All in all, things were running rather smoothly at the American wizarding school of Ilvermorny. It was near the beginning of the year, and Wampus was already leading with the most House Points so far—102. As usual, Thunderbird was trailing at the end with only 74. Despite this, most members of the Ilvermorny houses were getting along well.
But of course, there were always the squabbles.
The squabbles seemed to be started by one student in particular; a sixth-year named Chase Duran. Chase had shoulder-length wavy black hair that he often tied back in a short, messy ponytail. His eyes were a ridiculous shade of light violet, and he was one of the three Specials that went to Ilvermorny—meaning that he could perform magic without a wand. He hadn't quite mastered it yet, though, so whenever he cast a spell, purple sparks danced across his hands and around his slender fingers.
Chase wore the gold-and-red-trimmed white robes of the Thunderbird house, with a Gordian Knot on his chest to fasten his robes; but at the moment, the brooch was unclasped as he argued with another student. Thunderbird was said to favor adventurers, and Chase was certainly adventurous—with most of the girls and at least half of the boys in Ilvermorny.
He took school seriously, though, earning some of the best grades in his year despite being absent for quite a few of his classes (he loved pranking his fellow students). He had a line of achievement badges down the sleeve of his right arm, including one for training his falcon, Ople. (While Hogwarts, in Scotland, preferred owls as means to deliver letters, there was an even mix of all sorts of raptors at Ilvermorny.)
Around Chase's neck, a gold ring hung, intricately woven out of tiny, thorned gold threads. A delicately carved silver knife was hidden beneath his robes in its worn leather scabbard, just waiting to be pulled out if the need arose. Ilvermorny didn't allow weapons out of the weapons room and training area, but then, Chase had never been one to follow the rules. He was the troublemaker of Ilvermorny school, and everyone loved him.
Of course, there could be a little more love going around right now, Nicolas Reldai thought as he leaned against a granite wall, watching as Chase smirked at a Wampus seventh-year.
Nicolas Reldai—known as Nic to his friends—was in his seventh year at Ilvermorny and a prefect of Wampus house.
"It was your stupid falcon that delivered that love potion to Amanda Greene, don't deny it," the Wampus snapped. His name was Terrance Carlysle, and he wasn't terribly popular amongst his house; he was seen as a brute and a bully. Nic loathed him feverously, and he told himself that was why he was here—to watch him getting taken down a peg—not because he wanted an excuse to stare at Chase's lithe figure.
Nic might have hated his fellow Wampus, but he took great pride in his black-and-red-trimmed yellow robes of Wampus House. When he'd first stepped into Ilvermorny to be sorted, three houses wanted him: Horned Serpent, Wampus, and Pukwudgie. Nic had chosen Wampus. Wampus favored warriors, and even though Nic wasn't particularly muscular or bulky, he knew a slew of spells that even some teachers didn't know. He was also a Special, like Chase, but he was a whole lot better at controlling his magic. He'd chosen Wampus as his house because he loved the strategy of fighting.
"Ople was in the aviary at the time," Chase said smugly. "She couldn't possibly have given that potion to Greene." He cocked his head. "It's not like you had any qualms about it. From what I heard, you had quite the night after the sun went down. I guess she liked all those Wampus muscles?" Chase waggled his eyebrows and several people in the gathering crowd snickered. Carlysle turned scarlet and whirled around, furious. The offenders were hidden in a sea of gathering faces, so he whipped back around to face Chase and took a threatening step forward, taking out his wand. Chase stayed where he was.
Fool, Nic thought. Several strands of black hair had escaped Chase's ponytail and scraggled down the side of his face.
"How do you know where the Wampus Common Room is?" he growled.
Chase looked almost injured and Nic fought the urge to laugh.
"It's not like I'm the one that has trouble finding someone to get a little friendly with," he said. He posed thoughtfully for a moment, then snapped his fingers as if realizing something. "It must be your brain," he said. "Too much of it is taken up with violence. We get rid of the violence, and get you laid more, and—"
Carlysle snarled and stepped forward so they were chest-to-chest. "You listen here—"
"What's going on?" Professor Blackfoot, who taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, breezed around the corner. With a flick of her wand, Carlysle's went flying back into his robes and tucked itself back into his sash.
Professor Blackfoot wore the cranberry and blue robes of Ilvermorny. Her long, white-streaked black hair was twisted up into a complicated bun and her dark eyebrows on her bronze face were raised. Professor Blackfoot was a Lakota Native American from South Dakota and had come to teach at Ilvermorny after retiring as an Auror. Her real name was Samantha Jones, but she'd changed it to honor her grandfather's passing.
"Well?" Professor Blackfoot asked.
"I've done absolutely nothing wrong, Professor," Chase said innocently, raising his hands.
"Duran, I think all of us watching can agree that when you're involved, you've always done something," Professor Blackfoot said sternly, but not unkindly. She probably had a special spot for Chase. All the teachers did. If there was an award for "favorite student," Chase probably would've won it already. Even if he wasn't the most popular student in Ilvermorny (he was) he would've won it anyway—Chase was more competitive than the Horned Serpent Quiddich captain. And that was saying a lot.
"Yes he has," Carlysle growled, ignoring the teacher and glaring at Chase. "He found out that I fancy Amanda and slipped her a love potion."
Nic watched as Chase tried to keep a straight face, failing miserably.
"Is this true, Duran?" Professor Blackfoot asked. Her strict face said that any lie would be punished with a detention—or several.
"Ma'am, I was just helping them out," Chase said, spreading his fingers wide, a consoling look on his face. "Something needed to be done. One couldn't've cut the sexual tension between them with a hacksaw."
"Regardless," Professor Blackfoot said crisply, "you know that love potions are not allowed in school. We can discuss this after school in my office when you have detention, Duran." She raised an eyebrow. "Clear?"
Chase nodded angelically, eyes wide. "Crystal, Professor."
"Just one?" Carlysle whined. The teacher turned a stony glare on him.
"Unless you'd like to join him for two, Carlysle, I suggest you do not complain," she said. "I do not tolerate people who threaten others, even if they are not in my House." Professor Blackfoot was the head of House Thunderbird and in charge of all of the students in it. Of course, she could always assign detentions to other students.
Professor Blackfoot looked around at the gathered students. "Don't you have somewhere to be? Classes start in three minutes," she said to them. "I suggest you get going unless you want to be late and lose House points."
The younger students scurried off quickly, the older ones meandering lazily up the stairs, as they already knew shortcuts through the castle. Carlysle tossed one last insult Chase's way and stalked off in a huff.
"I thought you would be more mature then that, Duran," Professor Blackfoot said, looking down at the student. "You need to set an example for the younger students."
Chase hung his head. "Sorry, Professor."
She nodded curtly. "Get along to class." She spun on her heel and clattered up the nearby staircase. Chase watched her go, and Nic watched Chase.
Chase spun around, robes flying, to walk down the corridor and came face-to-face with Nic, who had pushed off the wall. Or, more accurately, face-to-neck because Nic was just this much taller than him.
"Skipping class again, Duran?" Nic asked archly. "If I recall correctly, Transfiguration is that way." He jerked his chin the other way down the hall.
"I'm honored," Chase said, grinning. "You know my schedule." He smirked and sauntered past Nic, who turned to watch him. "You don't have class, Reldai?"
"Open hour," Nic replied. "But unlike you, I do not make it a habit to skip my classes."
"Well, where's the fun in that?" Pausing at a doorway, Chase winked, smirked, and tipped an imaginary hat at Nic before disappearing down another corridor.
Cheeky fool, Nic thought. Cheeky, charming fool. There was a reason Chase's bed was never empty.