The wizard that lived in the wooden shack in the woods was always happy to have children visit.
The kids in the village were likewise happy to call in on a casual basis. Sometimes to watch him do clever little magic tricks with his hands; other times to listen to his stories of how he had performed some form of enchantment in order to save the day. They loved listening to his stories, although they often wondered how true they were. In fact, considerations of this sort that went through their young minds, often included some element of doubt about whether he was really a wizard. After all, they would say to each other, the magic may just be sleight of hand, conjuring tricks, and his stories… heh! Anyone can make up stories, right?
The largest room in the old building was adorned with all sorts of strange objects. The boys and girls often asked about them and would be rewarded by a description of how they could be used to perform all sorts of magical charms. A popular item, probably because it was the one thing that he never handed around, was the glass jar that sat on the mantelpiece over the fireplace. It was quite small, made of clear glass with a black screw-on lid. It was about a quarter full of something that looked like powder.
Whenever he was asked about it, which was often, he would tell them that it contained a most precious element, fairy pollen. It was named this way because as a pollen it had been gathered from the wings of fairies. Fairies used this to enrich whatever they brush with their wings. He would tell them that this was similar to pollination, but instead of it being a fertilizing element for flowering plants, fairies use it for much greater magical purposes, such as healing sick or wounded animals, even bringing them back to life on occasion. Sometimes he would point to the jar and say that the lid was firmly screwed on and sealed fast with a spell that restricted its access. The wizard would go on to explain that it could only be opened by a person with good intentions.
Now, it just so happened that one of the boys from the village, one of the few that believed in the true powers of the wizard, had recently come home from school to learn that his much-loved dog had been run over by a car. His father had taken it home to be buried in their back garden. The boy was very upset about losing his life-long companion. As it was getting late, too dark to bury it straight away, it was decided that father and son would do it together in the morning.
Later that night, when his family was asleep, he climbed out of his bedroom window and made for the wizard’s house. There, he explained what had happened and pleaded with him to let him take a little of the pollen to take home. The wizard agreed to this on the condition that the matter would stay strictly between the two of them. He said that there were many disbelievers in the village and any knowledge of what they were doing would only complicate what was a harmonious existence. He said that people accepted miracles a lot easier than magic. The boy agreed and the wizard nodded. Then, reminding him of the spell that was placed on the lid, he took the jar down and handed it to him. Neither of them were in the least bit surprised when the lid came free. The wizard tipped a tiny amount into a small tin and carefully snapped the lid on.
When the boy got home he went straight to the shed where his dog was wrapped in old sheets. He pulled the coverings away and sprinkled the pollen along the dog’s body. After a minute or two, the dog’s front paws began twitching slightly. Seeing that the fairy pollen was going to do the job, he closed the shed door and returned to bed. He was very happy and laid thinking for some time about how, as agreed, he would see the dog coming to life as nothing more than a miracle.
Then, the barking started.