First Signs of Magic

First Signs of Magic

"Did you see that?" Richard Granger gasped. He scarcely realized he'd spoken the words aloud until his wife turned from the stove.

She was putting the final touches on their adult meal; little Hermione's plasticWinnie-the-Pooh plate was already on her high chair tray. For a fifteen-month-old, Jane thought, the baby handled self-feeding quite competently,.

"See what, dear?" she asked, glancing around with a little frown.

"Oh - never mind." On second thought, Richard decided not to mention he'd just now imagined he saw green peas flying around the kitchen. Anyway, he didn't see them now.

Flying peas alone wouldn't have been such a shock. Jane would persist in trying to get their daughter to eat peas, even though Hermione rejected them with a determination Richard found both amusing and rather impressive.

"I am not forcing her," Jane insisted. "One day she'll break down and actually try one."

Richard wasn't so sure. No, he wouldn't have been surprised to see Hermione hurl peas off her plate.

The thing was, she hadn't. He'd been keeping his eye on her, and he would have seen. One of Hermione's chubby little fists gripped the spoon that was more-or-less neatly conveying applesauce to her mouth. The other gripped the side of the tray. Just then she looked at her father and grinned, looking quite pleased with herself.

Jane turned to the stove, and at that very moment something soft and squishy hit Richard's cheek. He put his hand up, and it came away with a substance the exact size, color, and consistency of a smashed pea.

Without hesitation, Richard strode over to the high chair, scooped up the remaining peas from his daughter's divided plate, and put them in his pocket. Trying to put them in the rubbish bin staight away might raise awkward questions.

After he managed to dispose of those peas, Richard Granger would try very hard to forget the whole, impossible incident.

*****

The wound on Remus' neck didn't hurt very much any more, but his mum was making him stay in bed anyway. He had only the haziest memory of what had happened that night - a memory of some big furry thing leaping out of the woods and pinning him to the ground, then pain -

His mum and dad had said something about a bite. He still had bad dreams, but in the daytime he felt better, and he was bored, really bored.

Mum wasn't around right now to stop him, so Remus slipped out of bed and went to the cupboard where his picture books were kept. He felt ready now to look at the big one, the one that had been his favorite before . . . the one with pictures of magical creatures in it. They were just pictures in a book, he told himself, even if they did move. Pictures couldn't hurt you.

When Remus opened the cupboard, he got a big surprise. Something large and round and silvery jumped out at him. It startled him for a a second and then, for some reason, he started to laugh.

It was just so ridiculous - a big round silver ball where his books ought to be. He laughed and laughed till he fell down and rolled on the carpet, with tears streaming down his cheeks.

Then he heard a noise and the round thing - he realized now that it looked like the moon - disappeared.

Remus got up and reached into the cupboard for his book. He couldn't believe that for just one second, he'd been scared of the moon-thing. How could anybody be afraid of the moon? That was just plain silly, he thought, wiping the tears from his eyes.

*****

"Oh, Ronnikins, we have something for you!"

Ron Weasley knew exactly what that singsong tone meant and tried to make a run for it, but it was too late. George had him pinned from behind, and Fred was advancing with a menacing grin on his face.

"Here you go, Ronnikins - just for you!" The second Fred put the thing on the floor, it started to scuttle toward Ron on its black, hairy legs.

"Stop it," Ron yelled, wriggling frantically in a futile attempt to break George's grip. "Lemme go!"

Yelling and getting mad might not help him get away from that horrible thing on the floor, but getting mad was better than crying. He was not going to cry this time. He could feel himself start to panic, though, as the creature crept toward him, closer and closer -

Ron shut his eyes, hoping that when he opened them, the spider wouldn't be there.

But it was.

Ron couldn't bear to look, but he was afraid not to. The spider was so close now, just inches from his feet, and he had no hope of breaking free. Desperately, Ron struggled against his brother's restraining arms.

"How would you like it if one of those things came at you!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. He pictured Fred with his mouth open in horror, trying to run away from the spider as it sped toward him -

And then it happened. At the very last second, the spider stopped dead, spun around, and raced with amazing speed toward Fred, who gaped at it in amazement, too surprised to move.

Ron stopped struggling and began to laugh at the expression on his brother's face. It was so good, so utterly satisfying, to see his prankster older brother at a loss for once.

"Blimey!" Fred breathed, and at that very moment, a voice from the doorway demanded, "What in the name of Merlin is going on here?"

Molly Weasley took in the situation at a glance.

"You two!" she spat as she took out her wand and Banished the offending arachnid. "You know how frightened your brother is of spiders!"

In a flash, she had both the twins corralled and was marching them out of the room. At the door, Fred managed to turn around and wink at Ron.

"Not bad, little brother," he said. "Maybe you're not doomed to be a Squib after all."

*****

There had to be a way to get the cabinet door open. Draco pressed his nose to the glass, fascinated by the shelves full of strange objects inside. No matter how many times he tugged at the door, however, it wouldn't budge.

He'd seen his father wave his wand at it after taking some mysterious thing out or putting it back. He'd also listened very carefully and tried to remember the words his father muttered, but when he tried to repeat them, nothing happened.

He didn't have a wand. And even if he'd heard the words exactly right, he was only three and still spoke with a lisp.

There was a knife on one of the shelves with a curved, shining blade and bright-colored jewels on the handle. He liked that, and he also liked the little golden bear that his father took out to show him sometimes when he was in a good mood. The bear could get bigger - a lot bigger - and it could stand on its hind legs and roar just like a real bear.

If he could just get inside the cabinet, he could play with the bear.

Or better yet, he could take out the silver bottle with all the strange marks on it. It had a stopper, so Draco was pretty sure there must be something in that bottle, and he wanted very badly to know what it was.

Draco focused every bit of his energy on the locked cabinet door.

"Open up!" he hissed, not daring to shout lest that pesky house-elf hear and come running. "Open up! I want - "

But before Draco could say what he wanted, the cabinet door swung back without a sound.

Draco was so astonished that for a few seconds, he stood frozen. Then he reached into the cabinet, intending to grab the silver bottle -

Before he could touch it, he felt an electric tingle in his fingers, mild at first, but strengthening as it traveled up his arm, and then -

An enormous shock sent his small body hurtling to the floor, and everything went dark.

Draco opened his eyes slowly to see his parents' pale faces looming over him. He was lying on something soft - his own bed, he soon realized.

"Thank Merlin, you're awake!" his mother breathed. She laid a cool hand on his forehead. "How do you feel, darling?"

"Okay, I guess."

She turned to her husband. "Will he be all right, Lucius?" Her voice sounded quavery.

His father nodded curtly, his pale eyes fixed on Draco's. "If he survived that, he'll be fine. Tell me, son, what happened, exactly?"

Young as he was, Draco Malfoy knew perfectly well that if he lied, his father would know it. Draco was quite sure his father could read his mind.

"I - I - wanted to see the bottle," he croaked. "The silver one - and then the door came open, and - "

"I see," said Lucius. He didn't sound angry. In fact, something in his voice made Draco think his father was trying not to laugh, but something else felt sharp, like that shiny knife. "Do you know what is in that bottle, Draco?"

"No, sir," Draco said, wanting to look away but not daring to. Of course he didn't know what was in the bottle - he hadn't even touched it.

"I purchased it in India, from a very powerful wizard. It is not something to play with, son. Nothing in that cabinet is a toy - do you understand?" Lucius still spoke in his knife-blade voice.

Draco nodded weakly. He was beginning to feel very tired. He wanted to just fall asleep and forget everything.

"You see, Draco, there is a demon inside that bottle. Do you know what a demon is?"

Draco shook his head. "No, sir." His stomach was doing odd flip-flops.

"A demon," Lucius went on, "is a malevolent spirit." His voice seemed to caress the word "malevolent".

"It is a good thing you were unable to touch the bottle. Otherwise -"

He did not finish, and he did not have to. Draco shuddered and scrunched down farther under the covers.

"Of course," Lucius went on, calm as ice on a pond, "the cabinet is well protected. That's what you felt - the protection. Do you see?"

Draco nodded, wishing fervently that his parents would leave him alone to sleep.

And at last they did stand up, but before leaving his son's bedside, Lucius said, so softly Draco had to listen hard to catch the words, "That was a rather nice bit of magic, son. Just be careful what you wish for."