.Smurfette and the Potion

Smurfette dangled from the ribbon as the balloon floated through the forest. She noticed that it wasn't affected by the wind, or by her swinging the ribbon back and forth.

The line was straight as a rail laid out by Handy Smurf, from the bush to a window in Gargamel's hovel. She barely cleared the bottom of the open window.

"Oh!" she cried, thinking just too late to try to hook her foot to the sill. While she was twisted around to look out the window at the forest, the balloon continued across the room. It paused just above the fireplace, holding Smurfette over an empty glass bottle.

The blue ball dropped suddenly, lowering her down to the bottom and wedged itself into the mouth.

The ribbon parted from the stopper and fell at Smurfette's feet. At last, she could let go of the thing. She kicked at the coils wrapped around her feet and looked around.

The rubber of the balloon shrank down and gathered into a stopper. The dome of captured air got smaller and smaller, finally popping with a loud crack.

The noise woke Gargemel, sleeping in the next room.

"Huh? What was that?" he asked, rolling to his feet and standing. Azrael didn't answer. The cat just stretched from the corner of the bed to take over the vacated pillow.

The alchemist looked around, trying to figure out what had woken him. He stepped through the doorway, searching the room. His gaze panned across the decrepit room, passing the trash, dirty dishes, piled debris, fireplace, bookshelf...then twisted back to the fireplace.

Focusing on the bright yellow tresses in the bottle, a slowly growing smile revealed all three of the man's remaining teeth.

"You're back!" he crowed. "I knew Papa Smurf couldn't change you that much." He skipped happily over and plucked up the bottle.

"Please, Mr. Gargamel! You have to let me go!" Smurfette pleaded.

"But you just got here, my dear," he replied. He moved to sit at the table, looking down at the captive in his grasp. "Besides, you wanted to be here."

"No, I didn't," she assured him.

He pointed to the stopper. "But you used my Return Spell. The one I set up when I sent you into the Smurf village." She stared up at him with a blank expression. "You wouldn't have known about the balloon until you finished your mission. So! Have you?"

"I just saw a ribbon that looked extra smurfy," she said, shaking her head. "I didn't want to come here. And I didn't finish your mission, Gargamel. Papa Smuf turned me into a Real Smurf. I don't belong to you any more."

"Oh, fiddlesticks," he replied. "No one has that kind of power. If Papa Smurf had the power to turn a homunculus into a real Smurf, he certainly wouldn't be living in a toadstool."

"He likes his toadstool," she said.

"No one with real Power would like a toadstool," he said with finality. She stopped arguing. "The fact remains," he went on, "you're here. Part of you MUST remember being made by me."

She shook her head silently. "Well," he said with a happy lilt to his voice, "there's one way to find out!"

Smurfette watched from her glass prison as the man selected a tome from the vast pile of books around him.

"You see, my little spy, there are a number of spells I could use here." He flipped through the pages rapidly. "If any part of you remains from the creature I made, I can use that link." He found the page, a spell marked 'Creature,' with a large, illuminated 'C' at the top of the page. He placed a large bookmark at the spot and flipped through more pages.

"If not, if you really are entirely Smurf now," he mumbled, "I can... I can... Aha! I can still Command you to be my spy." Another spell was scrawled across the page, titled 'Command.' The illuminated first letter of the title was similar to the first spell. He placed another bookmark there and shut the book for a moment.

"Now...which one to try first, I wonder?" Smurfette shrank down in her bottle. His smile turned into a leer. "I think I'll try 'Creature,'" he said. "For old times sake."

He placed the book upon a stand, opened to the right spell and started gathering components.

"Air from a tomb," he muttered, "eye of a storm, twigs from a robin's nest...."

Occupied by his inventory, he didn't notice that Azrael was awake. The feline eyed the trapped Smurf from the doorway.