 Children's
Illustrations |
| “Missing
Magic” |
| Story:
Sharon Tregenza, Illustrations:
Oliver Weiss |
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This
story was first published by Young Times (2003).
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izzard was an ordinary kind of
Wizard. He had an ordinary long white beard and ordinary long white hair and wore a standard
wizard’s pointed hat. He spent most of his days making dull spells and most of his nights
sleeping. Tizzard was really a bit of a boring old Wizard.
Until something terrible happened.
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This book was just crammed full of magical mysteries but it was a difficult book to handle.
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Every night before he went to bed Tizzard locked away his “GREATEST SPELLS IN THE WORLD volume
2.” This book wasn’t ordinary—it was very special. When Tizzard was a wild young
wizard, and still in Wizard school
he had made amazing spells.
He made a spell that made rivers run up hill—very useful for when boats wanted to return
home. He made a spell that made snow warm—to the great delight of hundreds of
children. He made a spell that made rice grow ready cooked—very helpful to busy cooks all over the
world.
For these, and many other special spells, Tizzard was voted the wizardest wizard of all. He won the schools most coveted prize—the
“GREATEST SPELLS IN THE WORLD volume
2”. Not volume 1 (any old Wizard could win that) but volume 2—a very special magic
book.
This book was just crammed full of magical mysteries but it was a difficult book to handle. If you
didn’t know what you were doing, all sorts of odds things
happened.
Tizzard had once had an assistant, a silly lazy boy called
Grumble. One day, while Tizzard was out shopping for daisy leaves and bumblebee knee
powder, Grumble took a sneaky look inside the famous book. The minute he opened the pages there was a puff of smoke and a fluttering noise—a huge bird flapped out and grabbed him by the
nose.
Tizzard came home to find Grumble screaming in agony while the bird held on tightly with his big yellow beak.
As Tizzard grew older he grew timid and stuck to simple spells. He
hadn’t invented a spell of his own for a long, long time. In fact these days he only used the first few pages of the book because
he’d grown afraid of its power.
So when he woke up one morning and found that the book was missing he was very
worried.
—“I know,” he thought.
I’ll make a spell to find it. Then he realised that even a simple spell like the
“look for a book” spell was beyond him.
He’d grown too nervous and had lost the magic of creation.
Tizzard sat down to think. He thought he’d better have breakfast first and then
he’d think again. He had to do without his usual glitter
flakes. Glitter flakes were magical. They tasted of whatever Tizzard fancied eating at that particular moment but he
couldn’t remember the simple spell for them.
So he sat down to a breakfast of cold toast and frogspawn spread which he
didn’t fancy at all. Dinner was as bad—all he had in his cupboard were two toady biscuits and a mouldy bowl of buttercup
soup.
—“If I
can’t find my book of spells,” said Tizzard, “I'll starve to
death.”
He searched all the next day and the day after that but Tizzard
couldn’t find his magic book anywhere.
—“What if the wicked witch of the ditch has stolen it,” thought
Tizzard.
—“What if the big bald baddie has taken it away, they could get up to terrible mischief with a special book like
mine.
After several days and nights of searching, worrying and feeling
very, very hungry, Tizzard grew angry with himself.
—“Pull your self together old
man,” he said aloud. “You were once the Fizziest wizard, the busiest wizard you were voted the most wizardest wizard of all. Surely you can make a simple spell to find your magic
book.”
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There was a TREMENDOUS crash and a flash of purple smoke knocked Tizzard
backwards.
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Tizzard closed his eyes and concentrated. He thought back to his youth when he’d found making spells so
exciting. He
hadn’t worried then about what might happen to him. He’d been brave and
bold. Courage surged into Tizzard’s heart and filled it with
strength. He mumbled a jumble of words. He waved and shaved the air with his wand. He danced and pranced around the kitchen—just like the
fizziest, busiest wizard he really was.
There was a rumble heard over the jumble of words. Lightning flashed and smashed a chair—but Tizzard
didn’t care. For the first time in many years he was enjoying
himself.
At last there was a TREMENDOUS crash and a flash of purple smoke knocked Tizzard backwards.
When he had stopped coughing and picked himself up off the floor, he saw his precious magic book right by his
feet. He yelped with joy, picked it up and began immediately to scan through all the wonderful pages of
spells.
Tizzard never did find out where his magic book had gone. He thought that it had probably become so bored with not being used properly that it had made itself
disappear. But Tizzard didn’t mind at all—he was far too busy making the most amazing spells that anyone had seen for
years.
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