With a quick flick of her wrist, hundreds of tiny stars shot forth into the air and fell gently onto the soundly sleeping boy. And when the last star was absorbed, Agnes smiled and brushed his cheek tenderly with her fingertips.

“Welcome to the World of Wizards, Jayben Treat.”

BANG!

Agnes turned in a startle as the French doors burst open and a mysterious wind tore into the room. With her wand hand she grabbed onto her hat and held tightly to her flapping cape with the other. Yet despite her valiant effort, she found herself thrown to the padded window seat underneath the bay window.

On the bed, Fiona cowered. Her eye’s narrowed and her ears lay back as she stared toward the flapping curtains attached to the balcony doors.

Then just as quickly as the tempest arrived … the room settled into an eerie quiet. It was the kind of silence that leads to wild imaginations, short breaths and fast beating hearts.

A large lump formed in the throat of Agnes as she bravely moved her wand about the room, trying to spot a burglar or a forest elf bent on making mischief.

The light from her wand passed across a flat screen television mounted to the wall at the far side of the room. To the left she moved her wand, highlighting a door and then the wood bureau and a host of posters, before returning full circle to the bed.

“Nothing.” she whispered unconvinced.

 As she turned and faced the French doors, a subtle waft of night air, thick with ancient magic, brushed against her neck and moved out of the house. Her eyes narrowed with concern as she watched a small ball of dust tumble across the moonlit floor, pulled by the mysterious breeze as it exited onto the balcony.

Her fingers numb from the experience tapped soberly against her cape. Pensively she stared toward the young boy still in a deep sleep.