"I won't be alone!" Spoke the little English lad of eight with such conviction. A smile tugged at his lips as he flipped opened the old leather bond book to a particularly helpful spell.
Looking over said spell, he made a mental list on the things he would need. “Sugar, spice, and everything nice!” He slammed the book shut, tucking it under his arm. “I’ll show that stupid frog face and bothersome albino!”
The smirking blond sat the book on the kitchen floor, flipping back to the spell. Walking around his mother’s kitchen he found the sugar canister and grabbed a jar of cinnamon and nutmeg off the spice rack. This plan was aces!
He pulled out the largest stock pot he could find, dumping the ingredients into it. Once again he looked around, wondering what would be considered 'nice'.
"Flowers are nice,” he said and tapped the side of his face with his index finger, “I like tea too!” He scurried around the kitchen, gathering more things to add to his concoction.
He sat on the floor in front of the pot and scanned the book once more. Reading over the words printed on the page, it said he needed a name first before he could read the spell aloud. He raised an eyebrow and thought for a moment.
"(F/n)!" he shouted, fist pumping the air.
The lad chortled, pulling the hood to his cloak around his head. Holding the book in his left hand and pointing at the pot with his right hand, he began to chant. His small voice boomed into the empty kitchen like a bear growling in a cave.
He waited patiently.
"What’re ye doing in 'ere?" His older brother, Allistor walked in and over to the fridge. The fiery redhead glanced at the pot and shrugged his shoulders, with the feeling of frustration. "If mum catches you 'ith that, your arse will be sore fer a week." A wide grin twisted to his lips, knowing the chances of his little brother getting in trouble were good.
"Go away! I want to make Gilbert and Francis look like idiots!" He laughed wickedly, drawing his head back in a crazy manner.
“Crazy little bastard,” Allistor said, pulling out a can of root beer. “Must be touched in the head?” He muttered, popping the top on the soda pop.
A small puff of purple smoke escaped from the pot and then died out. The blond sighed, looking disappointed.
“That was entertaining!” The mini Scot scoffed. “Not!”
"Oi,” bellowed the Irish twins. They charged in full force, causing Arthur's eye to twitch with a rhythmical movement.
Ian and Riley stopped dead in their tracks as they watched their younger brother standing in his magic cloak. "Whatca ya doing?" They asked in unison.
"Making a friend!" Arthur huffed, and turned to the sound of Allistor’s laughter.
"You can't make friends!" He roared, and gripped his side from laughing hard. "And you're eight! What do you know about magic anyway?"
"I believe you can!" In walked a boy a bit younger then Arthur, Dylan.
"Shut it, you lot!" Ian growled at them, pointing at the pot.
The pot started to shake and rattle as the five boys slowly stepped away.
"The bugger's gonna blow!" Allistor yelled, pulling the others down to the ground to take cover.
A bright pink glow filled the kitchen and then went out as quickly as it had come. The boys looked at each other, waiting for something else to happen.
Arthur gasped and bit his bottom lip, "Mum is going to kill me!"
The sliver stock pot laid in two pieces on either side of the kitchen.
Arthur scrambled to his feet, grabbing at the pieces that would surely cause his death when his mother found out.
"I think you might have a bit more of problem then the pot, Artie?" Riley's finger shook as his pointed at the girl that sat before them.
All their mouths hung agape at the sight of this lovely girl that looked wide eyed at them. She grabbed a dish rag off the counter, trying to cover herself best she could.
"Who are you?" You finally asked, as the five stood, disbelieving what was in front of them.
"Who are we?" Ian asked pointing at himself. "I think the better question is; who are you?"
"I'm (f/n)," you whispered and pointed at Arthur. "He made me."
"Holy flying mint bunnies!" Arthur cheered and jumped in the air, laughing in Allistor's face. "I did it! I did it! I bloody did it!"
But Allistor, not to be out done by his younger brother, would soon deflate the ego of English bloke. "Christmas is going to be even better this year brothers!" Allistor smirked at Arthur.
"Why?" The Irish twins asked, enjoying the idea of an ever better haul.
"Mum is going to kill Arthur... more gifts for us!"
"She always wanted a girl," Dylan smiled at Arthur. "Maybe she won't kill you to bad."
"Not to be rude," you finally spoke, brushing your (h/c) hair back. "But I would like some clothes."
Without words, because none where needed at that moment, the boys dashed up the stairs. Finding anything that looked suitable for the young lady in the kitchen, they bought it down stairs and placed it at her feet. Much a like a sacrifice to the gods, they were timid.
"Could you let me dress?" You asked, still hiding yourself from their view with the dishrag that wasn’t hiding much from the imagination.
"Aye," Ian chuckled and nudged Riley, "he's dead!"