Chapter 3 #2
Professor Hummingdoor was as bright and bubbly as ever, and excited to see all his favorites bouncing on his toes from one to the next.
Maeve rolled her eyes as he shook Mal’s hand for well over a minute.
Maeve was included in the “The Humm Birds” as they called Hummingdoor’s favorite’s, but everyone knew the Potions and Alchemy Professor fancied Mal the most.
Th Alchemy Chamber was lined with a dense haze of smoke early that morning, as Maeve batted her way to the workstation.
There was no time wasted. The class got straight to work on brewing a set of Shrinking and Enlarging set of potions. They worked silently for the entirety of the class.
On her way to the supply closet to retrieve more bat fangs, she passed by Malachite, who was working calmly over his perfect looking potion.
Once finished, Maeve’s potion awarded her a strained smile from Hummingdoor with encouragement to do better.
Mal was awarded a grand clap on the shoulder and a star for Serpentine.
A star was used as a points system for competition between students and their Courts.
No doubt Mal had received the first one of the year, given that it had only been a hour.
Draconem Court was notorious for abusing the merit and demerit system.
The last few students were exiting the classroom as Maeve made her way to Hummingdoor’s desk.
“Professor, may I have a moment?”
“Of course, Miss Sinclair! Trust you had a good summer?”
“Always. Though, glad to be back at Vaukore, Sir,” said Maeve with a smile.
He smiled back, as though he understood the sentiment completely.
“So,” started Hummingdoor. “Is it safe to assume you are not satisfied with your Alchemy grade in last terms exams?”
“Correct,” said Maeve, her voice businesslike.
“Also safe to assume you’re looking to be tutored in preparation for your final exams?” The Professor spoke as though he was solving some great mystery, and was rather proud of himself for solving it.
“Also correct. I’ve never had to be tutored in anything, Professor. I have to admit, it feels a bit embarrassing just having this conversation.”
“That’s nonsense!” He laughed heartily as he rearranged random papers on his desk, “with a little guidance you’ll be performing better in no time.”
Maeve smiled slightly. “Thank you, sir.”
“See? Not so grim as you make it.” He squinted.
“I suppose so,” said Maeve. She gathered her bag and started to stand, prepared to ask Hummingdoor when their lessons would begin.
“Marvelous,” said Hummingdoor. “I’ll talk to Mr. Peur myself.”
Maeve’s heart stopped as she clutched her bag tightly. “I’m sorry?”
“Malachite. I’ll talk to Mr. Puer-”
“No sir, I heard you,” began Maeve. “I just meant. . . does it have to be him?”
Hummingdoor laughed loudly, the sound bubbling out of him. It did not comfort Maeve.
“Pride is a dangerous emotion, Miss Sinclair. And not of a Volaticus at all.” He smiled wisely and stood at his desk, leaning over as though he was about to tell her a secret.
“He’s the best in class, best in the school really.
Tutors many other as well! Seems like the right choice, hmm?
You begin tonight, yes?” He raised a finger in the air. “No time such as the present!”
He turned his back and began rummaging through some drawers.
With a heavy sigh, Maeve took her cue to leave.
The rest of her classes were as expected. In Healing Class, Violet Bentson hounded Maeve about why she was in bed so early last night and how she was never any fun anymore.
“I have plenty of fun,” said Maeve.
“No,” said Violet, her voice sharp. “All you care about is school now. I didn’t see you all summer, and you went straight to bed last night!”
Maeve pretended to be intensely reading a section of her textbook to avoid conversing with Violet.
“And it’s not like I get invited to see you over the summers, as if your family’s mansion doesn’t have guest quarters. . .” she continued babbling, but Maeve’s thoughts were elsewhere. She was too busy dreading having Malachite tutor her.
At seven o’clock sharp, Maeve waited in the far corner of the library, drumming her fingers on the table. She resented Professor Hummingdoor for forcing Malachite upon her.
Mal arrived not a minute late. Maeve watched him stride between two tall bookshelves towards her. His dark hair was pushed back, perfectly in place.
“Good evening, Sinclair,” said Mal, politely.
“I asked for anyone but you.”
“There’s no one better than me,” he said without bothering to look at her.
Maeve watched him set out his parchment and books.
“Wonderful,” she said with a slight grimace.
“It is true you performed on an Elite level for Charms last year? That is, to say, beyond a fourth-year level as just a second-year student?” Asked Mal without missing a beat.
“Yes,” replied Maeve, lazily.
“And that you spent the summer working on the Committee on Experimental Charms at the Orator’s Office?”
Maeve paused for a moment.
“Yes,” she answered hesitantly, surprised by his questions. No one outside of the school Professors, and a few jealous and nosey students, knew about that.
“Because you created a new memory charm last term? With Headmaster Rowan?”
“Rowan can barely take credit for that and I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I had a biography published,” laughed Maeve.
Malachite’s famously charming smile appeared. His silence told her he wasn’t continuing without an answer.
“Yes,” said Maeve, laying into her answer. She opened her Alchemy book.
“I’m sure Rowan made sure you had that opportunity at The Orator’s Office then,” said Mal, turning the pages of his potions book as his smile faded.
Maeve picked up on a change in his tone.
“Actually,” she started, “my father did. He’s very close to Orator Moon.”
“Now you’re bragging,” smirked Mal.
“Wouldn’t you?”
His face hardened. Maeve immediately knew she had stuck a nerve. Mal didn’t have parent’s to brag about. Likely sensing she was about to apologize, Mal spoke before she had the chance.
“Well, according to your Alchemy scores you have nothing to brag about. Let’s get started, shall we?”
Maeve didn’t object.
The next morning at breakfast, she was reading her first edition of “A Witches Guide to a Modern World” by Evelyn Starbound (a gift from her father) when a flash of bright blonde hair appeared by her side.
“So,” began the musical voice that belonged to none other than Abraxas, “am I to understand that the one and only Maeve Sinclair has actually stooped to being tutored?”
He gave a dramatic shiver.
“Shut up, Mr. Rosethorn,” said Maeve plainly, taking a bite of her toast.
“Oh, resorting to formalities. You do know how to wound me.”
Maeve smiled at him from the corner of her eye.
Abraxas had been her friend since they were children.
In fact, Maeve couldn’t remember a time that they hadn’t gotten along perfectly.
This was partly due to Abraxas being Maeve’s cousin, as her Mother, Clarissa, was a former Rosethorn.
Abraxas had been just as sour as Maeve when she wound up in a different court, but forgave her shortly into their first year at Vaukore.
In fact, all of Maeve’s childhood friends were given a place in Serpentine.
Maeve, Abraxas, and a number of other students at Vaukore, belonged to the Sacred Seventeen, which were the only pureblooded Magical families left on record.
Three centuries ago forty nine Magical dynasties fled to Earth for protection from their home realm.
Now only seventeen remained. And their Magic had seeped into this new world, presenting an entire new generation of Magical bloodlines.
“How did you know?” Maeve asked.
“Oh, well I personally knew you’d be desperate-”
Maeve shot him a glare.
“-when you scored anything other than perfect on on your Alchemy exam,” said Abraxas.
“However. . .” Abraxas pulled his lips together tightly.
“Mal was quite pleased to see you, the second best-those are his words not mine!” Abraxas was practically giddy as he continued, “to see you, needing his help.”
Maeve closed her eyes in frustration.
“Bet Ariana would have a hay-day with such juicy information,” said Abraxas quickly.
Maeve grabbed her book and smacked him on the arm, laughing. Her older and very successful sister would love any blow she could give Maeve.
“Don’t you dare!” She gasped.
Maeve and Abraxas walked together to Summoning and Enchanting, where Professor Harquinton was already seated behind her desk. She wore a very stylish pantsuit, which Maeve recognized from a store called Witch’s Wears in London.
“Ms. Sinclair, Mr. Rosethorn,” said Harquinton curtly as they took seats next to one another.
“Good summer, Professor?” Asked Abraxas.
Harquinton gave Abraxas a small nod and greeted two other students that entered the room. Maeve’s mind drifted back to the nauseating idea that Malachite Peur was gloating her failures to all of the school.
She glowered at him as he entered the room a moment later. Mal didn’t even look their way, he was too busy enchanting Professor Harquinton.
“He’s so full of himself,” whispered Maeve.
“So are you,” said Abraxas.
She frowned at this, but found it difficult to argue. Professor Harquinton didn’t hesitate to begin preparing the class for the “next hurtle in their magical career journey.” The exams that dictated their magical careers were still two years away, but the time to prepare was now.
It seemed every other Professor shared Harquinton’s sentiment. By the weekend Maeve already knew she’d be spending every second of it in the library. Her scheduled tutoring with Mal was set for Saturday morning, and needed a few hours dedicated to it alone.
When their Defensive Magic class came, Headmaster Rowan was seated behind his desk in maroon and silver velvet robes. His feet were propped on the luxurious wooden desk, exposing his silver boots.
“Maeve,” he said without a smile. “Wonderful to see you. How did the summer go?”