Of Potions and Pastries - Chapter 1
Luc sat quietly, waiting. Before him were four different cauldrons, all bubbling with a brew of a different color. The far most left liquid was a putrid greenish yellow, on its right a violent red brick sludge, then came a purple and blue swirling mixture, and the last was an uninspiring orange.
Luc sniffed the air over each in turn, nodding. Soon, he thought, Very soon. He sat back down on the stool he kept nearby. He picked up a big book which was perched on a pile of firewood and returned to reading.
This book happened to be his favorite. A completely innocent cook book that he had inherited from his grandmother. The book was a joy to read, filled with recipes for everything from pot roasts to lamb chops, from roasted quail to the finest duck soup. But the section of the book that always occupied Luc's time was the desserts. He quickly thumbed through finding his favorites to re-read. The sugar cream pie, peanut oil and chocolate fudge, even the simplest sugar cookie recipe mesmerized him.
He was still flipping when he felt it. They were ready and he knew it with every fiber in his body. Setting the book down with care, he turned to the cauldrons. Using a large mitten, he carefully lifted each off of their fires in turn. He opened the leather brown satchel that lay against his hip and pulled out four flasks. He filled each in turn with a large funnel, making sure to be diligent to clean the funnel between potions. He, above most, had a great respect for the power that a potion contained and to be sloppy and mix two could be disastrous. He labeled them in a most peculiar way. To use tape and marker was dangerous as they could come off without warning, so Luc used his personal stoppers, color coded pieces of cork, designed to inform him of the contents with just a glance and to keep any who might be looking off guard.
Placing the flasks back into his bag along with the twenty-three others, he let go a sigh of relief. He was as prepared as he could be for his Senior finals the following day. He set to work cleaning his cauldrons of the remains of the potions and neutralizing any leftovers. He put out the fires and then took the cauldrons back into the nearby shed. Organizing them with the rest by size, he locked the door behind him. This shed was Luc's favorite place, a gift from his grandfather. It stored his wood, his cauldrons, and most importantly his large supply of potion materials. Eyes, livers, tounges, spleens, and essences of all kinds, you name it and it was there in varying amounts. It was a stockpile that most any potion lover would turn green with envy over. But aside form Luc's love of potion making, it was a necessity for him. For you see Luc was unable to cast practical spells, or use incantations, or flick his wand. It all was naught for him.
It had been a horrid day, the day the wand maker visited. He had come of age and displayed magical ability, but he drove the wand maker into early retirement, for no wand would bond with Luc. After seeing a specialist in Boston, Luc and his parents learned he had a rare curse. He had the ability to brew potions and could wield magical ingredients, but he would never do wand work. This put him at a great disadvantage at school. His parents were forced to hire a special tutor to instruct Luc while the other students learned to fly brooms and those things which Wizards and Witches often learn at school.
But Luc had excelled, beyond most potions teachers, at the art of potion brewing. He could brew any potion from any book, no matter how old or difficult. He often brewed his own concoctions to suit any occasion. If the kids at school could fly brooms, then Luc would imbue a broom with a potion of flight. Sure it wasn't permanent, but it got the job done.
And so Luc returned to his normal classes, accompanied by a host of flasks and potion containers. While only marginally slower than the other children, he could emulate, with his potions, any magical ability that the other students learned. It simply required a dedicated mind and some outside the box thinking. And it was these qualities that would serve him well on the morrow, during his finals. So much was riding on the outcome of these tests, that he had many more potions than would most likely be required for him to accomplish the tasks. However, he would be the last to show up unprepared.
Repositioning his satchel, Luc headed for the house. a goodnights sleep would be his ally in the morning. Entering the backdoor, Luc quietly moved through the Kitchen, into the hallway. Stepping into the Den, he found his parents busy with this and that. Mother was reading the Gossip page of Gelenda The Loud out of the Salem Herald, all while a pair of kntting needles worked furiously on a pair of baby booties. Thats right, thought Luc, Cousin Avanin had her baby last week. When it came to potions, Luc seemed to forget the rest of the world existed.
"All ready for tomorrow, son?" His father called from his easy chair. He was smoking his pipe and crafting animals from the puffs of smoke that issued forth. "Not nervous are you?"
"No dad, not nervous. Just well prepared," Luc replied patting the satchel lightly. "I finished up the last couple not twenty minutes ago. I'm covered if the want a reanimation spell now."
"I highly doubt they'll want that. It's too dangerous for kids your age. And besides reanimated anything are terribly hard to control, much less command. Not worth learning the spell, I say," His mother piped up from behind her paper. "Did you remember to clean up the shed, too dear?"
"Yes ma'am. Just as I always do."
Luc could tell his parents were nervous, perhaps more nervous than he was. They knew he would be ready for anything, and the voicing of such concerns laid bare their concern. It was still an unknown as to whether or not Luc would be allowed to use his potions. His was a case that had never been heard of before, and thusly the grading comittee was still undecided. They had, however allowed him to take the exams and would make their decision afterward. Luc was convinced he would amaze them, and he would graduate with no issues. Obviously his parents, were not.
"Well, I'm off to bed. Goodnight sleep and all that. See you in the morning."
"Goodnight dear," his mother said, leaning out from behind her paper to kiss Luc on the cheek. He grudgingly accepted the kiss, but instantly wiped it from his cheek.
"Good luck my boy," chimed in his father, nodding at him. "I know you'll do great. Just show them how tough you are and I'm sure it'll all work out.
"Yep, will do Dad." Luc turned from the den and headed though the hallway and up the stairs. Turning left at the top of the steps, he entered his room and shut the door behind him. Arranging his potion satchel on the inn table by his dresser he stepped though the small archway to his small bathroom. He added a little more shining potion to his toothpaste than normal, hoping to dazzle the judges with his smile, if nothing else. He returned to his room and closed the curtains. He blew out the candles in his room and lay down on his bed, the last rays of the day disappearing from the spaces between the curtain and the window frame.
He turned to his alarm clock, an invention of his own, a pair of test tubes set into a scale like contraption. He dropped the small marble into the left tube. The reaction that began would cause the potion to evaporatefrom the left side, lowering the right side until it rung against an old counter bell. There was a full eight hours of potion to evaporate and he set the coiled brass tubing over the openings of the tubes. As it evaporated it would collect in the tubing, condense and drip into the opposite tube. He had won a prize in the invention fair during his ninth grade year at Academy for it.
He had impressed the judges then, and he knew he would impress them tomorrow. With that, he fell asleep.
