Part 2 of The Witching Hour

Visit revenge on this my foe

Mire his days with hurt and woe.

Rest shall he crave and forgiveness seek

For merriment gained by offending the weak.

Additional objects placed around the central pile will adjudicate the nature of the revenge. Recommendations include animal hairs, to aid transfiguration, dolls or toys representing infirmities, diseases or death. The lexicon in the Appendix includes additional words which can be intoned after the main incantation. These can also have an adjudicating effect.\'

Totally fucking fantastic. It was a manual of witchcraft. He wanted to try at least a hundred of the spells immediately. But, all of them seemed to begin \'take your wand and.\'

\'Where do I get a wand?\' he said, almost aloud. The index was comprehensive and included \'wands - creating, p.1424-6\'. Will thumbed to the page and read the instructions. He would need blood and water, and either stone or wood. Hmmm.

He spent the rest of the afternoon daydreaming about the remarkable feats of revenge he would soon carry out. Anything was possible now! Time travel, metamorphosis, invisibility, everything! He just needed his wand, and he could get started.

Will ran home faster than ever before. Even the more committed bullies didn\'t have time to poke fun as he dashed past. Ten minutes later, he was in the bathroom of the deserted house, book open on the counter-top and kitchen knife ready to open the wound in his palm. One little prick in his finger and he would have the blood. The water was in the basin, ready to receive it. He glanced once more at the incantation, sure he had it memorised. Into the water he had placed a wooden foot-long ruler. He winced as the knife opened his flesh. Blood dripped down into the basin in fat, circular, red droplets. He spoke quietly:

\'Let the profane become sacred,

Let the inanimate rise.

Wood shall become wand, and

Blood of mine shed be my bond.\'

Obviously a translation, he thought for the hundredth time. His hand was really bleeding now. Nothing seemed to be happening. His mind turned from the completed incantation to the sharp pain in his palm where the knife had opened half an inch of skin. He\'d need a plaster. And, while we\'re at it, what the fuck are you doing? Cutting yourself and trying to make a magic wand out of a ruler? Are you completely cracked?

He stared at himself in the mirror for a moment and said simply, \'dickhead\'. Opening the cabinet door to grab a plaster, he glanced at the basin. The ruler had gone. In fact, the basin was empty.

Instead, sitting on the counter-top was a eight inch long wooden wand. It was light brown, like the ruler. Its surface was smooth, like it had been polished, and quite cold. He picked it up. It was light. He suddenly felt wonderful.

Giggling like a maniac, Will swished the wand to and fro. Let\'s try something! He re-read the last paragraph of the wand creation spell, which said:

\'Immediately upon creating your wand, you might wish to heal the injury which provided the blood. See p.2778 for simple healing spells. You might also like to customise your wand. The following words will be of assistance.\' There was a neat table of the possible colours, words to change the size, or vegetable transfigurations to hide the wand\'s existence. who would ever suspect a magic carrot?

Will thought he would look fucking stupid waving an aubergine around while he casted spells, so he opted for a simple black marble effect. Speaking the words while his hand hovered lightly over the wand, he gasped as a small plume of purple smoke enshrouded his hands before parting and evaporating to reveal a ten-inch, black marble wand, tapered beautifully and light in the hand. \'That\', Will said to his reflection, \'will do nicely\'.

Time for that healing spell. His parents would be home soon, and he might have to explain the injury. Page 2778 was packed with healing incantations, most of them very short. Some were intended for specific injuries such as minor burns. Some reversed the effects of particular weapons - there was an Arrowhead Injury Charm which seemed self-explanatory. And there were five which provided for \'General Injuries\'. That sounded right.

Will touched the wand to the still-bleeding cut and said \'Lintusula\'. It sealed shut like a flower closing in fast-motion. He felt the place in his palm. There was no scar, no pain. It was as if it had never happened. \'Fuck me\' he breathed.

The sound of a car reversing up the gravel outside broke his reverie - time to hide the book. He looked around quickly and decided on the lower draw of his cabinet, under some winter clothes. A more permanent spot might be better. A safe, even. He could probably conjure one up if he wanted. Buzzing with excitement, he dashed downstairs to greet his mother, who was laboriously carrying groceries into the kitchen. \'I\'ll help, mom\' he called, and grabbed some bags from the car. Doing her best to mute her astonishment, his mother watched while Will industriously unpacked the shopping, put things in their proper place, and then (miracle of miracles) unloaded the dishwasher of last night\'s things and stacked them away in the cupboards. His mother couldn\'t handle it any more.

\'OK, Will, what\'s going on?\'

He gave her a bright, non-committal \'hmph?\' from inside the bottom cupboard where he was stacking some more things away.

She smiled awkwardly, trying to find the right words. \'You\'re being really helpful tonight, Will and. well, its been quite a while since I had any help from you around the house. I was beginning to wonder if you had forgotten your responsibilities here\'.

Will stopped, turned and produced a facial expression laced with apology. \'I know, mom, and I\'m sorry. I\'ve been selfish. Let me make it up to you. How about I cook us some dinner?\'

His mother just stood there for a second, and them remembered herself and said \'That would be great! What\'s on the menu?\'

Will simply smiled and tapped the side of his nose. \'It\'ll be magic. You\'ll see\'.



Never before in his eighteen years had Will arrived at college with a real spring in his step. And that wasn\'t just because he jerked off in the shower before school while thinking about his German porn. He felt powerful, liberated and independent. Some amazing, benevolent force had allowed that book into his life, and it was because he was supposed to do better. He wasn\'t meant to be bullied for the rest of his life. He was meant to do something remarkable. His heart beamed at the thought.

A couple of minutes with the book last night had produced the best dinner his parents had ever eaten. His favourite was a brilliant spell which combined given ingredients into possible combinations and produced recipes. Will gathered some fridge items, quietly spoke the word, and immediately a small square of parchment appeared on the counter-top, inscribed with a simple-looking recipe for bacon and mushroom pie. It hadn\'t taken long, what with boiling water instantly - \'Calabalus!\' - and washing all his utensils - \'Hygenicatis!\' - with magic. His parents, relaxing in front of the TV in the living room for a change, were happy to let him cook, if a little bemused. But dinner had knocked their socks off. Will was on a high.

Once more, he couldn\'t wait for morning break to check out the book. What new abilities would it grant him this time? He couldn\'t even imagine the possibilities. He might even get laid with magic - now, that would be a real trick to pull off. Maybe Bonny Harrison would sleep with him. He often fantasised about her, the prettiest girl in the class. She was supposed to be dating one of the football clowns, but who knew? And could anyone resist the powers of magic? He chuckled to himself, imagining the scene. It was always a major turn-on to imagine fucking a girl who was, in reality, only a few feet away. Those firm, pert breasts. Her tight little ass, sticking up in the air as she begged him to ass-fuck her. Her cute, red mouth wrapped around his cock. Ah, heaven.

So passed the first lessons, and then the quick dash to the bathroom. A random page:

\'Invisibility charms are easy to cast and long to endure, but require practice. The complete disappearance of the person or object can only be guaranteed to experienced practitioners. Incomplete vanishing can often be troublesome, so assiduous application is recommended.\'

Three pages of charms to make yourself, other people, and objects simply disappear. Now, this might be useful. Let\'s try one. He placed the rod over the toilet roll and muttered, \'Invisitas\'. Nothing happened. Once more, under his breath. Will could have sworn the paper changed colour, or became a bit more transparent. He tried again, quietly as not to arouse suspicion. Talking to yourself on the toilet was still frowned on, he guessed. \'Invisitas!\' The paper was definitely changing, becoming waxier and translucent.

One more try, and it hardly seemed there at all, but Will could still unroll it and pull sheets off. \'Cool!\' To reverse the process he said, \'Revalati\', and the toilet roll was back, just as it had ever been. \'Outstanding!\'

There were only a few minutes left. He really should find out something he could try today. If he could make himself invisible, he could walk anywhere in the school. Steal exam papers. Check out the girls\' locker rooms and showers. The possibilities were staggering. But, try as he might, he could only get his left hand to partially disappear with the \'Invisitas\' charm, and stronger ones required either more than one witch, a potion, or lengthy incantations which would take ages. Damn. Still, certainly worth further investigation. Time to get back to class.

While closing the book, however, his eyes fell on a beautifully illuminated page entitled \'Disorders of the Eye\'. Will read with interest. He had worn glasses since fourth grade, really quite thick ones which did nothing for his appearance. The spell jumped out of the page at him, a four-line incantation with a special wand-flick to go with it. He cleared his throat and whispered the words:

\'Darkness and Light shall both be clear,

Objects be bright, both distant and near,

Eyes of the hunting bird grant unto me,

Clear and untrammelled my vision shall be.\'

There was a sharp pain in his eyes, like they were being squeezed and stretched alternately, changing shape, being pulled out of his face. but it was brief. Glancing back at the page to see for any notes on side-effects, Will found he couldn\'t read a thing. \'Great,\' he thought, \'the first thing I try on myself, and it turns me blind\'. He leant forward to read the blurred, distant parchment and his glasses slid down his nose and the world slid into focus. It was perfect.

A jolt of happiness coursed through him. He need never wear glasses again! He looked around him, delighting in the newfound clarity. This is what the world truly looks like! He could read the book from four feet away, the title page from six. Notices on the walls, graffiti, rent-boy phone numbers, all were now clear! Will could not restrain himself from briefly dancing the Funky Chicken in the cubicle, and then dashed back to class just in time.



Frank felt like purring as his wife licked his balls. \'Second time this week, honey. Did you take Viagra or something?\' Frank was used to the icy sarcasm of his wife, and loved her all the more for it. If you can\'t laugh about yourself, he thought, what was the point?

True, the little pills had changed their sex lives out of all recognition. Frank didn\'t like the term \erectile dysfunction\. He preferred to think that his poor old manhood was simply tired from a lifetime of exertion in the provision of high-quality sex for his wife. In actual fact, he was flagging and it was time to face it. Fifty-three and on the way out, he sometimes felt. These days, if you\'re not in your mid-twenties, your an old fart good only for the scrap heap.

Fuck that, they agreed.

So Cheri sucked her husband\'s balls, licked his ample length and inwardly blessed the little pills which had given them both something to live for in the bedroom department. His desires were real and regular, and for the last few months they\'d fucked three or four times a week. Before, they were lucky if he managed twice a month, and it was often short.

Cheri climbed onto the familiar contours of her husband\'s hips and slid his cock inside her. With such strong erections, there was time to find her g-spot and pressure it until she moaned in orgasm. Frank loved to feel his wife come, almost as much as bathing her womb with his own juices. They rocked together lovingly, Frank\'s balls smeared with his wife\'s pussy cream. Two lovers who knew each other so well, who could communicate with a single glance or a tiny touch of the fingertips. She pleased him like no-one ever had, or could. When he came into his wife\'s body, they held each other like it was their first time.

The only time Frank resented giving up smoking was right after sex. \'God a cigarette would be good right now\', he\'d say, and the response from his wife was always \'Sure, honey. Just find someone else to suck your cock. I don\'t want you tasting like an ashtray.\' She was persuasive.

\'Do you think Will\'s OK?\' she wondered as she pulled on panties and a t-shirt.

Frank thought about it. \'He\'s certainly acting a bit strange, like he\'s trying to impress us or something. The last couple of days. Well, its certainly more of a pleasure having him around the house. I think I\'ve had more conversation with him this week than the rest of the year.\'

Cheri nodded, sitting beside her husband on the bed. \'Something\'s come over him. Something good. We\'ve got to give this a chance, and see what it is. I\'ve been worried about him\', she confessed. \'He spends so much time alone, and never any talk of a girlfriend or. well, a relationship of any kind. And,\' she paused, glancing at her husband, who knew what was coming, \'he\'s been masturbating almost every day. I wish he\'d clean up properly after himself.\'

Frank couldn\'t resist a grin at that one. Every boy of every background had been caught at it, or left evidence unwittingly. Frank certainly had - the \'sock incident\' with his own mother was something he couldn\'t think about without cracking up laughing. Why should Will be different?

\'Well, we need to cut him some slack and see what this new phase brings. Tell you what, that dinner he made was awesome, so if he wants to cook a couple of times a week, wouldn\'t that bring him more into the family, give us something to talk about? I don\'t want a gap developing.\'

Cheri kissed her husband and they snuggled down together. Raising kids was the hardest thing a person can do. She just hoped they had set him on the right path.



Will was having the time of his life exploring the powers of the book. Thrilled by his new eyesight, and having convinced surprised family and classmates that he had badass new contact lenses, he turned to other sections of the book which dealt with bodily problems. He was tall and not badly built, but was no quarterback, and could barely catch or hit a baseball. But there were more pressing concerns.

Will had suffered from acne since the age of 9 and it was the first ailment for which he sought a cure. The potion was quite easy (more of his own blood, he noticed) and the incantation brief. It had necessitated a trip to the Chinese grocery in town after school one day, but he was ready to cast the spell. A digital camera was on standby to take before-and-after shots. This would make the family album.

The following morning, Will bounded downstairs and took his seat at the breakfast table. He looked fantastic. There wasn\'t a zit or a scar on his face. Like a male model.

His mother nearly dropped a pot of steaming coffee on her feet.

\'Will, honey, you\'re clear!\' She was stunned, staring at him. \'David, come in here and look at your son!\' His father walked through from the den carrying the morning paper. Will would have liked his camera on hand for the facial expression.

\'Holy cow, son.\' Will was beaming. \'Did you. take some special medicine or something? Did the Doctor.\'

Will cut him off. \'Yeah, that\'s right. A really new one, from a small company. Just cleared it right up overnight. How about that?\'

Breakfast was spent amidst a commentary consisting of \'wow\' and \'Golly, Will\' from his mother. But it wasn\'t her he was trying to please, it was himself. And maybe Becca. Or Bonny Harrison. Anyway, he felt confident, clean and terrific. Time to work on some other things.

His classmates seemed to be noticing his new appearance. Mostly they were leaving him alone, now that there didn\'t seem so much to make fun of. Plus, he kept his mouth shut more often and didn\'t make any more stupid fucking mistakes like bringing porn to school. He was wiser, sharper, cleverer. And Becca was noticing everything.

She had watched as his personality changed, apparently overnight. Losing the glasses was a good move. And the skin - wow, what a change. She made a note to ask him what he was using. If, that is, they ever actually had a conversation. She could see how interested she was, and he might have come close a couple of times, but he was so shy. And she would feel like an idiot approaching a boy and striking up a conversation. What the hell would she say?

The afternoon lesson was on headwear. They had been doing a module on hats through the ages, and learned all about their development. The final assignment was to design one, and the tutor, one of their better teachers, was encouraging ideas from the group. Later, they would choose one to design for their final project. It was worth 10 of their grade, so even the class idiots were paying attention.

A brainstorm of hat types was followed by discussions of how they fit into the rest of the students\' projects. In the end, they were supposed to design a whole outfit for a fashion show. Will knew what he wanted to do and no tutor was going to dissuade him. The Twentieth Century Witch. It would be brilliant. And Becca would model it for him. In his dreams, of course.

Will got to work on his hat design. He\'d already found some models in the literature - pointed, wide-brimmed, decorated with symbols. He could even include some of the weird language from the book on it somewhere, etched in Gold. It would look awesome.

\'This looks good, Will\' said the tutor as she patrolled the classroom, observing the students\' work. \'Hey, Becca\'s doing something similar. Have you guys seen each others\' work? You might be able to provide some more ideas\'. She was gesturing between them. Becca stared at the floor. Will swallowed and boldly said, \'That\'s a great idea. Can I see what you\'ve got, Becca?\'

She had found a particularly engaging patch of floor and refused to take her eyes off it. Will walked the two steps to her desk and knelt down beside her. \'Hi\', he whispered. \'Sorry if this is weird. Can I see your hat?\' She looked up at him, smiling slightly. This was crazy. And she was loving it.

\'Sure\', she managed. \'The basic shape is the traditional point, but I\'m not sure how much curve to give it. It seems like some of them bend forwards or back, but never really to the side.\' Will was nodding. Becca thought she was talking way fast, but Will was somehow really relaxed.

\'That\'s what I\'ve been seeing. I was going to make it come out straight forward, with quite a severe curve, like this\'. He was sketching on a corner of her pad. She made a change, they discussed it, Will agreed with her. They re-drew the sketch. Will talked about the writing in gold. Becca loved the idea, but decided they couldn\'t both do it. Fifteen minutes flew past. The class was ending.

The buzzer broke their spell, and then the usual scrapes of chairs as students rushed out. Becca looked up and whispered \'thanks, that was cool\'. Will just smiled and made his way out with the others. As she was closing the pad, she noticed the gold script: