The Original Witch

Chapter 12

Today is Sunday, so we have no classes much to my liking. I am thankful because I was getting tired of sitting through the boring classes, which is most of them really depending on the day. 

I know all there is needed to know about history of both humans and magical creatures. I know all the spells since, well I am the creator of them. I was the one who wrote all of them down in my spell book that I passed down to my daughter.

And yes, I have a daughter. I may physically be seventeen years old, but I was human during the viking era when my family came over to the New Land, so it was not uncommon to have a child at my age. 

I do not know what happened to her because that was the day my youngest brother, Henrick, died. I only returned home for his funeral, watching from the trees as I tried to steer clear of my Father. I had to keep her safe due to the werewolves in our village and I did not want Father to know since he would be too protective of her like he was with me and Rebekah.

I gave her to a villager that was traveling to a new town, and I trusted this woman, who was also a witch. I gave her my spell book to give to my daughter, and I guess she did so since the spells are used today.

My head clears of any family related thoughts as I walk into The Three Broomsticks. At the bar, I  look into the eyes of the bartenders, "One fire whiskey please."

Everyone else my age order butter beers, but I need something stronger. Alcohol helps with the hunger and does not affect me as much as it does humans. I pick up the fire whisky and sit down in a booth by myself.

All too soon I am joined by Ron. I give him a questioning look, "What do you want Ron?"

He shrugs his shoulders and does not speak a word. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something but then closes it. I roll my eyes and take a sip of my fire whiskey. He eyes my drink and says, "How did you get that? You are not of age."

I laugh at his statement, "But yet I am. I used compulsion on the bar tender but you should already know that." Sometimes this one does not think straight.

I take another sip on my drink while he asks, "How old are you anyway?" I choke on my drink slightly, not expecting his question to be so straightforward. He opens his mouth again, "I know you are immortal, but I am curious."

I lean forward to rest my elbows on the wooden table as my eyes stare him down, "And why should I tell you that? Manners Ron, shame on you." I smirk as his curious face falls.

"Our deal was that you would tell me about" He lowers his voice slightly, "You know, vampires."

I place my drink down hard, "Yes, that was our deal. However, telling you about my life was not a part of the deal."

He rolls his eyes at this, "Fine. Why can't you tell me though?"

I let out a soft chuckle, "It is not that I can't tell you. I choose not to."

He raises his voice slightly, aggravated with me which only pleases me more, "Why not? It is not that big of a deal!"

"Exactly, it isn't, so it is not that a big of a deal if I do not tell you my age." He slumps down defeated and cannot think of anything to say to retort what I said. "Look, if I tell you, then it will cause problems and I can't have that."

His eyebrows raise, "What problems? It's not like I am going to go around telling people." So pushy this one is. Ron really wants to know my age and is really determined to find this out.

I sigh in defeat, "Fine, but you are not going to believe me" which is true since I do not think he would believe the fact I am over a thousand years old.