Chapter 2- Luther
(FOURTEEN YEARS AGO)
Professor Rodante walks before us in the small lecture hall, placing papers on our tables, and I squirm in my seat.
Tests are a big deal in regular school, and this weekend, wizard academy is way more important.
For several weeks, it’s been drilled into us that we’re going to be saving the magical world.
Those who pass this four-year course will be part of a new superhero-type group here in the Union.
We’re training to be part of the first-ever batch of agents in the Sorcery Protection Enforcement and Logistics League.
Imagine me, an agent of SPELL. So dope.
Therefore, this first written exam on magical history and geography is crucial. The professor walks by my long table and, after handing Necia her graded exam, stands in front of me.
“Great work, Luther,” she says. After she gives me my paper, I flip it over―99%! Yes. That’s an A-plus in New York, it should still be high marks here in Scotland. Realistically, the Union is all cultures merged into one; I know this because it was a question I aced on the test.
“Wow! Thank you!”
“I expected nothing less from the son of a councilman.” She gives me a once-over through her thick glasses, and my smile falls. There it is again, that shadow of Dad’s greatness always shrouding everything I do.
“Um, sure.”
“Great job, Luther!” Necia says.
I smile at her and reply, “Yeah, it’s just the first exam. I doubt I’ll get the highest marks every time.”
“I’m proud of all of you!” Professor Rodante announces.
Her voice echoes over the twelve of us teenagers here in the lecture hall.
She walks to my left and hands a paper to the dude at the neighboring table with the short haircut.
“The mean grade average was eighty-five, and someone got a 101. I guess that means I should make my tests more difficult.”
A smattering of polite laughter fills the room, but I’m silent. I scrutinize my exam. Someone got more than me?
“Thank you, extra credit,” a voice to my left says in a sing-song voice. I glance at the boy―Devries, I think his name is? He’s wearing a baggy shirt over a long thermal, but I can tell he’s as skinny as me.
“I bet he can run fast, faster than you,” a sinister voice in my head whispers. “He looks athletic with his long legs.”
Shut up, voice. Those are gay thoughts, and the world hates gay boys, so that’s not me.
“It was only because of the extra credit that you got that score.”
The boy glances at me, and my throat goes dry. Okay, that was supposed to be a voice in my head.
Where I expected a clapback, he looks me up and down instead. “Didn’t say it wasn’t. But hey, maybe next test you’ll get the highest marks, for real this time.” He leans back and smirks. “That was a bit premature of you to celebrate, wasn’t it, son of the councilman?”
My blood boils. “Big deal. It’s just the first of our exams of the year.”
“First of four years’ worth of exams.” He whistles. “Can’t wait to be an agent of SPELL. It’ll bloody brilliant.” When he glances at me, his blue eyes shine, and my skin runs hot. “And you’ll be there too, I presume. If you make it to graduation.”
I grunt and say, “I will, Devries. And I’m gonna be at the top of the class. Just wait for the next exam.”
He shrugs. “The real test is gonna be the field demo of magical skills. That’s where we’ll prove our worth.”
“Then I’ll best you there, too.” I’m not sure where this competitive instinct is blooming from, but I want so badly to wipe that smug grin off his face.
Mom always told me not to resort to violence, lest someone label me a thug and lock me up.
But triumphing in academia will prove who the better wizard is.
He looks me up and down again with an amused grin. Why isn’t he threatened or annoyed? It’s infuriating. “Sure thing, Lou.”
“It’s Luther,” I say through gritted teeth.
“That’s lunch!” Professor Rodante announces. “I trust you all know where the Union cafeteria is.” She sits down, and the sounds of everyone picking up their bookbags fill the lecture hall.
Devries is the first to stand up, and I notice his baggy, ripped jeans. Must be a London-style thing, I’m guessing that’s where he’s from based on his accent. Then I wonder what his ass looks like underneath. No, stop it, I’m not gay.
“Whatever you say, Lulu.” His taunting words snap me out of my trance.
“That’s not my name!” I holler as he saunters off. Some kids give me weird looks, but I ignore them. Necia beckons me to come to lunch and walks away, so I stand up and put on my bookbag. Everyone trails out of the wooden double doors, but I stand still, holding the graded exam.
Ninety-nine is good, but 101 is better. Devries thinks he’ll keep doing better than me, I bet. Well, that’s just unacceptable. He’s my academic foe, and I’m going to prove my worth―to him, my father, and the entire wizard community.
(Now)
If I squint my eyes, I can still see fourteen-year-old me sitting at the long desk in front of me. In my memory, little Necia is also sitting there, and I smile.
But alas, that was the past, and I’m standing at the teacher’s desk.
When I look behind me, Professor Rodante, old and yet inexplicably unaged after more than a decade, stands by the chalkboard.
Necia and Girish are by the double doors, another relic from my sorcery protection school days.
After spending every Saturday in this lecture hall for four years, one would think I never wanted to come back.
Well, I didn’t. I’m simply the guest lecturer for the spring. Dad wanted me to do it, and it makes sense to teach the latest batch of fourth-years from the perspective of an active agent of SPELL.
The kids stare at me in silence, and I gulp. Teenagers can smell fear, I bet. I’m not used to giving lectures, but it’s only for today.
“So, uh…hi?” I play with my fingers, then shove my hands into my pockets.
“Professor Rodante wanted me to come speak to you all since…you know, you’re on your way to graduating high school. While some of you might go on to university, all of you will have your internships here at the Union, leading up to being full-fledged agents after a few years. That’s…pretty sick.”
They don’t reply. The kids don’t even blink. “So, um…who can tell me what the goal of sorcery protection is?”
“To protect sorcery,” one boy in the front mutters, and the kids all chuckle.
“Okay, but protect it from what?” I ask.
“From being exposed to or harming non-magical folk,” one kid says.
“Yes!” I clap my hands. “You all sound like experts already, haha!” My laugh sounds forced, even in my ears.
After putting my hands in my pockets, I gaze at my audience. One kid clears their throat, but otherwise, the silence is deafening. This is terrible. I turn around and look at the various scribbles on the chalkboard for inspiration. Perfect, their most recent lesson plan.
I turn back around. “Who can tell me what the difference between a jinx and a hex is?”
Thankfully, one girl in the front raises her hand promptly so I point to her. “Yes?”
“A jinx is general entropy, also known as ‘bad luck’, and lasts anywhere from a few seconds to several hours. Contrarily, a hex is a designed disruption of functioning, an alteration of reality. It can last anywhere from a few hours to a few months, and generally manifests in much more harmful ways.” She grins at me, and her African accent is musical.
“Great. Absolutely.” I clap my hands together. “It seems Professor Rodante is doing a great job training you all in magical theory. If you’re to graduate and become agents, you’ll be tasked with undoing hexes and overcoming jinxes.”
One kid on my left raises his hand. “Yes, a question?”
“Have you dealt with hexes in the field?”
“Mhm.”
“Why would someone cast a hex on you?” the blond kid asks in his American accent. “I thought you only fought monsters from the Other Side.”
I stand up straight. “Being an agent means taking on all magical threats. And unfortunately, sometimes they come from other wizards.”
The kids murmur in shock and interest. “You’ve had to fight and kill warlocks?” the girl in front asks.
My throat goes dry, and I ponder what’s the best way to describe the violent part of my job; they’re barely eighteen, it looks like, and I’m not trying to scar their minds. “It’s uh, classified.”
The kids chatter in interest, and hands dart up. “Um, you?”
“Why would wizards want to hurt anyone in the Union? We’re trying to protect the magical community from the mortals.”
“I bet it’s the witches,” a boy next to her says. “My dad says he’s not happy about letting them into the Union.”
“Hey, watch it.” I point at him. “We don’t slander witches in this house. Who can tell me the actual difference between the spellcasting of wizards and witches?”
The girl in front raises her hand, and I point at her. “Witches draw their power from the full moon; meanwhile, we wizards pull our power every day from the Sun.”
“Exactly. I was there when witches joined the Union. It’s an adjustment for sure, but we’re the Union of Mages. And what does the S in agents of SPELL stand for?”
The kids nod and murmur, “Sorcery,” out loud.
“Precisely.” I look directly at the unimpressed boy in the second row.
“You may not be fans of it, but this is a new era. Witches and wizards are learning to work together. The mortals go to war and fight every day over arbitrary labels like religion, sexual orientation, and nationality.” I pace to my right and look at each of the students.
“We don’t want to be like them. We welcome all mages who seek peace and prosperity.
And how do we ensure that they’re using the geo arcanum appropriately? ”
“The morality test,” one student replies.