The Salem Institute for Witches
Introduction
Tucked away, right in plain sight, is an academy of education. This academy isn't like its counterparts, not to say it really has any in the conventional sense, but here, they don't just learn Science and Math, no. No, what's taught in these halls is far more special than can be learned in any other institution in the United States of America.
You see, in the Salem Institute for Witches, the finest witches and wizards are trained to hone their magical abilities to become the best of their age. Founded just three years before the Salem Witch trials, the school was headed by the Original Three: Sarah Eaglewood, Olivia Ursong, and Katherine Vulpin. These women created a haven for those blessed with magic, its power coursing through their veins.
They divided the Institute into three Halls: Eaglewood, Ursong and Vulpin. Those who were free-willed and brave found themselves in Eaglewood Hall. Ursong Hall embraced the loyal and strong. Students who were cunning and quick-thinking aligned in Vulpin. Under their shared vision young witches grew and became beacons of the promise of a magical future in the New World.
In 1765, a fourth leader emerged in the Institute at the insistence of Benjamin Franklin—he was actually very in-tune with all things magical—William Whitetail, an American-born wizard who had studied in Europe. With the spur of the American Revolution, Franklin believed that the school would do well to tutor young wizards, as well. The Original Three agreed, and Whitetail joined the school as their Black Magic Defense Instructor, creating what became known as the American Four: the Witches and Wizard who inspired a magical surge in the Americas.
Whitetail founded his own hall which accepted the honest and intelligent, and under their supervision, witches and wizards of all ages learned the most basic and most advanced ways to protect themselves against whatever evil came against them and ways to build themselves, their friends and their community for the better.
It is here, in this academy that we find our story. For you see, within these walls, a student will leave his mark on the wizarding world… for better or for worse.
Chapter 1.
Micah tried as hard as he could to concentrate; Professor Grudgins had given them at least two hours of charms homework. Well, it was only an essay on the importance of the Reparo charm in ensuring the American Revolution's success, but so far, he had been staring at his quill for…well…two hours.
"Maybe we should cheat?" Arno suggested in a huff.
Arnold "Arno" Timbleworm was Micah's very, very best friend, since the dawn of time—if you consider the big food fight during their 3rd year the dawn of time. Arno was your average rich kid: entitled, proud and sometimes, really annoying; BUT he really did have a good heart…somewhere. His great grandfather was Wimbly Timbleworm, ace smuggler of magical artifacts during the American Revolution. His acquisition of cold-warding herbs—an export of the crown—allowed Washington to sail the Delaware in his underwear. True story. Granted, Arno wasn't as courageous as his grandfather, he still had the long, silver-speckled hair that was typical of the Timbleworms.
"We can't cheat, dummy," Micah grunted, sweeping his light brown hair out of his face with his hand. Grudgins has an honesty spell for the paper, and you know they'll squeal on us."
"Stupid paper."
"Yeah, Arno, stupid paper."
Arno made an ugly face at Micah.
"Then what do you suggest, Sir Seabane?"
Micah rolled over on his bed and stared at the ceiling which had a painted mural of a whitetail stag, the sigil of their hall. He and Arno had been sorted their first day in to Whitetail Hall by the Looking Glass, a magical mirror that would sort students by having them look into the mirror. The legend says that while the student looks into the glass, the glass looks into the student: their goals, their fears, their strengths and weakness, and sorts them in the hall that would not only benefit by having them, but would benefit them as well.
"Well," Micah began, looking over his shoulder to the clock on the wall—it read 6:30 pm—"we could head down to the Mess Hall, and see if anyone else is having trouble?"
"Food does sound good right about now," Arno said rubbing his belly. "Let's go!"
The boys grabbed their silver and black robes and ran out of their room and down the corridor, down the stairs, jumped over the pond, up another set of stairs and into the common room. It was very clean and modern for the time, especially for the Wizarding World. In the center of the room was a large throw rug which laid on top of wormwood hardwood.
Different clusters of seating chairs with white cushions littered the room, along with a few tables and metal chairs for students to do their homework. Right at the very end of the room, opposite of the stair well was a tall, sleek fireplace which extended fifteen feet to the ceiling. Just like in their room, the white stag adorned most accents, along with a few portraits of various former Whitetail students and other magical people.
However, unlike your common painting or photo, these pictures came to life.
"Arno, top of the evening to you!" A fat man walking his dog said; this painting was right next to the door to leave. His name was Talking Thomas.
"Good evening, Tom, I hope you're well."
"As well as I'll ever be. Say, did you boys hear about the Ursong Quidditch team this year?"
"No," Micah said as Arno rolled his eyes, "What about them?"
"Word on the wall is that they're Keeper is being expelled!" Tom danced hysterically while his dog licked himself. "Stop that!"
"Expelled?!" exclaimed Arno, "What the hell for?"
Micah waited impatiently for the answer as Tom neared to add dramatic effect.
"Black Magic…"
"Black Magic?" Arno asked, mortified, "You mean like…"
"Yes, just like him! I thought after all of that mess with Potter stopping him, more Wizards and Witches would learn to only use their magic for good!"
"Do you really think Humphrey was using Black Magic?" Micah asked in disbelief.
"I'll write to dad and ask him about it. He and Humprey's dad are really close thanks to their involvement in the American Quidditch team. Maybe he'll know something?"
"Maybe," Micah asked, shaking his head. Black Magic… he thought, I've never heard of anyone actually practicing it. At least not here.
As they walked down the corridor, they could hear the whispers of their fellow students.
"Boy, it seems everyone's heard about Humphrey," Arno said, averting eyes from Melinda Sugarstone—his secret crush.
"I'll say. I mean, I've never heard of anyone practicing Black Magic here in Salem. That was like, muggle propaganda, or something."
"Maybe we should ask Professor Lucero?"
"Yeah, come on," Micah agreed, darting down another corridor.
Professor Lucero was the current Black Magic Defense Instructor, accepting the position thirty years prior, though you'd never know it considering he didn't look a day over twenty five. As the boys entered his office, he was pulling his auburn hair into a bun.
"Professor Lucero!" they both shouted as they busted into the room.
"Where's the fire?!" he exclaimed, knocking over his ink pot.
"Oh, sorry, Professor," Micah said, using his handkerchief to soak up the excess ink.
"Stop, stop, Micah," Lucero said with a chuckle, "You're getting ink everywhere, I got it."
He pulled out a long, slender wand and with the flick of a wrist, the ink leapt off of the table, and out of the handkerchief, and back into the pot. He smiled.
"Now, what is so important that you've given me a reason to buy a new door?"
"Well, we were curious," Arno began.
"If it was true about Humphrey?" Micah finished.
Lucero's smile grew dim, and he looked away.
"It is. Professor Stoddery found him practicing…" his voice trailed.
"Practicing what, Professor?" Micah insisted.
"Something very, very dark."
"Dark?" they murmured.
"Dark enough to remind me of days I hope to never live again…with You-Know-Who."
"No way," Arno said. "You know my dad said that he was there, at the Battle of Hogwarts…" he said excited, but paused to think about it: "Then again…I was being born on our Island in the Pacific…"
"No offense, Arno," Lucero said, choosing his words carefully, "Your dad was nowhere near that battle. None of us here were. We had our own problems here in the States."
"Like what?" Micah asked; his mind racing.
"Look, boys, there's nothing for you to worry about." He was avoiding the subject. "I promise. Headmaster Rentiwink will keep us all safe."
"Well, that's good." Arno said, relieved.
Micah wasn't convinced. He studied Lucero's face carefully. Behind his calming smile, was the truth, Micah knew it. Something he didn't want them to know. What was Humphrey doing?
Later on that evening, the boys were relaxing in the Whitetail common room with their friends Alicia Sugarstone, another 4th year, and Windle Fibershuck, a 3rd year. Arno was mindlessly petting his cat, Edward Whiskerhands, while the others talked about the hottest topic to hit the school…
"In decades." Alicia declared.
"You really think so?" Windle asked, his eyes wider than a chasm.
"Duh? I mean, if you forget about what happened in England like, fifteen years ago, or whatever," she raced, her hands moving almost as much as her mouth.
"Well, that was a big deal," Micah reminded.
"Yeah, it was a big deal. I mean, when you think about it, the shoe seems to fit, you know?"
"What do you mean, Alicia?" Windle asked eagerly.
"She means Humphrey's granddad," Arno explained as he stared distantly. Micah wondered if he had been listening at all with his blank stare and all.
"Wha'bout him?"
"Windle, don't you know anything?" Alicia asked.
"Don't be mean," Micah scolded.
"Sorry, I'm just saying, I thought everyone knew about his granddad. He was like a big supporter of You-Know-Who and his Pure Blood regime, and whatever."
"Really?" Windle said worried; he was a half-blooded wizard on his mom's side.
"Oh, yeah," she continued, "I mean, he was the founder of the Death Lords, you know, like the American whatchamacallits."
"Death Eaters," Arno said, again, distantly.
"Right, them. He almost burnt Salem to the ground, as well as other major towns. It was, like, a huge PR nightmare for the Department of Magic. I even think they had to brief the President." She smiled. She loved knowing everything.
"Whooooooa," Windle twiddled his thumbs. "You don't think Humphrey wants to come after me, do you?"
"Don't worry," Micah said with a smile, "If anyone can keep us safe, it's Professor Lucero."
"I agree, besides…" Alicia stopped and sighed deeply, "he's so completely hot."
"Shut up," the boys said in unison.
"Fine, whatever. Idiots. That reminds me, did either of you finish the report for Charms?"
"See, about that," Micah began.
Arno's focus finally snapped back.
"We need to cheat off you…"