A/N: Hello. So, for anyone following this story previously you may have noticed that I deleted the following three chapters to the story that were part of my original attempt to author this story. I realized after posting the rewritten chapter one that any individuals reading the story would be highly confused if they were to read the following chapters, so I deleted them to avoid such discontinuity.
Other than that, I just wanted to say that I'm really excited to dive back into this story and here's chapter 2!
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"Margaret!" Nana called up the stairs. "Margaret!"
Margaret groaned slightly as she began to rustle in her bed, showing signs of wakefulness. She opened her bleary eyes and rose her head slightly before letting it thud back against her pillow.
"Margaret! You don't want to be late on your first day, do you?" Nana yelled up again. Margaret's eyes snapped open at the realization. She immediately threw off her covers and rocketed out of her room. Her feet pounded against the stairs as she raced down. She slid across the tiled floor into the kitchen, swiftly grabbing a plate of breakfast and seating herself before wolfing down the food.
"Now, Margaret, you are 16-years-ol—there she goes again," Wendy sighed to herself as Margaret had finished her plate completely and disappeared up the stairs. "How will I ever keep up with that child?"
Margaret sprinted back into her room, excitedly grabbing her uniform which she had laid out carefully the night before. She allowed herself a moment to take a bit of pride in the name the uniform bore: "Grim Preparatory School", the most prestigious school in London and only for London's finest students. And to think that she was one of them at all, let alone one of the select few students to join the school at 11, when students could first join. It was a high honor to be in the school at all, but joining at the start of secondary school held another level of prestige all on its own.
A light knock on her door interrupted her musings. Margaret looked over to see her Nana walk in wearing her eternally amused expression. "Taking a moment to admire your finery?"
"I don't think it is at all barmy to take some pride in my current position," Margaret replied jokingly. Nana patted her on the shoulder.
"Of course not. There are many individuals who would be lucky to have a fraction of your brains, including our politicians," Wendy joked. Margaret gasped before lightly poking her grandmother in the shoulder. At realizing her own lapse in mature demeanor, she quickly composed herself.
"I'll need to get dressed," Margaret said. Nana nodded and left the room, shutting the door. Margaret looked back at the school uniform. A white, long-sleeve, button-up shirt with a navy blue, plaid vest as well as a matching navy blue, plaid skirt and white stockings. There was a black tie laid neatly against the folded clothes along with white stockings next to her favorite pair of Mary Jane's. On the vest was the school symbol with the word "Cognitionis" underneath (knowledge in Latin). After a moment she changed into her uniform, swirling her hair into the immaculate bun that was characteristic of all the girls at Grim Prep. Then, she grabbed her school-issued messenger bag before climbing down the stairs and meeting Nana Wendy, who was holding out a brown, paper bag.
"I took the liberty of making your lunch for today. I know you take quite a bit of pride in doing so yourself; however, I figured you would allow me to this once," she said, stroking Margaret's hair. Margaret smiled gratefully at her grandmother before the two shared a hug before her departure. As Margaret walked through the yard to the front gate, she waved back at her grandmother, who was still watching from the window. Finally, Margaret was left to her own devices as she made the relatively timely walk to school.
At first, most of the streets were quite barren. Most of the London public schools didn't begin until the second week of September, which would be next week. Once public school started the streets would be flooded with hooligans riding their bikes dangerously down the street along with the screaming chaos that Margaret always found a particular distaste for. She was perfectly happy for the peace and quiet that came with the first week.
As she neared Grim Prep, she began to spot other serene figures walking with a purposeful but calm pace. All of them were converging towards Grim Prep. And if that weren't enough to identify them the distinct uniforms were a dead giveaway.
Finally, the school came into view. Margaret halted her steps to gather a good long look of the school she'd become so fond of during her years there. It's stately, grayed structure with symmetrical, sharp pillars and perfectly clean windows. The school name was engraved in marble at the entrance of the school. In the courtyard there was a bell that the principal would ring to mark the start of classes in the morning and the end of class in the afternoon, a tradition that was begin at the school's founding.
Gathering a breath of satisfaction, Margaret crossed the street toward the school, where a notable number of students were headed to enter the school. Margaret silently noted that she would need to grab her schedule quickly to avoid being late to her first class. As she approached the stairs to the entrance, a voice called out to her.
"Margaret?"
She looked over to the side to see Principal Nolan standing on the steps to ensure no chaos broke out amongst the students.
"Principal Nolan! It's wonderful to see you!" Margaret smiled. Principal Nolan smiled back at her kindly. He was a man of withered stature: snowy hair and seasoned eyes to boot, but his plump features betrayed an intuitive warmth to every individual he met. Though, don't be fooled, he was perfectly capable of instilling order when it was required.
"I'm very glad to see you back for another year. It's quite unfortunate that I won't have the pleasure of greeting you next year," he noted. Margaret nodded with a bittersweet expression on her face.
"I will miss Grim Prep greatly, but there's not sense in prolonging the inevitable: everyone must grow up!" She replied in both a playful but honest tone. Mr. Nolan chuckled at the statement. It was then that Margaret noticed a peculiar figure standing behind her principal.
Upon seeing Margaret's expression, Mr. Nolan looked back at the figure, suddenly contorting his face into a serious expression and coughing politely.
"Margaret, I would like to introduce you to Mr. Hook, he is the new English teacher for students in the 12th form," he introduced. Mr. Hook was a lanky man, with a sickly pale expression and long, flowing black hair. He wore a particularly manicured mustache on his face, with extended features protruding from his face in awkward positions.
"It…is very nice to meet you Mr. Hook," Margaret said in slow greeting, she held out her hand to shake Mr. Hook's. He looked her over for a moment before slowly reaching his own hand out and shaking hers uncertainly.
With that, Mr. Hook left the two of them without a word, walking into the school.
"Yes, uh, Mr. Hook is not from around here. He says he is from a remote island somewhere, though the name of it is far beyond me," Mr. Nolan said to Margaret. She gave a slow nod, unsure of how to feel about Mr. Hook. He felt…familiar somehow, but she knew perfectly well that she'd never met anyone like him before. He hadn't even offered a verbal greeting! She figured he wasn't trying to be rude, but he was not very skilled at allowing himself a rather amiable first impression.
"Well, I must prepare to ring the bell. I believe you have yet to grab your schedule? You should hurry and do so if you don't want to be late for class," Mr. Nolan advised. Margaret nodded and waved quickly in farewell as she scurried up the stairs and into the school.
!
"Where is he?" A girl in Margaret's English class asked anxiously. One of the boys in the class was standing in the doorway of the classroom searching the halls for their mysteriously disappeared teacher. There was one thing about all teachers at Grim Prep: they are all very, and I do mean very punctual.
"Maybe," Margaret began, smoothing down a stray strand of hair that threatened to cause anarchy in her appearance, "he is lost. After all, I don't believe that he has seen much of the school before today."
The rest of the class nodded their heads, all eager to find a plausible explanation for the strange absence of Mr. Hook. Suddenly, the boy in the doorway rushed back to his seat with a pale expression on his face. Margaret began to open her mouth to ask him if he'd fallen ill, but Mr. Hook boomed into the classroom before she could. Everyone in the class visibly stiffened upon his entrance.
"Take your seats now. If you're not in your seat I'll have to give you a suspension," Mr. Hook greeted in an aggressive and dry voice. Everyone made eye contact with one another at the statement, uncertain if he was joking or not.
"So, class rules. No making any noise whatsoever. No talking at all. Do not move at all unless you are writing—these are standard rules I'm certain you all understand?" He asked, writing down the other rules he neglected to mention on the board in the worst handwriting witnessed at Grim Prep. Another thing about Grim Prep teachers: their handwriting is near perfection.
"Yes," the class answered in unison, though a few of Margaret's peers allowed for tints of confusion to cloud their voices.
Mr. Hook stopped writing abruptly, turning around to give a threatening look. "It seems you did not understand me," he said, lifting up his left…hook. A few people gasped at seeing that a hook replaced the spot where his hand should have been. "What is rule #2?" He asked everyone. Everyone blinked in response, until a girl cleared her throat.
"No talking." She said. Mr. Hook stared at her for a moment before a twisted, sinister smile spread across his face as he approached her.
"I believe I have found the perfect specimen," he said in a low growl. Margaret's heart sped as she watched Mr. Hook walk over to the girl with a predatory demeanor. He grabbed the girl's ear and yanked her out of her chair. The girl at this point began crying and screamed at the action.
"QUIET!"
The girl continued to sob quietly, showing strain in keeping the fear she felt within her. Mr. Hook squatted down, playing with his hook and nearing the sharp point toward her neck. The rest of the class remained frozen in horror at the action, unable to react. The girl's eyes widened as the hook began to get too close. Before she could scream, Mr. Hook stopped, then retracted his arm after a moment.
"I could have done more. But I can't teach an individual who is dead, now can I?" He mused, taking obvious satisfaction in the wide-eyed expressions the class gave him. "It seems I've made myself clear." He then returned his gaze to the girl, who remained trembling on the floor in tears. "Get off of the floor!" He barked. The girl scrambled from her spot to get to her seat, shaking rapidly.
"Now, do you all understand?" He asked. Everyone shook their heads quickly, being absolutely certain to clamp their mouths shut. "Good. Now, turn your textbooks to page 300 and begin reading…"