a/n one: hello! i am back once more with another chapter! i am so sorry that it isn't as long as the first, but unfortunately, this chapter was short because it had to be-that and it refused to be any longer, alas. the next chapter will be much longer as the first years will be taken into town, to get their supplies. also: next chapter we will meet baz! oh hohoho. but, enough of me rambling. i have a head canon to explain at the bottom, and you have a chapter to read. hehe!


the mage's heir: two


The Welcome Feast was enormous, and there were so many students, seated around tables, laughing and joking around with ease. Simon's heart leapt a little, and thudded loudly in his chest. Dinners at the orphanage had never quite had that large of a sense of family, or belonging, despite the fact that Simon had grown up there. At the orphanage, there was only a sense of alliance, rather than a family of orphans/misfits. In Hyde's State, you looked out for people like yourself, and kept your head down. It had been rough like that. Rubbing the gritty plaster that stuck atop the ugly green-yellow bruise on his left cheek, Simon stared out at the cafeteria where the Welcome Feast was held. Watford's wasn't a place where you had to keep your head down, but rather you could hold it high, and not gain a black eye for doing so. The blond realized this with a painful thud, and he looked up at the Mage tentatively.

"Go on then," the magician urged, slipping his calloused hand from Simon's grip, pushing the boy forward gently. "Go find a table Simon. Go make some new friends." He gave Simon one last gentle smile, and swept away to the staff table stationed towards the front of the dining hall. The nervous boy watched as the Mage left, then took another long look around the hall. There, he thought, in the corner. There was a small table in the corner of the hall, half-empty, and secluded. It seemed perfect to Simon, who was still thinking as if he was in Hyde's State, trying to hide from boys that were three times his size.

"Can I sit here?" He asked, gesturing to an empty seat. Six sets of eyes slid onto Simon, and one of the boys fell off of his chair.

"Bloody hell!" He exclaimed, panting. "We didn't quite see you there, mate. Take a seat."

Simon slid into a seat. "Thank you," he said, staring around the hall.

The elder boy smiled roguishly. "It isn't a problem. I'm William Totter, eighth year. You are?"

The golden haired boy smiled tentatively back. "I'm Simon. Simon Snow."

There was a resonant gasp that rippled through the few people sitting at the table. "The Mage's Heir?"

"That's not possible!"

"I thought that was just a myth!"

"Well obviously not, fucktard."

"Marlene! Language!"

William smiled over at the confused ten-year old, and clasped his shoulder. "Sorry about them, they're rather confused. It really isn't everyday that you meet the Mage's Heir."

Simon laughed nervously, mussing his hair. "What is, the Mage's Heir anyways?" The ten-year old tried to keep his growing irritation, about the murmuring students at the corner table show through his tone. William's brow furrowed, and Simon supposed that it must have shown through, or William was rather perceptive.

The red-head smiled gently, and clasped his hands underneath his chin. "The Mage's Heir is, as the prophecies say, the greatest magician of our time. He is the only person capable of defeating the Insidious Humdrum, and wielding the weapon known as the Sword of Mages."

Simon thinks how cool it must be to wield a sword. It must be pretty cool, right?

William gestures to the table, which has various dishes piled onto it. "Well, you must be famished. Watford does make the best food, so dig in."

He scoops a spoonful of mashed potatoes onto Simon's plate, then turns back to his own. Thanking William quietly, Simon nicks a few sandwiches from the platter underneath a thickset boy with the squarest chin he's ever seen.

After eating a sandwich and some of the potatoes, Simon can agree with William. Watford does have some of the best food Simon has ever tasted. It's better than lumpy porridge and split pea soup, if anything.

There's a large commotion up in the front of the hall, and if Simon stood atop his chair-which a mousy girl named Talia was advising him against-he can just barely make out the Mage, shooting sparks from his wand, trying to call everyone's attention. "Yes, yes!" The Mage laughed wryly, as the hall finally elapsed into silence. "Well, I welcome all of our students, both old, and new to another year at Watford Academy of Magick!" The platinum blond man allows the hall to burst into cheers and noise once more, before shooting sparks from his wand with a spell Simon cannot hear from the corner table. "Yes, but there is one more anouncement." The Mage clears his throat. "This year, amongst us, we have our prophesied Mage's Heir. Simon, if you would please, my boy?" The entire hall bursts into whispers that do not sound like whispers, but feel like screams. The entire population seated at the corner table with Simon turns and faces the boy with the golden mane.

He can feel his ears flushing red, and the apples of his cheeks burning as well. Stepping down from the wooden chair, Simon ducks and weaves throughout the caf, emerging beside the Mage. The man rests a large, warm hand on Simon's sloping shoulder. "I welcome you, Simon Snow."

The whispers become screams, and half of Simon wants to hide, but the other half wins out, and he keeps his ocean blue gaze straight ahead, staring at everything and nothing at once.

"It can't be!"

"That scrawny kid is the Mage's Heir?"

"Yeah right. He'll be killed in seconds."

"As if the Sword of Mages would accept a weakling like that."

Simon turns red again, and looks away from the hall, his gaze darting uneasily. It catches on thin, slanted, almond-shaped gray eyes, with eyebrows that look they were drawn on their owner's face. The boy-he looks like he must be Simon's age-smirks, and nods slightly.

Ocean blue dart away again, and Simon searches the Mage's face for an answer to a question he doesn't quite know yet.

The Mage's smile is apologetic, and he clasps Simon's shoulder tighter. Simon feels a little more at ease, and the anger bubbling just beneath the surface begins to calm.

"Quiet down!" The Headmaster bellows the spell, and the entire hall falls silent. "Speak now." The white-blond haired man mutters the counterspell, and the entire hall stays silent still, no one willing to test the Mage again. "Now, then. 8th Year prefects, if you would?" Four students stand up from their seats in the caf, and Simon can catch the glint of silver badges pinned to clothing, or in one prefect's case, in her mousy brown hair, holding it back. The ten year old feels like laughing at this, and he hides his giggles behind a small hand. "First Years, please, do follow these lovely young ladies and men that have gathered at the entrance to the cafeteria. They will lead you to the Crucible, which will tell you your room. As for the rest of you," the Mage had shooed Simon off to gather with the rest of the First Years, many which were staring at Simon with wide eyes. "As for the rest of our lovely students, please begin to make your way off to your rooms. Tomorrow may be an off day, but please do not retire too late! Dorm mothers and fathers will be checking to see if anyone is out past curfew, and detention will be handed out if you are caught!" The Mage winked to the crowd of students. "If you are to sneak out, take great pains not to get caught, hm?"

There was an exasperated call from the Professor's Table, from a tall professor with jade green eyes, and bright red hair. "Headmaster! Do not encourage this!"

The Mage laughed gaily. "Ah, Professor Almstedt, a little mischief does no harm to anyone."

Professor Almstedt sighed, and ran a dark hand through his long hair. "It does harm if the students think that their own Headmaster is encouraging such behaviour."

Turning back to the students, the Mage continued, "As such, please do not sneak out past curfew in the first place. Now," he clapped his hands. "Off all of you go. We will see each other once more in the morning."

The prefect at the front of the horde of First Years clapped her hands as well. "Now, First Years, if you would please follow us." She began to lead them down the numerous halls of Watford, until she pushed open a gilded door, to reveal a maroon and golden book upon a modest wooden pedestal in the center of the room. "We will call out your names in alphabetical order. Do not share your room number with anyone else until the next day, please," she cleared her throat. "Aalto, Damien."

The names flew over Simon's head like birds, until he heard his name called, followed by the whispers, which were become sadly familiar. Head bowed, and hands stuck in his denim's pockets, Simon trudged up to the pedestal, and looked down at the cracked and yellowed pages of the Crucible.

Snow, Simon

Laurel Dorm, Room 84

Chanting the words over and over in his mind, Simon left the way he came, and followed the signs into the Laurel Dorm. Greeting the dorm mother, a portly woman with graying jet-black hair, and sparkling hazel eyes, Simon flew up the spiral staircase, so much like the one back at the orphanage.

He was not happy with the sight he saw upon entering the hallway with room 84.


a/n two: ahh i hate that it is so short, and i am sorry that it is! an oc i have introduced within this chapter that will appear many times is professor lucas almstedt. he's a rude, sarcastic person/the english professor, and a dueling champion. i like him, hehe!

ah, anyways. i have a head canon on the main four's ethnic origins, so please hear me out!

simon: norwegian, from the mage (because it is obvious that they are father/son as levi says), with some french and russian from his mother. (i thought of strong jawlines, blond and brown hair, as well as pretty blue eyes) i think if you mixed the mage's platinum hair, and as i see simon's mom with a sort of dirty blonde hair that is more of a caramel than actual blonde, you would get simon's gold mane. (ahaha sounds like a lion hehe) i call simon's mother's ami (ami means saturday's child in french)in my head, and i also have no idea about the mage's actual hair, but i also thought of a punnet square, and how if any of them had any color darker than a light brown, simon wouldn't have his golden hair, so hm.

baz: i feel that baz would have some asian blood within him. not because of his brain ahaha, because that would be racist-but i am korean haha-but because of how his looks are described, he always looks distinctly asian in my mind. so his father would be a korean/chinese mix, whereas his mother would be dutch/english. her eyes would be a smokey gray, that when mixed with his father's dark brown eyes would be a dark, charcoal-like gray. i called his parents tai yang (sun in chinese) and elise (promise of god in dutch) as for baz, i feel like pitch would be a translation of his last name, which would be li, which means dark in chinese, hence pitch. also, as every child in asia that comes to america has an asian name and an american name, i think that hui would be baz's chinese name (his father grew up in china, or singapore to be specific) hui means intelligent. so baz's full name would be tyrannus hui basilton li/pitchner. lol what a mouthful!

penelope: straight up scottish and irish. her father is an irish man with the thickest, reddest beard ever, and it's very very curly! he has no freckles, but his eyes are a clear blue, and his skin is dark from sun. his name is casey, meaning alert in irish. her mother is gorgeous, with straight auburn hair that she keeps braided, and dark freckles like stars across her pale skin. penelope looks most like her mother, with her freckles, dark red hair, but she inherited her father's curly, untamable mane. penelope's mother's name is bree, which is also irish, as her mother is a scottish/irish mix, and bree means higher power. (penelope's mother basically runs the house. casey is a rather laid-back man, who works his best, but bree wears the pants haha) the ring she uses for was from her mother-penelope has three brothers, two older (17 and a prefect, as well as 14) and a younger brother, who will start at Watford in three years-but the ring is only passed onto the female magicians of the family.

agatha: whoooo mama. agatha is a fine lady hm? it's hard to believe that she isn't conceited, but i think she's a little conceited, lol. but NO AGATHA BASHING hm. welbelove isn't really a name that fits into any ethnicity. but with her looks, i think that a purebred french ancestry. her mother's name is alice, her father's anton. i don't have much to say about agatha, really.

as for the dorm: laurel is a tree that symbolizes ambition, success, and renown. i thought that it fit baz and simon's personalities pretty well.

well, that was long! and i would also like to say thank you to everyone who has reviewed, as well as told me what is off! please continue to critique my works and my english, because it isn't my first language.

please drop a review, follow/favorite, and continue to read! i will see you next update!

much love, jae-ha