Warnings: some graphic descriptions of awful stuff, nature!witch Harry

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Harry loves being a witch, because it means something.

It's important to give back and since most people have forgotten how, witches exist to teach them, or if failing that, organizing unions and committees to stop waste mismanagement.

This means a lot of things, but mainly planting. And going to damaged areas and helping the plants along to grow faster. Watching over the main forests of the world and stop illegal logging. Gossiping with the fishes on how the corals are this year and how many stupid humans took their picture that week.

So Harry loves being a witch. It's an adventure, a calling and a duty all at once and she wouldn't change it for the world.

Sometimes though. Harry wishes she weren't a witch.

Because being a witch meant that things happened to you.

"Would you like to help me bake some cookies?" she asks the child that suddenly appeared in her kitchen.

The child nods, a bright smile on her face. "Does it take long?"

"I'm half-way done," Harry says. "I just have to mix the dough and scoop out portions."

She doesn't mention the blood coating the side of the girls body, or the blood steadily dripping down. There are claw marks on the girls arms and some of her nails are ripped off.

She doesn't mention it, because as she acts calm and friendly, the bloodstains are fading away and the nails are growing back. The ravaging signs are a mere specter to her bright smile.

The child is helpful and Harry doesn't do anything different if it were any other child. When it's finally in the oven, the child, who had so carefully avoided touching her, hugs her. Arms around her waist and tears soaking her apron.

"It's going to taste amazing," the child says, voice muffled. "Thank you for letting me help."

"I hope you have a pleasant journey," Harry says with a choked voice.

Within one blink and the next, the child is gone and Harry has to sit down on a stool. Somewhere in the world, she knows there is a child who had died such a violent and terrible death that her spirit hadn't been able to cope.

She closes her eyes for the little girl and weeps for her.

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I swear, I wanted to continue, but when I ended this scene, all the hair in my body was standing up. I just realized that I'd written something so creepy and sad. I couldn't bear to continue writing it.