry for Charlie,’ continued Ghoul pointing at his now yellow familiar, ‘because he could only ever change a few boring, dull colours. He changes because of differences in temperature you know, or light, and mood, he…’

  ‘AND?’ interrupted Fang, clearly not wanting a biology lesson.

  ‘R…Right,’ replied Ghoul, showing his fear of Fang. ‘Well, I thought he might enjoy other colours too, so he could change to the colours of his own choice. Anyway, I pestered my ma until she cast a spell on him. It worked well, look!’ said Ghoul, pointing to his purple chameleon.

  ‘But, he’s supposed to be the colour of his surroundings as a protective disguise, Dummy,’ snorted Fang.

  ‘I know,’ murmured Ghoul sheepishly. ‘But now, he has so many colours to choose from, I think he gets a bit confused. I think he might be a bit colour blind too…’ offered Ghoul by way of explanation.

  Fang took one last look of disgust at an orange Charlie with yellow stripes, and then moved on to torment someone else.

  Fiendly had brought a huge spider called Boris. Gertie thought it was probably poisonous. It certainly looked it.

  Clawd was proudly telling everyone that his rat had a special sixth sense for death and disaster. Gertie thought it would be very depressing to have him for a familiar.

  Nastassia placed a big jar containing a praying mantis carefully on her desk. Gertie had seen him before, and knew he was called Killer. Although it was an unusual name for an insect, Gertie soon began to see the sense in it. Killer had one of the most evil glares she had ever seen. If anyone passed too close to him, he turned his triangular shaped head towards them, and gave them a terrible look with his huge bulbous eyes. Gertie didn’t know anyone who hadn’t taken a step back when he did it. Pea green in colour, and only four inches in length, Killer gave every appearance of being a very small, trained assassin.

  The only creature in the room that Killer seemed to have any fear of was Fang’s bat. Whenever Vlad was anywhere near, Killer kept well clear and held his spiny front legs together as if praying not to be spotted. He clearly did not like bats. Probably because of their known liking for the taste of juicy praying mantis.