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catsafarithewriter · 9 months

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Day 5: Free Day

A/N: For today, I’ve dusted for an AU I had knocking around for some time, a Bedknobs and Broomsticks AU (one of my favourite childhood movies of all time) which I never got much further than this, writing-wise, but I still felt would be fun to share. Enjoy!

Despite what was said about Muta, he was not actually a scam artist.

For starters, his drawing skills started and ended with stick-figures, and for the scamming part... well. as far as he was concerned, anyone who bought something from a shady street trader who advertised himself as The Amazing Renaldo Moon either knew they were buying tat, or thoroughly deserved to get scammed. As a lesson.

No, Muta was an entrepreneur. He would revive interest in the old and the tatty, the cheap and the trashy, with a bit of showmanship and flair. And if the two-penny whistle seemed to work for no one but him, or the trick match-box broke on the way home, well... that was hardly his fault, was it?

He was regarded by the locals, not with any malice, but in the same manner as the clock spire that was struck regularly by lightening, or as the stray tom cat that menaced the north-east alley. He was a part of the city’s ambiance, considered only a threat to tourists too easily parted with their coin.

Tourists, like the Asian woman lingering at the end of his act.

She approached and, taking note of her dress sense, Muta amended that to probably Japanese. She had a ginger cat at her heel. He tucked a brooch into his sleeve, if only for the dramatic flair of seemingly summoning it out of nowhere a second later. “A pretty brooch for a pretty lady?” he tempted. “Real mother-of-pearl there, gifted to me from the Jade Empress after aiding her an oni attack,” he continued, recalling what little he could from the cheap adventure novels he occasionally encountered.

The woman somehow managed to give the appearance of looking down at him, despite being - like most people - a good foot shorter. “You’re Renaldo Moon?” she asked incredulously.

“The Great Renaldo Moon to my fans, and Muta to my friends.” This would have been the opportune moment to sweep a hat dramatically from his head, but - alas - he had sold his previous one only the day before. He began to pack away his stand.

The woman didn’t crack a smile. “Mr Moon, I am here about your correspondence college for witchcraft.”

“Very good, we take cash or cheque–”

“I am one of your pupils.”

Muta attempted the smile that usually mollified these sorts - the morons who actually bought into the witchcraft nonsense and expected a correspondence course of all things to bestow sorcery upon them. He supposed that explained the cat. “My dear lady, if this is about the postage and packaging expense, the contract clearly states that any additional cost is the responsibility of the pupil to pay–”

“I am here about the last lesson,” the woman said.

Ah.

“Your course clearly advertised it as How to Become a Witch in Ten Easy Lessons, and yet you closed the college after the ninth one.”

Muta started packing faster. “No refunds.”

“But I must have the spell that comes with the last lesson,” the woman announced.

“Sorry, Chicky, but I’ve really gotta be somewhere else.” He folded his stand up and hefted it under his arm. “Wish you luck with your witching, but I really – hello.”

The woman had rounded on him and was now standing before him as if she was in any position to stop him. “Mr Moon, I’m warning you that I really must insist on the last lesson.”

He grinned. “You and whose army? The cat?” He elbowed past her. “Now, if yer don’t mind, I’ve got places to be...”

He heard the rustle of paper, as if the woman were hurriedly flicking through a small notebook, and then the muttering of words that sounded suspiciously familiar. The laugh that started out in his belly came out as a squeak, and suddenly he was looking up at the world from a grand height of two inches.

The ginger cat loomed over him.

A hand swept him up before the cat could get any funny ideas, and the woman grimaced down at him. “Now, Mr Moon,” she said, “are you listening?”

The mouse spell didn’t last too long.

Just long enough for him to be sure that, yes, the spell he’d passed off as hocus pocus did actually work, and yes, he wasn’t hallucinating, and yes, he was still craving cheese ten minutes later.

He occupied a bench and tried to resist the urge to twitch non-existent whiskers.

“My spell?” he said, for the second time in as many minutes. “You’re sure that’s one of my spells? From my school?”

“Not one of your best spells, I have to say,” the woman said. “It has a tendency to wear off the moment a clock chimes, but yes.”

“My spell?”

“Yes. Now, are you going to go round in circles all day, or can we start talking about that final lesson?”

“But you don’t understand,” Muta said. “They were just nonsense words I got out of an old book! They weren’t meant to be real.” He faltered. “My god, think of what I could have charged for actual magic.”

“Mr Moon–”

“Muta.”

“Muta,” she amended curtly, “please stick to the point. You said you found the spells in a book?”

He nodded.

“Well then, I think I need to see this book, firsthand. Mr Moon - Muta - are you listening?”

“I... yes.” He’d had a book of actual spells, and he’d thought he’d been overcharging all this time! If he could convince people they were real, just think of the demand! “At my home.”

“Well then, I think that will be our next stop. Where is it?”

Muta rattled off an address without thinking. If he could get this woman to help advertise the spells - why, he’d be rich! And it wouldn’t even be a scam! Of course, he’d have to copyright them or something, to make sure they weren’t passed around without money going through his hands first, and...

“Oi, where do you think you’re going?” he called. “It’s that way!”

The woman looked up from the brick wall she was standing before. “Oh, I know. But I have a much quicker way.” Out of a pocket, she brought a doorknob and - somehow - slotted it into the wall. “Now, no dilly-dallying. I have no idea how long the doorway stays open, and I don’t want to lose anyone.”

“What doorway–” he began, but the woman was already repeating his address to the doorknob and tapping it. On the third tap, she turned it a quarter to the left and – as promised – a doorway appeared in the stonework. She pulled the handle, and it opened with the greatest of ease.

“Is that...”

“Your transportation spell?” she finished. “Yes. Now, let’s go. We have a book to find.”

It only occurred after Muta had already taken the fateful step through the veiled doorway, that he had only the word of a mildly pissed customer and complete stranger that the shadowed portal was entirely safe - and then he was standing on the overgrown lawn of where he was currently calling home.

The house before him was mostly boarded up, with only the occasionally window left unadorned by barriers or unbroken, and what could be seen of the interior seemed to be composed mostly of cobwebs and dust sheets. A lone crow was perched on the garden gate behind them, and watched the proceedings with a curious air.

The woman stepped out after him, with that ginger cat still at her heels, and – if possible – looked even less impressed than before. “This is where you live?” she asked.

“You got a problem with that, Chicky?”

“No more than the original occupants will.”

“Ah, relax.” He shoved open the large bay window leading into the lounge, and clambered through. “They ain’t coming back any time soon. They thought they’d pissed off some ghosts and skedaddled out of here.”

“And had they?” asked an unfamiliar voice.

Muta looked at the woman, just to confirm that the smooth baritone hadn’t somehow come from her, and then glanced down.

“I asked, had they?” said the cat. “Pissed off a ghost?”

“Hey, Chicky–” Muta began slowly.

“Haru,” the woman amended. “It’s Haru Yoshioka.”

“Sure. Remind me, did I give a lesson on talking cats or...?”

“This isn’t your doing,” the cat deadpanned. “And I notice you still haven’t answered my previous question regarding the ghost situation. Is there indeed a haunting here, or was that merely another trick you had up your sleeve to secure this residence?”

“They were going to turn this place into a hotel,” said a new voice.

In the open window perched the same crow from before.

Haru looked to Muta. “Why did a talking cat shock you when a talking crow is apparently your housemate?”

“He ain’t a crow,” Muta said. “He’s a ghost.”

“A ghost crow.”

“A ghost who’s got a crow form,” Muta corrected.

The crow flapped his wings. “Always liked the idea of flying, and now I can. Anyway, the previous folk were going to tear this place down and build a modern hotel and I had other ideas. The name’s Toto, by the way.”

“Haru,” said Haru. She gestured to the cat. “And this is Baron.”

The cat - Baron - nodded in the approximation of a bow.

Toto passed a scrutinising look over the cat. “That’s one nasty curse you’ve got there, my friend.”

“That’s why we need the last lesson,” Haru said, and she turned to Muta. “The last lesson in the correspondence course was meant to be on breaking curses.”

#tcr birthday bash #tcr birthday bash 2023 #day 5 free day #the cat returns #cat writes #bedknobs and broomsticks au

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