Full-blooded Witches, Half-Blood Prince

For the four, sisterly, pseudo-witches gathering at The Crossings in the North Woods of Massachusetts, the glorious June day was uninteresting compared to the sparks and glitter that awaited them inside.  Though sunshine had been seldom seen in these parts for a very long time, this was the day of a reunion!  The Moore sisters were celebrating Harry Potter’s return to the silver screen – Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince!  Who needed sunshine?  They had a whole lotta magic.

Quickly, the forecast for the gathering turned gray, as half of the witches encountered minor setbacks.  Jen of Beauxbatons gleefully rode in her glimmering Corolla while a sad bunch of frosted pumpkin pasties shed their decorations in the heat of the backseat.  Meanwhile, as Bridget of Slytherin bounded down the stairs to her vehicle with her goods in tow, she tumbled and injured her ankle.  She could not even access her wand with which to mutter “reparo,” nor did she have a bottle of Skele-gro on hand.  In any event, she slithered into the car and took off.  Hearing this news, Eileen of Gryffindor and Katie of Ravenclaw fidgeted nervously with the ties on their hats.   Would this reunion be over before it had begun?

Jen eventually arrived, saddened by her demolished dessert.  Bridget, too, reached The Crossings.  While her sisters took pains to comfort her in her injury, they couldn’t help but stand, mesmerized, in front of Bridget’s refurbished hat – the sheer size of it would be too much for Rubeus Hagrid, let alone this beloved witch.  That Bridget and her Slytherin showmanship!

Katie concocted a potion named “The Half-Blood Prince’s Royal Blush.”  Pure cherry bliss.  Delightfully dolled-up tater-tots followed, along with a salad, pasta, and balsamic vinegar chicken.  Mmmm… magical awards to you both, Bridget and Eileen!  No one knows how to cook like a magical lady.

The sisters worshipped Mr. Potter by completing “Potter Libs,” and watching a video on his previous achievements.  Do not be mistaken, however – hilarity almost constantly ensued.  Mediocre no more, each sister hurled spells at one another with increasing severity.  (No one got hurt!)  Well, Bridget didn’t further injure herself.

Jen’s pasties were as delicious as they were melty, and the sisters knew that her edible malfunction would only fuel her fire for the cauldron more vigorously.  Trained by house-elves, trained for life.

Faster than one can say “quidditch,” the night was over.  Battered by magic and battered by life on planet Earth, the bewitching sisters had to admit that nobody, muggle or magic-folk, is immune from fatigue. 

The streets were quiet.  Obviously, the neighbors that had spied the women from the beginning were keeping their distance.  As Jen, Bridget, and Katie kicked off in their cars, Eileen waved them on dreamily: perhaps there’s a discount for witches who dare to patronize Dunkin’ Donuts on Sundays…