âDragons have treasure too,â he said then, hopefully.
âDragons donât really exist,â James said.
âYes, they do! Iâve seen pictures,â Ben said.
âTheyâre just made up,â James said.
âNo, theyâre not!â
âYes, they are.â
âNo, theyâre not!â
âYes, they are.â
âWhat about St George?â Ben asked. âYou canât have St George without the dragon.â
âThatâs just a story,â James said.
âHow do you know?â Ben asked. âIf dragons donât exist, how come there are so many stories about them, and so many pictures?â
âWell, maybe they existed once,â James admitted. âBut they donât nowadays. Not here anyway.â
There was another long, depressed silence.
âWe need a magic lamp with a genie in it. Or a magic carpet, to take us to the piratesâ treasure. We need something magical,â Ben said. âI wish I was a wizard.â
âMe too,â said Tim.
CHAPTER TWO
When Ben told his mum he had decided to become a wizard, she thought it a very good idea.
âI could do with some magical help round here,â she said. âMaybe you could enchant the broom so itâll sweep up all the mess you boys make.â
Ben thought this was a stupid thing to waste wizardly powers on. He spent quite a bit of time daydreaming about what he would do with his magic once he worked out how to be a wizard, including turning one of the boys at school into a cane toad.
Dreaming about it didnât help him learn how to be a wizard, though.
Nor did the wizardâs cloak and hat his mum bought him at the school fete, nor the piles of books he borrowed from the library. All his potions ended up smelly messes that his mum threw down the sink, and all his spells were useless. As the weather got hotter and hotter, Ben nearly gave up trying to learn magic. Except when he saw another boy playing with a dog in the park.
There was an old witchâs house round the corner from Benâs place. All you could see of it was a tall tower with a pointed roof rising up behind a high sandstone wall covered in ivy. Ugly gargoyles held up the roof, and there was a dirty diamond-paned window grown over with leaves.
No-one knew who lived there. Sometimes, when Ben and Tim walked past with their mum, they could hear someone playing the piano, but they never saw anyone. Everyone called it the witchâs house, even Benâs grandma, who had grown up in the house where Ben and Tim now lived. Ever since Grandma had been a little girl, the witchâs house had been a place of mystery and rumour. So, naturally, Ben thought it was the perfect place to go looking for magical help.
One day he asked his mum if they could walk past it on their way to meet James, even though it was not the quickest route. Mum liked walking past the witchâs house too, so she didnât mind. She told them about the White Lady, the ghost that was meant to haunt the witchâs house, and how men had once met in the tower for secret rituals at midnight. It was always hard to know if Benâs mum was telling the truth as she liked telling stories, but Ben didnât mind because her stories were almost always interesting.
As Mum and Tim walked on ahead, hand-in-hand, Ben lagged behind, looking up at the big green doorway set into the wall. He wondered if he dared knock, or put a note for the witch under the door.
A cat was sitting on the hollowed step, washing its tail. It was a smoky-grey colour and had orange eyes. Ben liked cats as well as dogs, and so he bent and rubbed its fur. It arched its back under his hand and purred.
âI bet you know a spell or two,â Ben said to the cat. âI wish you could talk. Then youâd be able to help me.â
âIf I wanted to,â the cat answered.
CHAPTER THREE
Ben stared. âDid you just say
âDragons donât really exist,â James said.
âYes, they do! Iâve seen pictures,â Ben said.
âTheyâre just made up,â James said.
âNo, theyâre not!â
âYes, they are.â
âNo, theyâre not!â
âYes, they are.â
âWhat about St George?â Ben asked. âYou canât have St George without the dragon.â
âThatâs just a story,â James said.
âHow do you know?â Ben asked. âIf dragons donât exist, how come there are so many stories about them, and so many pictures?â
âWell, maybe they existed once,â James admitted. âBut they donât nowadays. Not here anyway.â
There was another long, depressed silence.
âWe need a magic lamp with a genie in it. Or a magic carpet, to take us to the piratesâ treasure. We need something magical,â Ben said. âI wish I was a wizard.â
âMe too,â said Tim.
CHAPTER TWO
When Ben told his mum he had decided to become a wizard, she thought it a very good idea.
âI could do with some magical help round here,â she said. âMaybe you could enchant the broom so itâll sweep up all the mess you boys make.â
Ben thought this was a stupid thing to waste wizardly powers on. He spent quite a bit of time daydreaming about what he would do with his magic once he worked out how to be a wizard, including turning one of the boys at school into a cane toad.
Dreaming about it didnât help him learn how to be a wizard, though.
Nor did the wizardâs cloak and hat his mum bought him at the school fete, nor the piles of books he borrowed from the library. All his potions ended up smelly messes that his mum threw down the sink, and all his spells were useless. As the weather got hotter and hotter, Ben nearly gave up trying to learn magic. Except when he saw another boy playing with a dog in the park.
There was an old witchâs house round the corner from Benâs place. All you could see of it was a tall tower with a pointed roof rising up behind a high sandstone wall covered in ivy. Ugly gargoyles held up the roof, and there was a dirty diamond-paned window grown over with leaves.
No-one knew who lived there. Sometimes, when Ben and Tim walked past with their mum, they could hear someone playing the piano, but they never saw anyone. Everyone called it the witchâs house, even Benâs grandma, who had grown up in the house where Ben and Tim now lived. Ever since Grandma had been a little girl, the witchâs house had been a place of mystery and rumour. So, naturally, Ben thought it was the perfect place to go looking for magical help.
One day he asked his mum if they could walk past it on their way to meet James, even though it was not the quickest route. Mum liked walking past the witchâs house too, so she didnât mind. She told them about the White Lady, the ghost that was meant to haunt the witchâs house, and how men had once met in the tower for secret rituals at midnight. It was always hard to know if Benâs mum was telling the truth as she liked telling stories, but Ben didnât mind because her stories were almost always interesting.
As Mum and Tim walked on ahead, hand-in-hand, Ben lagged behind, looking up at the big green doorway set into the wall. He wondered if he dared knock, or put a note for the witch under the door.
A cat was sitting on the hollowed step, washing its tail. It was a smoky-grey colour and had orange eyes. Ben liked cats as well as dogs, and so he bent and rubbed its fur. It arched its back under his hand and purred.
âI bet you know a spell or two,â Ben said to the cat. âI wish you could talk. Then youâd be able to help me.â
âIf I wanted to,â the cat answered.
CHAPTER THREE
Ben stared. âDid you just say
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