Chapter 2.
"Now, I've read all of your reports on the importance of the Raparo charm in the American Revolution," Professor Grudgins stated matter-o-factly. He reminded Micah of a giant turkey stuffed into a set of brown and green robes—the colors of the Ursong Hall. His blonde hair was wild and unkempt, yet his piercing blue eyes somehow showed through. He had a thin mustache, much like the Three Musketeers—in Arno's professional opinion.
"Now, most of you did very well."
"Except Arno," Arno muttered under his breath.
"However, some of you decided to go in a way that wasn't historically accurate. At no point did the Reparo charm fix the stick in Professor Gru—my backside."
Micah tried to give Arno a look of consolation, because Grudgins was, in fact, glaring at Arno. The rest of the class snickered. Arno shrugged.
After class, Micah and Arno tried to get out of the room as quickly as possible, but despite Professor Grudgin's size, he was without a doubt the fastest teacher in school. He had already appeared behind them, the moment they turned around.
"You would think, Mr. Timbleworm, that a young man of your…distinguished stature would care more about his education, wouldn't you agree Mr. Seabane?"
"Sir, I just thought—"
"I know what you thought, Mr. Timbleworm, but let me tell you something you should think about." Grudgins tightened the large belt he used to keep his robes close, "15 points will be deducted from Whitetail Hall for insubordinate behavior, and I have half a mind to write to your father." He then looked at Micah, "Both of your fathers."
Micah shuddered at the thought. His family wasn't nearly as wealthy as Arno's, but his dad was Elijah Seabane, a world-renowned wizard-for-hire—an Auror, of sorts. He was as ruthless as he was kind, and Micah's education at the Institute was paramount.
"That won't be necessary, Professor," Micah insisted.
"Yeah, besides, we wouldn't want your writing to be interrupted by your discomfort," Arno added.
"Excuse me, Mr. Timbleworm?" Grudgins glared at Arno intensely.
"You know, because of that st—"
"Nothing, Professor, see you Friday!" Micah interrupted, covering Arno's mouth forcefully. He kicked Arno in the back of the leg as they walked out, mostly because Arno was still talking despite Micah's hand.
"Are you out of your mind?" Micah shouted as they walked down the hall. "He's already taken fifteen points from Whitetail and he probably would've taken another fifty had you finished!"
"Okay, first of all, he wouldn't dare take fifty," Arno began.
"Yes, he would," Micah corrected, though Arno didn't seem to be paying attention.
"And secondly, my dad pays a lot of money into this school. We wouldn't want that to go away, now would we?"
"Whatever, Arno. Your dad would string you up before you even finished writing your letter," Alicia declared. She had snuck up on them, and was, obviously, eavesdropping.
"Where the hell did you come from?" Arno squeaked, taking two steps away.
"From Potions, duh. But I heard about your report for Charms," she snickered, "Did you really mention the stick up Grudgin's butt?"
"Well," Arno said, proudly, "I—"
"Good morning, Arno," Melinda said as she walked by them. Her smile stopped Arno dead.
"Good morning, Mel, I hope classes are treating you well," Alicia said, hugging her sister. Unlike her, Melinda was sorted into Eaglewood. Melinda nodded that they were and went on her way.
"H-h-hi," Arno finally sputtered out.
"Too late, smoothness," Micah mocked. "Next time, try saying hi when she's actually still here."
"Shut up, Micah."
"Your crush on my sister is, like, really obvious...you know she totally knows, right?"
"Shut up, Alicia!"
The trio, well quartet since Windel joined after his Intro to Magic course, made their way to the Courtyard. The Courtyard was actually five different areas; the combined area looked like an inverted star, where students could go in between periods, after classes or really whenever they found the time. These areas change from day to day depending on how the school feels, and today, the five areas were: a vineyard, plain asphalt, beautiful hills with a pond in the center, a sparring range, and what could be easily explained as the patio of a coffee shop—minus the actual coffee shop.
"Kind of boring today, huh?" Windel asked as he flipped through the pages of his Intro to Magic book.
They were laying on one of the dozen hills, eating their lunch.
"Yeah, but it beats that one day with the swamp," Micah said as he watched some of the students playing in the pond.
"I don't know about that," Alicia chirped, "watching that swamp monster chase Billings Kinnblebee was pretty funny."
The entire group laughed.
"Yeah, that was actually pretty funny," Micah agreed, "It was pretty cool watching Professor Lucero using that as an opportunity to show us the Incarcerous spell."
"Cool? It was freaking amazing!" Windel insisted, his eyes showing their usual spark.
"I'll say," Arno chimed. "Actually, I tried using that spell on Professor Grudgins."
"You're an idiot," Micah said with a smile. "How did that go?"
"Pretty well, I mean, I ensnared myself and had to get cut out by Headmaster Riniwink—and losing 5 points for our Hall— but still. Pretty well."
"You really are an idiot, Arno," Alicia reiterated.
Arno stuck his tongue out at Alicia and the group shared a good laugh. All but Windel, who seemed to turn his back from the group. He must really be into this course, Micah said approvingly. They continued to joke about Professor Grudgins, a Whitetail pastime—Whitetail and Ursong Halls were very competitive, and Grudgins was the Head of Ursong Hall; it really just came with the territory.
After about an hour, it was time for them to rush to their next course: An American History of Magic. All but Windel stood up.
"Windel, come on, you're going to be late for class," Alicia said as she wrapped her bag around her neck.
Windel didn't steal away from his book. Micah became concerned; Windel never missed a chance to tag along.
"Windel, c'moooooon. You're slower than an elf," Arno insulted.
He still remained motionless. Finally, Micah knelt down to check on him, but when he placed his hand on Windel's shoulder, he felt an ice cold radiate off of him.
"He's cold."
"What?" Arno said, seemingly concerned. He rushed in front of him; Alicia followed.
They looked like mortified.
"Micah, he's…dead." Alicia whimpered. "Someone help!" she screamed, causing everyone around them to stop what they were doing.
Micah's stomach dropped. He rolled Windel over and it was worse than he thought. His skin was a pale blue. He was breathing, but just barely. And his eyes… They were completely black.
Professor Lemonstalk was the first on the scene. She was the Divination professor, but moonlit as a nurse whenever Miss Orline Enerbell, the school's matron, needed an extra hand or two. She said nothing as she scooped a lifeless Windel into her arms. Lucero flew in on his broomstick from somewhere far away, because he snapped into view with a thunder pop from the direction opposite of the school. His broom seemingly disappeared with a swish, and, on his feet, he took Windel from his grievous coworker.
"Professor?" Micah called, having been separated from them by a parade of concerned—more like nosey—classmates.
"Everyone go to their class. Now." Lucero commanded, bounding toward the school.
"What the hell was all that about?" Arno asked, trying to look over the sea of heads.
"You don't think Humphrey was involved, do you?" Alicia asked.
"I don't know," Micah said; the image of Windel's eyes were burned into his mind. "But I think we need to have a word with Professor Lucero..."
"You don't think he's trying to become a dark wizard, do you?" Alicia seemed almost heartbroken.
"I honestly don't know, but then again, what else could it be?" he asked.
They agreed to ask Professor Lucero about it later, and continued to their American History of Magic. This course, Arno's favorite, gave a detailed look into Magic's very important role in the founding of America and its progression today.
"Now," Professor Yun-Li sang; her voice usually seemed to keep the attention of her male students, "while the very popular Muggle novel Abraham Lincoln Vampire Hunter is entirely fictional, it does give an interesting look into why Vampires were hunted like they were by both the Magical and non-Magical community, alike."
"Professor," Wyatt Ficklesplat, an Ursong, called.
"Yes, Wyatt."
"I thought hunting Vampires was illegal?"
"That's correct, however, there was an idea that they were monsters, and I use that term loosely, due to several misunderstandings in the Magical community that was witnessed by Muggles.
"Like what?" Arno shouted, truly interested.
"First of all, Arno," Professor You-Li began, "I've told you fifty two times this month to at least raise your hand before shouting and interrupting your classmates. Five points from Whitetail." The Ursongs snickered, while their fellow Whitetails glared.
"Now," she continued, "As you should already know, the hunting of Vampires was made illegal by the Guidelines for Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans, which was adopted largely in Western Europe before being adopted in the Americas in the early 1800's.
However, discrimination for Vampire kind continued well into the early 1900's, due to an event during the American Revolution, the subject of which is for your report due on my desk no later the next Thursday."
The class groaned.
After class, Micah, Arno and Alicia made their way back to Whitetail Hall to prepare for dinner. Whispers seemed to replace normal chatter in the corridors as hundreds of theories emerged as to what happened to Windel. The most prevalent was that Humphrey became an insane disciple of You-Know-Who and was trying to continue his work in the States.
In fact, dirty looks were given to almost every single Ursong by their fellow students, save the three. Micah just wasn't convinced that Humphrey was capable of something so foul. Sure, like every Whitetail and Ursong, they had a run-in or two, but that was standard ribbing at the Institute. Surely no one was capable of something so…so dark.
Washed up and ready for dinner, the three made a beeline for Professor Lucero's office instead of going straight to the Mess Hall.
Now conscientious of a possible ink spill, Micah knocked on the door instead of barging in.
"Come on in, you three," Lucero called from the other side of the door.
They obeyed and came into the room to find Lucero readying himself for dinner.
"I was wondering when you'd come poking around," he joked.
"Professor," Micah started.
"You want to know what's going on; I know."
"So, then tell us," Arno demanded.
"Arno, my boy, we've been over this. If you want to be taken seriously in proper interactions, you mustn't be such a…what's the best word?"
"Douche?" Alicia suggested.
"You said it, not me," Lucero stated clearly, but agreeing.
"You can't call me that!" Arno reprimanded.
"And I didn't, Arno. Now, stop being so rude." Lucero smiled at Arno's, now, beet-red face. "I'm not supposed to give you all the details, I'm really not; but I know you'll just go sniffing around in places you don't belong.
After all that's happened in the last couple of decades, who knows what's waiting to crawl out of the dark…" his voice trailed as a look of concern crept along his face.
"Professor, what is going on?" Micah pressed.
"Listen. I don't believe You-Know-Who is coming back. He's…gone, and all things willing, he'll stay gone; but that won't stop foolish wizards and witches from either trying to resurrect him or to emulate him."
"Who would want to do either?" Alicia asked.
"Obviously, dark witches or wizards!" Arno corrected.
"Arno…"
"Right, stop being rude. Ugh."
"Thank you. But yes, Alicia, there are some who believe that his return would be great for the entire magical world…well, for the world in general. No Muggles or Muggle-born."
"Is that why they targeted Windel?" Micah asked.
"I honestly hope not, Micah. And with a curse like that…"
"I've never heard of a curse that does that," Arno said, trying to choose his tone carefully.
Lucero, noticing this, nodded in acknowledgement.
"I've only heard, but never seen it for myself…at least not until today," Lucero admitted.
"So, is Windel dead?" Alicia squeaked.
"No, he's not, but honestly," Lucero's demeanor became grimmer than grim, "I'm sure he wishes he was."
The three stared.
"How do you mean?" Micah insisted.
"Listen, you three, I've said a lot more than I should have. Now, I need you to swear to me," he paused, "I need you to swear to me that you won't mention this to your classmates. We have a special visitor coming to investigate this, and I will get in a lot of trouble for confiding in my students. Do we understand?"
The lot nodded 'yes.'
"Good. Now, I believe they will take care of this without an issue. So make sure you keep your noses clean. Understood?"
They nodded again.
"Good. Now, let's get some food."
Lucero immediately changed the subject, and escorted them to the Mess Hall.