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Thorne
Thorne took his time heading to the dining hall for dinner. He didn't care too much if he was late. He could always get some food from the kitchens later, so why rush? Now if only he could explain that to the blonde girl frantically running around the corner.
"Cress, slow down!" Thorne called after her jokingly, "This isn't Flying class, you don't have to pretend you're riding a Firebolt."
Cress whirled around to face him, her face flushed red from running. "But I'm going to be late for dinner!"
Thorne waved away her concern. "No need to worry, I'll show you how to get to the kitchens. The house elves down there are more than happy to prepare you a fresh meal."
"But won't I get in trouble?" Cress whimpered.
Thorne barked with laughter. "Cress, this school couldn't care less if its student's starved to death! You'll be fine, so slow down."
She didn't look entirely convinced by his logic, but Cress obliged, slowing her pace so that she was walking beside him.
"So, still acing all your classes?" Thorne asked with a grin.
Cress rubbed her arm self-consciously. "I'm not that good-"
"Pfft, and I'm a model student. Come on Cress, you're the smartest girl in our year, if not the whole school!"
Cress's flushed cheeks had been slowly turning to a more natural shade, but now they turned bright red all over again. For some reason, this made Thorne's grin widen further.
Clearing her throat, Cress hastily changed the subject. "Have you seen Professor Mira lately?"
"No, thank Merlin."
"I've only seen her at the staff table during mealtimes. You know, she didn't take any of her classes on Friday? Maybe she's working on some sort of new project for the headmistress…"
"Mm, yes, I supposed that's a possibility." Thorne pretended to muse.
Evidently, he didn't do a very good job of it since Cress immediately fixed him with a shrewd look. "You wouldn't happen to know why, would you Thorne?"
He stared at her, eyes ridiculously wide. "What, who, me? Why Cress, why would I know anything?"
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Well then, could you hazard a guess?"
"Sure, just as soon as we've gone inside the Great Hall." Thorne replied, gesturing to the oak double doors ahead of them. He threw a mischievous grin at Cress. "Something tells me I'll get a pretty good clue once we're inside."
Thorne stepped into the Great Hall, but didn't saunter over to the Gold table like usual. Instead, he loitered by the doorway, glancing around casually.
Cress stood next to him, her large blue eyes glittering with curiosity and apprehension.
Thorne winked at her and pulled out his wand. His gaze swept over the staff table, finally landing on Professor Mira.
If she was watching, her only warning would be a wicked grin.
Thorne aimed his wand squarely at Professor Mira, closing one eye for show, and whispered, "Accio wig."
A mop of shiny black hair flew into his hand. A few students turned their heads to watch the strange anomaly, but what really caused the triumphant smirk to appear on Thorne's face was the horrified shriek at the staff table.
As one entity, the students turned around to see what the commotion was about. Some of them had to lean back in their seats to get a clear view. And, Thorne mused, what a view it was.
Sybil Mira's honeyed skin had turned sickly pale, and her long fingers were pressed against her scalp, desperately trying to hide the naked skin.
"Nice haircut Professor!" Thorne yelled up at her, "How do I contact the barber?"
A smattering of laughter rolled through the hall, though it was quickly replaced by deathly silence when the veiled figure of the headmistress stood up.
"Carswell Thorne." Her voice carried effortlessly over to Thorne's end of the hall. "Please come with me to my office."
Beside him, Cress gasped in horror. Thorne himself could feel the blood drain away from his face, but he called up his signature grin and stooped low in a mocking bow. "As you wish my queen." He said in a smarmy voice.
On the way to Levana's office, Thorne made a conscious effort to walk with a confident swagger. He didn't want the headmistress to know just how afraid he was.
This wasn't the first time Thorne had been summoned to her office, and it probably wouldn't be the last, but every visit always ended with a trip to the dungeons. Thorne had to suppress a shudder at the thought of spending any more time in those dark cells.
They came to a stop in front of a large, silver model of the moon sitting in an archway. Levana reached out with one ivory skinned hand and pressed her fingers to the model's surface. The metal rippled and shifted, spreading out to form a hole just big enough to let Levana through. On the other side of the hole was an endlessly long glass bridge leading up to a tower constructed of shiny, reflective stuff.
As he stepped through the entrance, Thorne squinted and shaded his eyes at the intense light the tower was throwing in all directions. Levana, seemingly unaffected by the glare of her office tower, strode confidently along the glass bridge.
Hesitating, Thorne looked back at the entrance. Maybe it was still open. Maybe he could escape and delay his fate, at least for a little while. But he was just found himself staring at a sheer white wall. For once, Carswell Thorne was out of luck.
The door to the tower swung open in front of Levana, and Thorne reluctantly followed in her regal strides. The walls of Levana's office were polished black regolith, and the plush red carpet noticeably sank underneath his weight. An ivory desk stood at the far end of the room, intricately carved in the shape of a giant wolf standing on all fours, its powerful head dipped in submission. On one end of the desk was a faceless marble bust. Levana lifted her hands to her veil and, with a deliberate slowness, lifted it from her head, placing it on the bust.
Now, Thorne had a clear view of her face. Or what she wanted him to think was her face at least. You could never tell with lunars.
Long, shiny auburn curls spilled elegantly over her shoulders down her back. Her onyx eyes glittered at Thorne coldly, and her blood-red lips curled into a smile.
The smile was enough to make Thorne cringe.
"Carswell Thorne," she hummed. Her voice seemed to drip into his ears like poisoned honey. "What am I to do with you?"
"You could let me go punishment-free?" Thorne suggested.
Levana laughed. "I'm afraid you don't get a say in the matter Carswell."
He shrugged. "Can't blame a guy for trying."
Levana walked around her desk and set herself down on an elegant ebony chair. "You have been responsible for many instances of disregard towards school rules Carswell, but deliberately targeting a staff member?" she clucked her tongue, shaking her head in what Thorne was certain was mock disappointment. "Clearly your rebelliousness was worse than I thought."
Somehow, Thorne managed to muster up a lopsided grin. "Well, let that be a lesson to you: never underestimate me."
Levana didn't even spare him a glance. "Normally, I would punish this insurrection with a sentence to the lower levels of the dungeons, but you've proven that this has no effect." In one smooth movement, Levana picked up the shiny ivory rod resting on her desk. "So, it seems that I must take some more… drastic measures."
Thorne took an instinctive step back, eying the wand in Levana's hand as the tip levelled itself towards his face. For the first time, Levana's smile reached her eyes.
A cloud of smoky darkness spewed from the tip of the wand, growing greater and greater, until that was all Thorne could see: complete and utter darkness.
Somewhere in the darkness, Levana's satisfied voice said, "I believe this will curb your rebellious habits."
A/N: FINALLY, FINALLY WE OFFICIALLY MEET LEVANA! AFTER 28 CHAPTERS OF HEARING ABOUT HER, FINALLY WE MEET HER!
Thorne has finally exacted his revenge on Sybil, but it came with a new punishment. What exactly did Levana do to Thorne? Will his spirit finally be crushed by this new punishment?
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