When Aideen left the nurse's office, it was off to class midway through Monday. She knew now that she had plenty of time to catch up. Quodpot was only one activity— yet as Aideen checked her calendar, crossing off dates and scribbling in new ones, she realized how open her days were now. So much time had been devoted to Quodpot over all else.
But maybe, if we could prove the attack wasn't because of Quodpot, we could get it back, Aideen thought.
But what if it's true that dark wizards attacked me? she wondered. Could they be the same people that took Rionach?
Aideen's hands began to shake and she felt as if she were going to heave any minute. She looked up to where Professor Hastings was lecturing and raised her hand.
"Yes, Aideen?" Professor Hastings asked, bright and perky as she always was when a student raised their hand.
"I don't feel well," Aideen said. "Can I use the bathroom pass?"
"Yes," Professor Hastings said, her posture stiffening. "Next time, just take it."
"Sorry, Professor Hastings," Aideen mumbled as she ran for the door. Luckily, the bathroom was nearby.
This was supposed to be Rionach's first year at Ilvermorny. The last of the Graves-Scholts was supposed to finally join the crowd. Aideen remembered how excited Rionach was. She stole several of Aideen's textbooks to read up on everything— Aideen was so sure Rionach was going to go to Horned Serpent, not Wampus. She didn't mind— she'd support her sister, no matter what.
But then that one horrible day came, and Aideen remembered it all too well. She had gotten up early in the morning, late July, and was magicking up breakfast. Technically, they weren't supposed to be using magic, but it wasn't like she was doing it in front of No-Majes.
Besides, Aideen reasoned, she could use some practice with practical magic.
Rionach had come down the stairs precisely as the bacon was beginning to crisp up. Aideen had been too busy to say much other than a good morning. If Rionach had replied, Aideen never heard it. Rionach just disappeared. She just walked out the backyard, and the gate was left open.
Aideen finished cleaning up, and smoothed her cranberry uniform dress. The dresses were her favorite uniform pieces, over the simple skirts or pants. It made her feel a little more like a witch.
She grabbed her hat and cloak off of the hook in the bathroom stall, and hurried back to class, pass in hand. She hung it up and headed back to her seat. She felt Kyla Grimsditch's eyes on her, and glanced back at her.
Adele Owens, the prettiest girl in their dorm, was sitting next to Kyla, and was glaring down at Aideen.
Aideen frowned. Usually Adele was sweet, almost to a sickly level. Aideen didn't run in her circles, but she was never glaring at her.
Deeply unsettled, Aideen turned in her seat and focused on the lecture notes. It was better to throw herself into the past of the Founders of Ilvermorny. The origins were somewhat well-known, but the details had been eroded away from their legends over the years.
"Isolt and James had two twin daughters, Rionach and Martha," Hastings continued. "Rionach Steward was our first Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and her painting is the one that hangs over Professor Fairchild's desk. It has been with the school since Rionach's death. She rarely speaks, which is uncharacteristic of the historical figure, so many scholars have theorized that she has a purpose beyond expanding Rionach's legacy. What that purpose is, none have found concrete evidence."
Saga raised her hand almost immediately, and Hastings' face lit up. "Yes, Saga?"
"Isn't Professor Castellan the source of several of those papers?" Saga asked, her eyes doe-like and her expression almost too innocent.
Hastings pursed her full lips before continuing. "Unfortunately. However, I cannot comment on my colleagues' work due to staff code. Or divulge the research as I suspect you wish me to, Saga, because Professor Castellan is fairly irritable for a Pukwudgie and would prefer I not talk about her papers because she believes they should remain confidential."
"I see," Saga said, remaining doe-eyed and innocent. "Thank you for explaining, Professor Hastings."
Professor Hastings simply nodded and continued on with her lecture. When Professor Hastings turned her back to write something on the board, a note landed on the desk. Aideen unfolded it and sighed.
You have more time now. Join the Dragon-Eye Coven. You should feel so lucky.
Aideen bit her lip and scribbled down a response.
You do realize my sister doesn't want me in her territory, right?
Aideen folded it back up neatly, and it flew away on its own. Hastings turned around, and Aideen re-engrossed herself in her notes. She didn't see whose desk it had landed on.
"Martha Steward, however, is the most important of the two sisters," Hastings continued. "She had children with a man in the Potomuc tribe, and while those children did not practice magic, it is theorized amongst wizarding genealogists that there may be descendants of Isolt out there. Many genealogists are bothered with the question, and quite frankly, no one has come up with an actual link."
Saga's hand shot in the air.
"Yes, Saga?" Hastings asked brightly.
"Wouldn't they also be descendants of Salazar Slytherin, and related to that dark lord in England?" Saga asked.
"Yes. What's your point?" Hastings asked, leaning against her desk, looking curious as to where Saga was going to go with this.
"Why would people keep asking? I'd rather keep that stuff in the closet," Saga said with a shrug.
"Of course you would," Kyla Grimsditch muttered. "Traitor."
"Did you have something else to add, Kyla?" Hastings asked eagerly.
Saga glared at Kyla from across the lecture hall, as if daring her to say it.
"Well, Slytherin, for all of his faults was a great wizard," Kyla said. "I'd want to have that greatness in my blood."
"Yes, well, most likely none of you are his descendant," Hastings added hastily. "If anything, they're probably all no-mages in the Potumuc tribe. But back to actual history, just because Martha was a No-Maj like her father doesn't mean she didn't have important contributions to the school. For instance, the entrances into the towers were designed entirely by her, as well as the House common rooms and dormitories."
"Fascinating," Aideen muttered as she continued to fill in her notes. When Hastings turned the board again, a note landed on Aideen's desk, with a reply.
Your younger sister was just admitted.
Freya stormed to the circular table where Aideen was doing her homework, binders and notebooks and textbooks spread across the couch and table and even the floor.
"Why are you trying to get into the Dragon-Eye Coven?" Freya demanded.
"I wasn't," Aideen said, in as patient of a tone as she could manage. "One of your members has been recruiting me."
"Well, tell them to stop!" Freya ordered, jabbing her finger at Aideen's chest. "You've already got everything! You don't need to get into the Dragon-Eye Coven, too! That's the only thing that's mine!"
"Which is why you let Belle in?" The snide comment slipped out before Aideen realized she'd said it.
"That's different!" Freya hissed, realizing others were watching them. "Belle is also stuck in your shadow. I'm giving her a way out. Since you don't even try to make things easier for her."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Aideen looked up from her homework. She crossed her arms over her chest, to hide that she felt as if her heart were freezing, bracing for impact.
"Can't you just throw a competition or two?" Freya demanded. "Then maybe Mom might start paying attention to us again because her favorite is a failure again!"
"I'm sorry you feel that way," Aideen said, rising to her feet. "But I'm not throwing my successes just because Mom plays favorites. I have my future to think about."
"You're doing fine!" Freya shouted, throwing her hands up in the air. "You could just chill a little, and you'd still be fine! Everyone loves you, Mercy Lewis knows why!"
Something inside Aideen broke.
"I'm sorry you feel that way," Aideen said, as she fought to hold back the tears. "But I—"
She leapt over her books and ran up to her dormitory, and flopped onto her bed, in tears.