– Chapter 2 –
Scuffles and Odd Behavior
They began walking down the north end of the hallway, toward the left look out tower of Ribbawhim.
“Are you in love, Pollyanna?”
“Who? Uh. Me? Me? What? In love? Uh—no. No I’m not why do you ask?”
Why in all of existence would he ask a question like that?
“When my wife died, I was at loss for anything but distress. Couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, nobody could talk to me thing, life truly felt meaningless. But, like few wizards do, I experienced something else. Something quite dangerous. Magic distress.”
The hall was growing darker as they walked. These corridors saw little attention only by the light changers who traveled down them. And, based on barely being able to see anything, it was pretty clear to see they’d forgotten to do their job for the past few months.
With a snap of his finger, a white fire burned on the torches.
“Whoa…” White fire was exceptionally rare, only the best mages could wield it, let alone create it.
“You’ll get there one day,” he said, eyes not drawn to the flickering firelight or Pollyanna’s beaming face. Did he really mean that?
“When you go into magic distress, the magic inside of you begins to turn against you. It senses the depression in your body and begins to attack it as a demand to cheer up or it will break out to find a new possessor.”
“That doesn’t sound good.” That sounded terrible, to be honest. She’d seen magic break out of someone once, and it looked as bad as it sounds.
“No, it wasn’t,” he said with a chuckle. “The magic got so bad that I began to unleash impeccable spells into a Cephlacoffin—you know what that is, right?”
“Yeah, something that can receive an unlimited amount of magic energy.”
“Correct. Problem was I broke it. Three of them, to be exact.”
“Yes it was awful, destroyed half of my secret hideaway. I loved that place.”
“Three Cephlacoffin’s?” Destroying one was said to be nearly impossible.
He snapped his fingers, lighting the next section of torches. “It was a beautiful place, a cherry field right outside my door,” he mumbled, still relishing the memory apparently.
“I’m sorry about your place…” Was that the right thing go say?
“It’s past. I’ve rebuilt elsewhere since.” Nodding his head, the final section of torches blazed along end of the hallway, where it split two ways at the metal door of the watchtower. “The magic in me desired to be unleashed so badly that it had built up to a remarkable level.”
What else could that much magic do? Polly knew of doors, secret hidden doors that were really only legends, said to keep dark forces ceiled away from entering the world. It was stuff she leanend in History of Magic, but they were said to be old legends, not seen for thousands of years. But what if….
“Did the magic destroy anything else…important?”
“I’m not as worried about what was destroyed, but what wasn’t.”
That wasn’t very reassuring.
“There’s something here. Something in these very walls that has my blood on its toes.”
Her back tingled. Blood on it’s toes? “Like what?”
“Have a look for yourself, let me know what you find.”
What? Have a look for yourself? That’s like a death mission—who knows what she’d find. What would she find?!?! How would she find anything? “I’ve…I’ve noticed the melancholies. Could that be something?
The headmaster shook his head. “Just usual first semester pains. We push you to unleash your potentials for good—not your potentials for evil.” Phew. That was a relief to here, one more semester of that and Pollyanna would surly be dead. Oh and it was good to hear they weren’t evil also. That was good too.
“Keep your eyes open and your senses keen,” the Headmaster said, turning away.
“Wait.” That couldn’t’ be it. This conversation that would keep her up every night now for the rest of her life couldn’t be over. “That’s it? What do I do when I see something?”
With that, the headmaster walked and disappeared within four steps.
“Find you? What the bloody hell does that mean? Go to your office?”
She was only talking to darkness at this point.
Sometimes people gave the weirdest of answers, especially when you went to a school of specially gifted magic students. She guessed this was payback for telling guys the numbers to her Crow’s Box would come to them if it was meant to be.
Worked perfectly every time. That and changing her routes so she don’t just happen to ‘bump into them’ as they’d say, everyday.
“Find me. Humph. Helpful,” she mumbled, starting to wander down the other end of the hall, toward the staircase that would lead her to some steps known as The Grand Left. It was one hundred steps that went straight to the heart of Ribbawhin, Harminy Courtyard in. And what am I even supposed to be looking for? Something ‘in the walls.’ Sometimes I think the secrecy around here is it’s greatest downfall.
She hurried onto the first warn marble step of The Grand Left and began to prance down. Fellow students crossed or moved in her direction, some with spell books in hand and some without, some with friends while others alone and some just sat on the steps, taking in the sunshine while they had the chance.
Heading off the bottom step she marched toward the fountain in the middle but stopped to catch herself. She was moving really fast. Like a really really accelerated walk. Like she actually had a destination instead of just walking because she told my legs to move.
And there it was. On the other side of the glistening glimmer of the fountain water, one of her favorite things to spectat. A Scouler Porpa.
One of the hardest, meanest, most dangerous professors—if not the most intimidating professor—was, for a lack of better words, destroying a student.
Mr. Tizma Scouler, Professor of ancient spell reciting, had been challenged by an unwise, obviously overly confident, jock of a student. Polly actually knew the poor chap who was about to become a shut in for second semester. Isacc Minver.
An ‘always right’ lad who absolutely adored proving people wrong. Don’t get me wrong, he was smart, but he was the ‘shove in your face and down your throat’ kind of smart.
So this was a treat. Harsh, yes, but she’d been waiting for this moment since she witnessed Professor Scouler make a kid cry in a literally four seconds—without using force or magic. He did it with shear words—which, as he says, are the most powerful thing we have the ability to control.
Isacc stood off of the small park bench he proudly exalted himself upon as Mr. Scouler slowly approached him.
“I don’t find it right for you to push us to do what you can when we’ve only been studying it for a few months,” Isacc stated.
“You’re just a sad little bit boy who let his mum feed him until he was carried through our doors because his father wasn’t around.” Scouler came out strong. “That poor women. Not a backbone in her entire spine. And you took advantage of that you disgusting little worm.”
“You’re brining my family into this? That’s uncalled far. And it’s low.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. When again did you become the judger of low and not low. Or do you think you’re higher than everyone else because you turned in your classmates for cheating off your test.” He stopped his drive. “Oh but wait, you let them.” The sarcasm in his tone was piercing. “Because they were going to pay for your self-promotional party. But you turned on them, after they paid you, because you had a ‘good conscience’.”
Isacc’s gaze broke.
“Oh. You look even more pathetic now than you did when daddy didn’t reply to your letters.”
Isacc clenched his fists.
“Didn’t think I knew?”
Isacc relocked his anger.
“Thought you could hide it like you tried to make up for your lack of love by having those multiple girlfriends. What was it? Six? Or eight?” Professor Scouler scoffed. “Poor girls. They just wanted you to love them but you were just like your father.”
Isacc’s nostrils flared and he sent a whirlwind of green magic toward Professor Scouler. Within a flash, Professor Scouler had drawn his wand and muttered ‘Iver Ra Guven Van’.
The wand in Isacc’s hand flew toward Professor Scouler while the magic that came from it went back toward Isacc.
What a quick reversal spell…