Chapter 1: Grievous News

Glock Gringamore Grummersome, Head Wizard of the Academy of Physiks and Magiks for Young Wizards of the Future, stood with his hands on his hips, turning to face his owl familiar, Calendar, who was perched on the back of a couch, cleaning his feathers innocently. The wizard leaned forward, his hat tipping dangerously low. "Calendar, where did you put my wand???" he screeched. Calendar turned his head all the way around and glared at the wizard, who returned the glower over his gold-rimmed spectacles, which were perched on the end of his thin nose.

"How should I know?" the owl insisted. "You're forever misplacing it. Did you look between the seat cushions? After all, that's where it was last time you lost it."

"I looked between the seat cushions, and under the chair, I even looked in the flower vase," he waved his hand to indicate a broken glass vase lying on the floor, its wilted roses floating in a puddle of water. "it's nowhere to be seen! And I know you took it!"

"What would I want with that old thing?" the owl sniffed. "It's just as likely to do more harm to the wielder than it is the target."

"If you don't tell me where my wand is right this very second, I'll-"

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in!" Glock called, shooting his familiar a look that promised he would get back to him later. Calendar rolled his eyes and flew up to his perch, his eyes on the door as Glock hurried to open it. In the doorway stood a flamboyantly dressed figure.

"HESTER!" Glock cried happily, embracing the figure in the doorway, which happened to be a fellow wizard, perhaps a few years old than Glock himself, (and that is a respectably old age, I do assure you).

"Glock!" Hester stumbled back slightly at the force of his brother's hug, his purple velvet robes causing him to almost fall face-first into the dirt. "It's so good to see you, alas!" his face was grim. "I come bearing most ill tidings!"

"What ill tidings, brother?" Glock inquired as he led his brother until the house, shutting the door with some difficulty.

"Alas, alas," Hester wept, wiping away tears of most genuine sorrow on the edge of his sleeve. "our father has died!"

"My wand!" Glock exclaimed happily, brandishing his wand in triumph. "I remember now! I used it as a doorstop!"

"Brother! Have you no tears for our poor father?" Hester demanded in angry astonishment.

"What?" Glock looked up. "Oh, well, yes, I suppose. I'm sad he had to die and all that, but he was rather old..."

"A respectable age!" Hester insisted through his tears. "He lived to see the great Fall, and the new Age..."

"Did he leave us in his will, do you think?" Glock wondered aloud.

"You think he did?" Hester brightened considerably. "Well, of course he did! We were his beloved sons, were we not? I could use some new robes..." he smoothed out the front of his current attire as he spoke, a small smile on his face.

"Where's the funeral going to be held?" Glock asked, stashing his wand in his sleeve.

"Ah, yes, the funeral," Hester remembered he was supposed to be grieving. "mother has left the arrangements up to us. She is too aggrieved to make any important decisions."

"Really?" Glock exclaimed. "We get to plan the funeral ... and everything?"

Hester nodded solemnly.

"Oh, gods," Calendar muttered under his breath. "their poor father."