There. She had said it. She had dismissed and finished her previous life.
Darwin nodded approvingly. "Good," he said. "And you'll be happy you've accepted being a witch. Because if you hadn't and you'd gone back to that cottage of yours you would have been caught and sentenced to death by the Muggles, no doubt about it."
"Muggles?" Guinevere repeated confusedly.
"Muggles - a term for people who are completely non-magical," Darwin explained patiently.
Then Guinevere remembered. "That catcher," she said hastily, urgently, "he's not a Muggle. I saw him - didn't you - using your wand easily and then he somehow -" she frowned - "vanished."
Darwin stared at her, gaping, shocked.
"A wizard?" He breathed. "I - I - and you say he vanished?"
Guinevere nodded earnestly.
"He disapparated," Darwin said bitterly. Then he shook his fist at no one in particular. "What a traitor! What treacherous employment to his fellow witches and wizards! It's so dangerous - and so traitorous," he added darkly. "I - I can't believe it. But you're right. He did use my wand perfectly." Then he sighed heavily, dismally. "My wand. Guinevere, what are we going to do?"
But at that moment Guinevere felt a gentle nudge by her elbow. She looked around, and noticed Blaze the Kneazle pawing her, with a slender, smooth piece of wood in his mouth. The catcher's wand. He deposited it near her, and then proceeded to roll around on the ground playfully, tacitly requesting a tummy rub. Darwin, slowly and carefully, picked up the wand and held it in his hand. Then he launched pats and strokes and all manner of affection upon Blaze, who accepted it, delighted, enjoying the fond attention. Guinevere took the wand from Darwin and examined it curiously. Such a small, insignificant thing it seemed on the outside. She waved it absently, and a gentle, mellow light shone from the tip. But inside it contained such power.
Darwin noticed her analysing it and paused.
"It's not as good as my own wand, of course," he said. "It obviously won't work as well with me. As the saying goes, 'the wand chooses the wizard'. But it'll have to go. Of course we must express much gratitude to Blaze here -" and he scratched affectionately behind the Kneazle's ears, causing the animal to purr loudly. "As I said before, I depended on my wand, and this one - well -" he smiled ruefully - "it's basically saved our lives. But anyway, we're wasting time. Help me up, will you?"
"Oh, yes," Guinevere said, jerking back into focus and allowing him to place his arm around her shoulders, thus switching some of his weight onto her. She supported him, struggling to her feet and trying not to stumble. He thanked her, leaned against a tree, and inhaled and exhaled deeply.
"What did he do to you?" Guinevere asked, in a mixture of concern and curiosity.
"It was the Knockback Jinx I think," Darwin replied wearily. "Not a serious spell, but when my head hit the tree I probably had a concussion and lost consciousness. I should count myself lucky though, it could've been a lot worse."
Guinevere, who had raised her eyebrows sarcastically at the word 'lucky' now stared at him with dubiety distinct on her face. Yet it was quickly replaced with fresh curiosity.
"The Knockback Jinx?" She asked.
Darwin nodded. "Yes. Knocks you back with an invisible force, like that catcher demonstrated. But anyway, haven't I said not to dawdle? We need to get out of this area. Now. As soon as possible, anyway. Are you hungry?"
Guinevere nodded. She had only had had a meagre breakfast of carrots and her stomach growled for more.
"We'll find something on the way," Darwin answered. "Blaze, come on, let's go."
And they set off, into the unknown, into the undetermined.

THE END
Continue onto Book 2!