Briallen Bevin and the Snatcher's Cave

Chapter 2: Excuses and Explanations

Will Bevin paced back and forth on the front porch of his house, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. He had put on a clean button-down shirt, a new pair of denim jeans and the least-scuffed pair of brown loafers he owned. His dark blonde hair was slicked back with gel in an unusual, though fancy, style and he had trimmed his beard. Every few seconds he would pause in his pacing and look towards Polk highway for his father's unmistakable antique Oldsmobile 98 coupe in fire engine red - a car that stuck out in a county full of dirty trucks and old station wagons.

He remembered a week ago last Friday when his father, Cal Bevin, had sent his daughter, Briallen, an invitation to attend Bergamot Academy, where Cal was Dean. His invitation wasn't the only one, however. Briallen had received acceptance letters to six other schools of magic. Until that day Will had always though of his father as a rather boring, but hard to dislike, old man. At this moment, though, he found it easier than ever to despise his father.

Briallen suddenly appeared at the screen door, her nosed pressed so far against the screen that small blobs of skin poked through the tiny holes. "Any sign of Grandpa yet?"

"No," said Will in almost a whisper. "He still has five minutes."

"You sure you don't want me to wait for him since you're angry and all?"

"No, thank you, Briallen," said Will, annoyed. He turned to look at his little girl. "Aren't you scared or nervous at all? Or angry, even?"

Briallen pulled away from the door and shrugged her shoulders. "No, why would I be any of those things? This is so exciting! I can't wait to learn my first spell."

"Nonsense! This is all just nonsense! I know Grandpa said in his letter that he would never joke about family or education but, Briallen; you need to understand that none of that stuff is possible. It's all just make-believe - the fantasies of small children."

"No it's not! Grandpa Cal isn't mean like that! He would never - he'd never lie to me!" screeched Briallen in such a way that Will could not tell if she was sad or angry.

"Then aren't you just a little bit angry that he didn't tell us before?" begged Will. His daughter's vehement defense and support of his father was beginning to chip at his own belief that magic schools and witches and wizards didn't exist. But he couldn't let himself accept it. He had to be the adult, though it pained him knowing how hurt Briallen would be when she realized that she really wasn't a witch.

"Daddy, last year Miss Simmons taught us about the Salem Witch Trials. People were hurt and killed because other people who were afraid of anything different thought they were witches and warlocks. I think that's a pretty good reason to keep magic a secret."

Will Bevin shook in pent up anger. "We're family, though! He could have at least told us! He - oh, Hell - what am I saying? He's having a laugh at our expense is all. Your mother's ready to give him a good scolding for it too."

"Just don't run him off before he has a chance to talk to me," said Briallen, shaking her head at Will.

She turned away from the door and her father and walked down the hallway beside the stairs to the dining room and kitchen, where her mother was. She stopped when she got to the mirror that was across the bathroom under the stairs, and checked her appearance. Her mother had done up her hair in a Dutch braid and bun, which happened to be Briallen's least favorite hair-style, not only because of the pain involved in braiding and pinning but because she thought it looked funny on her and made her look like a child. The only thing she liked about her appearance was her dress. Her mom had bought it for her during a trip to the outlet mall across the river in Williamsburg. It was had a white and yellow plaid pattern and there were sunflower buttons where the shoulder straps met the dress. She thought it was very pretty and very feminine and she frequently wore it to church on Sundays.

"Briallen?" called Meda from the kitchen. Briallen, wanting to impress her grandfather, finished making sure she still looked nice and then went to see what her mother wanted. Meda was in front of the oven, checking on the meatloaf she was making for their dinner.

"Yeah, mom?" asked Briallen as she sat on one of the stools at the island counter separating the kitchen from the dining room.

"Did you finish the pie?"

"I already put it in the fridge. Mama, are you angry at Grandpa?"

Meda stood up, closed the oven and wiped her forehead with the washcloth that had been draped over her shoulder. "I'm not happy with him. He played a mean joke on us Briallen - not on just your Daddy and me, but on you too."

"I don't think it's a joke! Why would he go through all that trouble? That's a lot of time and planning and money to put into to a joke that's not even funny."

Meda couldn't help but feel that her daughter was right. She'd known Cal Bevin for over twenty years and never once had he done anything like this. She had just as hard of a time in believing that Cal would be so mean to them as she did in believing that the whole thing really wasn't a joke and magic is real.

Just as Meda was about to explain her confusion to Briallen though, the sound of tires on the gravel road could be heard. Calhoun Bevin was finally here. Both Meda and Briallen were completely silent as they listened, as if they were expecting something weird and magical to happen. The engine was switched off. A door opened and then closed. Will Bevin loudly greeted his father and the greeting was returned even louder. Then there came the sound of a muffled argument. Specifics couldn't be heard but both Meda and Briallen could make out Will's high pitched anger and Cal's low and soothing explanations. Just as quickly as the argument had begun though, it ended, and there were footsteps on the porch stairs, and then the screech of the screen door echoed through the house.

"In here!" shouted Meda, more out of habit than the desire for Cal and Will to join her in the kitchen.

Briallen jumped off the stool and straightened her dress as she looked towards the dining room entrance in anticipation. As soon as she saw her grandfather she ran up to him and wrapped her arms around him in a big hug.

Calhoun Bevin (Dean Bevin or Professor Bevin to his students) was a well-dressed man in his mid-seventies with short, thick white hair and a mustache to match, and dark brown eyes that almost always looked as if he were smiling. Though he very much appeared to be an ivy-league university professor (with an English accent that only enforced this image), and was the Dean of a private school, those that familiar with him know that he was once a farm boy from northern England that worked his way from penniless to a well-earned fortune. And so he never came off as arrogant or all-knowing and never projected an air of superiority. It was his down-to-earth nature that made him so well-liked by so many people.

"It's not a joke, right? It's real?" pleaded Briallen, who had momentarily stopped breathing as she waited for an answer she felt she already knew.

Cal smiled at his granddaughter. "Very real. Come into the living room with me for a moment... I have a gift for you. You can open it while your parents finish preparing dinner." He nodded a hello towards Meda and then led Briallen into the living room where they could be alone. "Your parents aren't too happy with me."

"They think you're playing a mean joke on us," said Briallen breathlessly as she and Cal sat on the couch where she had first learned she was a witch. "And that none of it's real."

"But you believe me."

"I do. Sometimes, when I go riding with Miko, we'll stop by a holler pond and I'll pick up a stick and pretend I'm a witch, like Wendy - you know, Casper's friend. And I'll pretend Miko is a bad guy I've turned into a horse. Or he'll be a magical creature, like a centaur or a giant."

"And you'll cast spells with your wand and pretend the pond is your cauldron?"

"Yes! I do and sometimes... well, I told Dad all of this. And about how sometimes weird things happen and I... I think I always knew but I used to tell myself I was just seeing things, until I got your letter."

Cal nodded and then pulled a long, thin silver box out of his suit-jacket pocket. Briallen was so thrilled she didn't stop to realize that there was no way such a large box could fit in such a small pocket. "Well, you weren't, dear. This is for you. It should work better than a random twig."

Briallen took the box and held it as if it were the most precious thing in the entire world. In shiny, black cursive along the top was an inscription that read: To the youngest Bevin witch. She ran her thumb along the inscription and she gasped when she saw it begin to fade away, until there was nothing. Briallen glanced at her grandfather; Cal just smiled and motioned for her to open the box.

She removed the lid slowly and peeked inside. On top of a cushion of silver cloth was what looked to Briallen like a long, ochre stick. It had a faint spiral pattern on its shaft stemming from the mouth of a Celtic-style wolf that wrapped around the handle. In the wolf's eye was a very small, green opal - Briallen's birthstone.

"It's beautiful," said Briallen. She wanted to hold it but was afraid she might break it somehow. She had never seen anything so wonderful before.

"This is your wand. I made it for you myself: It's nine and a quarter inches long, and made of ash. Go on and hold it. It'll be yours for the rest of your life. That is, so long as you take good care of it."

Briallen smiled as she reached inside the thin box and took hold of the wand by the handle with only her thumb and index finger. When she had it out of the box, she wrapped her whole hand around it and suddenly felt as if she were at the beach on a very bright day, basking in the warmth of the sun. She could even feel the vibration of the waves rolling up the beach and down to her very core. Then she realized that the tip of the wand was glowing, very strongly, like a flashlight. All of a sudden the light went out, but the feeling did not go away.

"Excellent! A perfect fit. There's more inside the box," said Cal, happily. "Look."

Briallen, still holding the wand, looked down into the box on her lap. Using her free hand, she lifted the silver cloth but saw nothing. As she put the cloth back into place, her fingers suddenly felt something cold and metallic. She lifted the cloth again and looked down to see a silver clasp of the type frequently found on jewelry. After carefully placing the wand in her lap, she completely removed the cloth from the box and saw a silver necklace with a green opal, like the wolf's eyes, attached to the end. It was just as beautiful as the wand.

Cal took the necklace from the box and, after unclasping it, brought it around Briallen's neck and re-clasped it. Briallen brought her hand to the opal and smiled again. "It's so pretty, grandpa!"

"And it will bring you good luck. Opal is your birthstone, but it is also a precious stone with many magical qualities."

"What can it do?"

"Lore says that opal has the power of invisibility - though that has not yet been proven. However, it does magnify inner beauty. We use it in love potions and potions to increase self-esteem, tranquility, or goodwill, or in lotions that make the user more attractive. It's a stone of peace and self-acceptance."

"All things I need," said Briallen with a laugh.

"Dinner's ready," said Meda just then, poking her head into the living room.

"And I'm so hungry I could eat a dragon just about now!" joked Cal as he stood.

Briallen put her silver wand box on the coffee table but kept her wand in her hand and followed her grandfather into the kitchen. "A dragon? Are they real?"

"As real as you and I! There's just so much to tell you! I only wish I'd known of your magical abilities earlier, and then you could have grown up knowing our world."

"Your world," corrected Will Bevin, loudly, from his seat at the head of the table. Cal and Meda sat on either side of Will, and Briallen sat next Cal. "I'm not a part of it. Meda is not a part of it. And we haven't decided yet if Briallen will be a part of it."

Cal leaned back in his chair as he put his napkin across his lap. "So you've accepted that I'm telling the truth?"

"We believe that you believe it," mumbled Meda, not looking up. "Put your napkin in your lap, sweetie." Briallen did as she was told, but put her wand carefully next to her dinner plate first. Meda stared at the wand. "What is that?"

"That, Meda, is a wand. I made it for Briallen. It's the most important tool a witch or wizard will ever use or need."

"That's a wand? I'd always thought of wands as being more... ornate, I suppose." Will guffawed and then tried to disguise his laugh as a cough, as he brought his napkin to his mouth.

"Well, some are more ornate than Briallen's. And some are much more plain. It's not really the physical aesthetic of a wand that matters, anyway. What really matters is the wood it is made from and what its core consists of. You can tell a lot about a witch or wizard based on their wand."

"What do you mean core?" asked Meda. She almost couldn't believe she was even having this conversation.

"The core of a wand, that is, what is placed inside the hollow center, can be almost anything. Mostly wand cores hold a part of a magical creature such as a strand of unicorn hair or a phoenix feather. Dragon heartstring is quite common as well - that's what I have. Depending on the core and the type of wood used and how it was made, a wand can help the wizard who owns it to perform certain types of magic better than others, but it mostly just helps to enhance and focus what natural talent is already there... sort of like a magnifying glass. Wands are complicated tools to explain; Mr King, a very qualified American wand-maker, could give you a better explanation. We can visit him when we go to get your school supplies."

"And what's in my wand's core?" asked Briallen, excited.

"Well, your wand core is very unique. Like I said before, dragon heartstring is very common, as is unicorn hair and phoenix feathers - it's fairly uncommon to come across a wand whose core is none of those. However, Bevin witches have had the same sort of wand core for centuries: ashwinder ash. That is what I put inside yours. Bevin witches are the only ones known to always use ashwinder ash as a wand core, and they're the only ones who can normally control it, just as only the Irish can control a core of leprechaun hair.

"There is no wand in all the world like yours, Briallen. No two wands are alike, just as no one hair on your head is exactly the same as any other hair, and this wand will be yours for as long as you can keep care of it. Do not lose it, try not to break it, and be sure to take excellent care of it. We will buy a wand-care kit on our shopping trip."

"Ah, and now we get to the really interesting part," said Will Bevin sarcastically. "I read over that list of school supplies many times. Just where exactly do you plan on finding dragon-hide gloves? I'm not sure you could find them in a Williamsburg outlet mall."

"You're quite right, Will. That's why I'll be taking Briallen to Habory Lane in Boston, the largest shopping center for magical supplies in all of the United States, and to Diagon Alley in London - that is where I used to go shopping for school supplies when I was a student at Hogwarts in Britain. I'd love for my granddaughter to get to shop there at least once during her school years."

Meda choked on a piece of potato she had just put in her mouth. After a brief struggle, she managed to swallow it. "Excuse me? It's almost a ten hour drive to Boston, and you can't really be thinking of flying to London just for the day."

"Of course not! Briallen hasn't taken flying lessons yet! We'll go by Floo."

"I haven't - wait, so when it says first year students aren't allowed to have brooms, that means... we really fly on brooms?" asked Briallen. She had hardly touched her dinner. She was too excited. For the first time in all her life, Briallen wished school was already starting.

Meda put her hand to her head, as if she were feeling sick. "This is too much. I just can't keep - why should we believe you? How do we know you're not..."

"Senile? Crazy? Suffering the debilitating effects of old age?" asked Cal, smiling serenely. Everybody at the table just stared at him. After a few seconds, he pulled a russet-colored wand out of his inner jacket pocket. He pointed his wand at the pot holding the meatloaf, carrots and potatoes and whispered something unintelligibly. The pot began to rise into the air and moved to the opposite end of the table and back, before carefully landing back in its original place.

Briallen began to clap. She didn't know what else to do because, frankly, she was just as shocked by the display of magic as her parents were. The last time she saw a magic act (a quarter pulled from behind her ear), she had been expected to clap, and so now she clapped. She stopped suddenly, remembering she had a wand as well. She picked it up, pointed it at the salt shaker and repeated what she thought she heard her grandfather say, before anyone could stop her.

Instead of sending the salt shaker flying into the air, the lid popped off and shot the salt at the sliding door behind her mother, who managed to duck before any salt hit her. The contact of the salt against the glass sliding door was so severe, it left a large crack running from the top to the bottom.

Briallen gawked at the door and muttered, "It, um, didn't work."

"No, it wouldn't have because you haven't learnt that spell yet," said Cal with a chuckle. This time he didn't speak as he waved his wand at the sliding doors. The crack Briallen had made disappeared and the glass looked as good as new.

Casually, Cal began speaking again. "Did you know, Meda, that Native Americans were the earliest practitioners of magic in North America? When the first wizards came over here in the early sixteenth century, they were surprised to find such highly advanced forms of elemental and transfigural magic, and to see so many animagi and metamorphmagi in this country. Some of your ancestors, Meda, were likely witches and wizards. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that you have some magical genes... recessive, of course, but it helps to understand why Briallen is a witch, since Will is not a wizard."

Will frowned at hearing that statement, but it was not a frown of disappoint or anger, but of thought. "Why aren't I a wizard, then?"

For the first time that evening, Cal did not smile. "Sometimes a child born to a magical parent doesn't inherit magical ability."

"You say 'parent,' so that means that, what? Mum wasn't a witch?"

Cal shook his head. "She was a Muggle - a non-magical person. The most beautiful woman I have ever seen, really. It was love at first sight and even though my parents didn't approve, we married. My brothers married proper witches like my parents wanted. My mother and father thought that if I married a Muggle, I'd have Squib children, and I guess they were right. But none of that ever mattered to Naomi and me. We only wanted a family, and magic didn't matter." Cal placed a hand on Will's arm and offered a smile.

"How can I not know about any of this?" asked Will. He sounded angry, confused and sad all at once. Meda and Briallen had stopped eating by then and were just watching Will and Cal.

"You did, when you were younger. Before Naomi passed away."

"What? And so I just happened to forget that you're a wizard and you practice magic?"

"No, no, nobody could simply forget something like that. You were still a young boy when we wiped your memory of the truth."

"You erased my memory? Why would you do something like that? Did you ever stop to think that if I knew the truth about you, about my family, that we would've had a better relationship?"

"William, it was a decision Naomi and I made together and I still think that, at that moment in time, it was for the best. You were of school age then and you had still not performed any magic. We knew you were a Squib but we couldn't send you to a Muggle school knowing about magic. Children can't keep secrets."

"So you brain-washed me so that you could send me to a normal school. That's so much better." Will Bevin's eyes were shiny, but he wasn't crying and somehow, his voice wasn't shaking.

"No, Will, we erased your memories of magic to keep you safe. At that time there was a very dark wizard... there was a war, within the magical community, between those witches and wizards who believed that magic should not be kept hidden from Muggles and those that believed it should. The ones who believed we shouldn't hide our true nature grew violent and angry. They not only believed that we should not hide magic but that we should be allowed to use it openly, and with hostility, towards Muggles. Those witches and wizards who did not side with them often experienced... well, bad things happened. Then your mum died and we moved to the states, where the leader of those dark witches and wizards had yet to spread his hate.

"Then suddenly, ten years ago, their leader disappeared. Some say he died but there are those of us who believe otherwise... anyway, that is why I erased your memory. By the time the dark wizards' leader had vanished, you were married to Meda and had just had Briallen. You, as a Squib, were unable to practice any magic and I could not sense any magical ability in Briallen, so I figured it would be best, and easiest, to just keep everything a secret."

Meda was the first to speak after Cal Bevin finished his story. "I have one, very important, question: if Briallen attends one of these schools, will she be safe?"

"Yes, very much so. While accidents do happen at times, nothing serious ever occurs, at least not anymore. No underage witch or wizard has died while at school in this country for over two hundred years. She will be perfectly safe, no matter which school she decides to attend."

"Oh, well, then," said Meda, looking to Will for an answer. She wasn't sure whether Cal's reply was the one she was looking for. While safe certainly meant not dead, Meda also meant that she wanted to make sure Briallen would never be in any danger at all, especially after hearing Cal's story.

"What happens if we don't let Briallen go to a magic school?" asked Will, calmer, though no less upset.

"The strength of her magic will continue to grow, but without the proper tutoring, it will go wild to the point where she can no longer control it at all and sooner or later, somebody will get hurt."

"That sounds serious mom and dad, I definitely think you should let me go," said Briallen in all seriousness.

Meda nodded and took Will's hand in hers. "Then I suppose Briallen will be going to a magic school. Who did we get invitations from again?"

"Glen Haven, Rosewood, Lambency Beacon, Lawhorn, Legerdemain, Drachewald, and Bergamot," said Briallen with no hesitation. She had read each invitation so many times she could recite each one by memory if asked to do so.

"What do you think, Cal?" asked Meda. Will was staring at his plate, trying to fathom everything that had happened, while Meda was doing her best to be supportive of Briallen, and accepting of Cal's world. She knew discrimination and prejudice and she didn't want to be like one of those people who had an unreasonable distrust of her and her culture, so she bit her tongue and remained level-headed.

"That's every school of magic in the United States, except for one which is only for wizards - I'm impressed they all contacted you. Many are quite small, of course. Glen Haven, Rosewood and Drachewald generally have less than one hundred students at any given time so your classes there would be very small - no more than ten or twenty children in your year. Legerdemain is the largest school on the west coast, and the second largest in the nation, next to Bergamot. Lambency Beacon is up north somewhere, and is run by a lovely Canadian witch, Reva Watkins. Lawhorn is out in the desert, in Texas and is the only one I'm not very familiar with, but I have a few members of my staff who went there and liked it very much."

"And Bergamot?" asked Briallen.

Cal smiled. "Well, I'm in charge of Bergamot. It's the oldest American school of magic, and the largest. We have about one thousand students, from all over North America, though we are predominately American. The school includes nearly five acres of land and is just outside a local wizarding village, aptly called The Village, having been the first all wizarding township established in the United States."

"What about college? What about a career? What will Briallen do with her life once she's done with magic school?" asked Will acridly.

"There is no university in our world, though some careers required extra training - which is provided by the employer, usually at no extra charge. And there are many occupations available. This will all be taken care of, I promise you. During a student's fifth year, we conduct aptitude interviews to guide them towards their most suitable career."

"I've already decided I want to work with dragons," mentioned Briallen quickly. "And I want to go to Bergamot."

"Let's not be hasty... I approve of Bergamot. I prefer it, actually, it's nearest and we know who is in charge. You can look after Briallen," suggested Meda.

Will Bevin rolled his eyes and stood abruptly. "I'm going out for a smoke," he said as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket and walked away to the front door.

"I wasn't aware he was smoking again," said Cal.

"Well, he stopped when you did but after all of this..." whispered Meda. "You have to understand how - how fantastical all of this is to us. Will is under a lot of stress right now, not just with all of... of this but with our normal lives. We live in the real world and... I mean, what will we tell the neighbors? My family? Briallen's school friends? Her school, even? I understand that it's best for her to go to Bergamot but what about the money we've paid for her school here? Registration, activity, health, and lunch fees, not to mention new clothes and all of her supplies for the sixth grade.

"We're not rich, Cal. And this isn't me asking for a hand-out. You know we don't want your money. It's just that we've always been able to - this is going to put a strain on us, Calhoun."

"I understand. Our schools start later than yours and I knew there would be very little time in which to settle everything. I really should have let you know months ago but I was caught up in - in personal affairs and it quite slipped my mind, I'm ashamed to say. However, I was always planning on purchasing all of the necessary school items myself, as a gift to Briallen in her very first year of magical schooling. Really, you have no idea how proud I am of you, Briallen."

Briallen smiled and looked eagerly at her mother who seemed to be struggling with something internally. "Cal, you don't need to buy all of this for her. We can take care of it... I just wanted you to really appreciate how difficult this is for us. I don't want you and Will to be any more distant than you already are."

"He'll come around, Meda, trust me. He's a smart lad and he knows this is what needs to be done, and that it's all in Briallen's best interest. And, really, I must insist that you allow me to buy Briallen her school supplies - I've really been looking forward to it."

"Please, Mom!" begged Briallen. "It's a start-of-the-school-year gift! And this trip will be like - like, a bonding thing for me and Grandpa! Maybe I can meet some of Dad's side of the family when we go to London? Can we Grandpa? Please?"

"I think that'd be a good idea," said Cal with a chuckle. "I have three brothers, you know, all with children who have children. I believe my niece Matilda has a son starting Hogwarts this year... Arpad. I'll send an owl right away to see if they would like to meet us in Diagon Alley."

Briallen nodded her agreement, barely containing her excitement.