Chapter 3.

It had been almost a week since Windel's incident. Professors and prefects were a more common sight, though everyone insisted everything was fine. Micah was alone today; Arno landed himself in detention—he reminded Grudgins where his missing stick was—and Alicia was volunteering with her sister in the town.

He walked down a corridor leading to his favorite study hall. It was in Ursong territory, sure, but it had a big bay window that overlooked the Courtyard, and when he was lucky, he was able to see the Courtyard change. He loved watching the old landscape almost fizzle out into nothingness, with a new one appearing out of thin air with a loud POP!

He really needed to finish his report for his American History of Magic course, since it was due in the couple of days. Placing his bag in an empty chair, he claimed a small table near the bay window for himself and proceeded to browse the library for any books that could help with his research. He didn't mind, of course, he enjoyed studying when Arno wasn't around. Arno had a bad habit of distracting him from his studies.

The assignment at hand was an interesting one as well; Vampires had always fascinated him, especially when his father would come home with stories about his adventures and the one or two rogue vampires he'd run into.

"There are bad Vampires," his father, Elijah Seabane, would say, "but there are bad Wizards, too. You can't assume that everyone is out to get you…" but he would caution, "Then again, that doesn't mean they aren't."

Micah had never met a Vampire, but he assumed he had passed them in Main St with his father in town. Every once and awhile, his father's hand would tighten on his shoulder as they passed people. Not every person, just some. Salem had become a bustling trade city in the Magical community, so it wasn't uncommon to pass creatures and Wizards from all ends of the globe. Surely one of them wasn't up to any good.

He snapped his thoughts back into focus. Grabbing The Magical Revolution: Wizards During the American Revolution by George Irstones and Vampiric Revolutiaires: Monsters or Heroes by Andrei Sanginali, he sat at his table and began to think about how he would form his report. Professor Yun-Li wasn't very forthcoming with the details of the event that inspired the report—as she never was—so he was hoping that Vampiric Revolutionaires would give the insight he needed. Where to begin, he thought as he leafed through a few of the pages. Fortunately, he found a passage or two that would help and he began to write:

Micah Seabane
American History of Magic
4th Year, Whitetail House

The Unfortunate Misunderstanding of Vampire Kind that Lead to

the Persecution of Vampire Kind in the 19th Century

It is no secret that Wizards and Witches helped in the fight to win American independence from the British; however, it is not as widely known that Vampires also aided in the fight, albeit at night or when the sun was blotted out by heavy rainfalls, or other inclement weather.

He was actually relieved with how easy was able to get his report written despite his busying thoughts. Maybe Arno really was a heavy distraction? Regardless, he loved Arno's company. Arno's brand of entitled-idiocy really rounded out Micah's day; besides, Arno really was a mess without Micah watching out for him.

Then again, perhaps it was best for him to at least do his homework without Arno around? No, he decided, Arno would just cheat off of him anyway. Micah laughed. Arno would cheat off of him so lazily; you wouldn't be able to tell they were supposed to be the same report.

After an hour of writing, he decided to stop by the Infirmary wing to see how Windel was doing. He could still the look of terror on Windel's face as if something terrified him into shock. Alicia definitely noticed his absence too, mentioning that wherever she went, Windel was never too far behind. Maybe he was doing better today? Micah could only hope.

The Infirmary was on the far west side of the Institute, overlooking the Courtyard. It was two stories, as there were often several members of the Eaglewood Hall Quidditch team taking up space. At one point, Eaglewood had to scrounge up an entirely new Quidditch team after a particularly nasty game with Vulpin rendered the entire Eaglewood team unplayable for the rest of the term. It's not that the team can't play; it's just that they would rather risk death than lose; a reality they played with every single game.

Today, only two members of Eaglewood were there: Moriah Gunglery their Keeper, and Hank Poddins, a reserve Beater.

"What happened this time?" he heard Miss Enerbell ask Hank as she wrapped up his two broken arms with the Ferula charm.

"Well," he said in his nasally tone, "I was just working on some new moves with Moriah and then out of nowhere—"

"The Bludger broke both of his arms…and my nose…" Moriah finished, noticeably bitter.

"Well," Miss Enerbell said in her sweetness, "I should be able to help that nose with a little…Episky," she hummed with a flick.

Moriah eagerly felt her nose and even wiggled it a few times. Elated, she threw her arms around Miss Enerbell.

"Unfortunately," she said to Hank, "Yours will actually require some old fashion healing, although that splint should at least give you some comfort. I'll need you to rest here over the next couple of days, so I can monitor you further."

Moriah said her goodbyes to Hank and smiled to Micah on her way out. Miss Enerbell wasn't too far behind and placed her arm on Micah's arm.

"You're here to see him, aren't you dear?''

"How is he? Can I see him?" Micah asked earnestly.

Miss Enerbell gave a look of both sympathy and woe, and Micah's heart sank.

"I'm sorry, Micah, but his condition hasn't changed and at the insistence of both Headmaster Riniwink and Professor Lucero, we're not permitting students to see him until further notice."

"What's happened to him?" Micah demanded.

"Listen, Micah, you need to go back to your studies. If Windel's condition changes, I promise I'll send for you if I'm able to."

Micah was frustrated, but nodded. He couldn't be upset at her, as she was only doing her job, and frankly, she was the best. Perhaps Professor Lucero would be more forthcoming since he was alone? He decided it was worth a shot, at least.

"Thank you, Miss Enerbell," Micah said with a semi-forced smile.

She nodded, and he quickly left the Infirmary. It was starting to get late, and he wanted to see Professor Lucero before dinner officially commenced in the Mess Hall.

He ran into Alicia not too long after leaving the Infirmary and she seemed distressed.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Nothing," she answered, "I'm just worried about Windel. I tried to visit him before class this morning and Miss Enerbelll said—"

"That he's under lock down, yeah I know. I just tried to see him," Micah finished.

Alicia passed her hand through her icy-colored hair, and proceeded to chew on the end of thumb.

"You need to calm down, Leese," he said empathetically, though he knew that was easier said than done.

"Like, I don't even know why I'm so worried about him," she admitted, "I mean he's so annoying, following me around and whatever, but…"

"He's our friend, that's why."

"Yeah," her voice trailed. "Maybe we should talk to Lucero?"

Micah knew she needed the peace of mind, but he wanted to try and get Lucero alone. He was sure he could be more effective getting information if he didn't have to worry about anyone else getting in the way.

"How about this, Leese: why don't I go talk to Lucero and see what he thinks, and you go find Melinda and head down to the Mess Hall? You need to keep yourself busy, okay?"

Alicia looked at him for a moment, but she reluctantly agreed to his idea. He gave her a long hug and walked her to their Hall, after which he made his way toward Lucero's office, which was in the Institute's basement, a floor above the "Dungeon."

He always liked the Basement. It wasn't as…formal as the rest of the Institute. It reminded him of Colonial America, or at least what he imagined it to be: smooth stone floors and walls with wooden features that had a lot of character. Even with torches lit, there was a darkness in this floor; he felt comfortable here.

Lucero's office was at the very end of the main corridor, opposite of the entry stairwell. Once he finally got to the large mahogany door, he knocked as hard as he could so that he could pierce through the door's thickness.

"Come on in, Micah," he heard Lucero call.

"How do you always know when it's me?" Micah asked, as he entered the room.

Lucero was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room, dozens of books opened around him and he was smoking from a long hose, a hookah bowl sitting ten feet away on the mantel of his fireplace.

"Everyone seems to have a specific knock," he responded without lifting his eyes from the book floating in front of him. "Yours is almost airy, while Arno's…I would dare think he was of Giant descent if I didn't know who his family was." He smiled.

Micah debated on how he would bring up Windel.

"Out with it, man," Lucero commanded.

Micah didn't know how to react. Lucero's eyes lifted from his book for a moment when he noticed Micah still hadn't responded.

"I apologize, Micah," Lucero relented, "Long day. What's on your mind?"

"I tried to go visit Windel today in the Infirmary, and Miss Enerbell said I wasn't able to under your recommendation, so I was hoping you could give me permission to see him?"

Lucero's floating book slowly lowered to the ground and he let of his hose which flew back to its place on the mantel, while he looked at Micah compassionately.

"Listen, bud, I know this is a difficult thing to deal with, but I can't help you there."

"Well, I figured that since you recommended that he be locked down—" Micah tried to argue.

"Micah, look, even if I wanted to give you clearance, I can't, because my permission does nothing against the wishes of Headmaster Riniwink. Besides," Lucero's eyes glassed over, "Windel's condition hasn't improved."

This was his chance to find out what was really going on, so Micah decided if he couldn't see Windel, perhaps he could get some more information.

"Can you at least tell me what is going on? Do you think Humphrey is involved?"

Lucero laughed out of frustration.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"I can't say I will," Micah admitted defiantly.

"Sometimes I can't tell you or Arno apart. Fine." He motioned at a chair not too far from where he was sitting.

Micah quickly grabbed a seat and waited impatiently. Lucero sat quiet for a moment and opened his mouth to speak. KNOCK. KNOCK. Two loud thuds interrupted him before he could start.

"Yes, Headmaster?" Lucero called.

The door swung open and a tall, very thin man slowly entered the room; it was Headmaster Riniwink. He had more wrinkles on his face than a crumpled piece of paper, and eyebrows so bushy, you wouldn't be able to begin to guess his eye color. His nose was also large and a very bright pink. How such a feeble man gave such a powerful knock was beyond Micah.

"Micah," Riniwink said softly, "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Sorry, Headmaster," Micah began.

"No need for apologies, I'm sure Professor Lucero was an excellent host."

Micah nodded quickly, and Lucero smiled.

"What can I do for you, Headmaster?" Lucero asked.

"I wanted to know if our preparations for our guests were complete."

"Almost, Sir, I was actually taking care of the last bit now."

Micah looked at Lucero puzzlingly.

"Allow me, Professor," Riniwink said with a smile. "Micah, my boy, we weren't going to bother you with it until we knew for sure he was coming."

"Before you knew who was coming?" Micah asked, concerned.

"Given the circumstances of the nature of Windel," Lucero added, "Headmaster Riniwink and I believed that my expertise alone wasn't enough for the situation, and that we needed to consult outside help."

Micah didn't want to hear who he thought they were talking about.

"Micah, your father will be joining us in order to oversee the security of our school. Considering the status of Windel is almost certainly Dark Magic," Riniwink said 'Dark Magic' very slowly, "we wanted the very best for our students."

"Actually," Lucero corrected, "Arno's father demanded that we hire him." He looked at Micah with a smile, "Your father wasn't cheap after all."

Lucero's joke didn't make Micah's stomach drop any less. If his dad was involved, then the situation was far worse than he thought. The school year just started, and it was already a mess.

"If that's all, Headmaster?" Lucero asked politely.

"Of course, of course," Riniwink said with a wave, "I will see you both at supper." And with that, he left as slowly as he came.

Micah sat in silence, while Lucero stared for a moment, studying him.

"I was planning on telling you," Lucero insisted.

"Sure," Micah said, never taking his eyes off of the ground. He really didn't want to see his dad. He loved him dearly, of course, but where his dad was, there was always trouble. Always, and not the trouble Arno got them into.

Lucero sat silently, still watching, but Micah didn't move. He was frozen.

"Are you afraid of your father?" Lucero pried.

Micah looked at him with a blank stare.

"I don't mean to overstep my boundaries."

"You're fine, Professor, honestly. It's just, if you hired my dad."

"Yes, we've got some trouble on our hands." Lucero looked away for a moment.

"Is it Humphrey?"

Lucero pondered the question a moment, "I'm not sure, Micah… You see, when Professor Stoddery found him, he was attempting to learn the Killing Curse."

"The Killing Curse…really?!" It was worse news than hearing about his father.

"Really. I don't know where he got the manuscript, but Stoddery was quick to confiscate it, and we immediately burned it."

"A manuscript?"

"Yes. As to who wrote it, we don't know, but we're hoping that the two incidents are isolated."

Micah tried to process the troubling information.

"Now, we know that what has happened to Windel is Dark Magic, but considering Humphrey's knowledge was limited to that of the manuscript—knowledge that was immediately wiped, I might add—we don't believe him to be capable of such a curse."

Micah said nothing, so Lucero continued: "With magic that powerful, we believe this to be the work of a Witch or Wizard far beyond that of a fourth year…no offense…"

"So a professor?" Alicia asked at dinner.

Micah, Arno and Alicia sat at a corner table in the Mess Hall, to seclude themselves from the rest of their Hall.

"That's what I'm thinking," Micah said.

"What did Lucero say about it?" Arno asked, stuffing his face full of the greasiest burger anyone had ever seen.

"Nothing really," Micah said, much to the dismay of both Alicia and Arno, "I kept asking him if was convinced it could be a professor, but I think I got all I could out of him."

"Honestly, I'm surprised you got that much out of him," Alicia said taking a drink from her crabapple juice, "I mean, he's, like, super secretive and stuff."

Micah realized how true that was.

"I don't know why he talked to me about it," Micah realized.

"Maybe he likes you," Arno suggested with a sneer.

"Yeah, or maybe I'll send you flying across the room," Micah threatened. Arno looked away as fast as he could.

"Both of you, shut up," Alicia demanded. "Micah, do you really think it's that bad? Maybe it's isolated, like Lucero said."

"But then why would my father insist on having Micah's dad come down here?" Arno questioned, still avoiding Micah's gaze.

"Exactly," Micah agreed, forgetting about the squabble, "I mean, seriously, guys, my dad only deals with seriously dark stuff."

"Maybe he'll tell you about it?" Alicia suggested.

Micah truly doubted it. His father's biggest concern was his education at the Institute.

"Remember, son," his father had said, Micah's first day at the Institute, "Your education here is the most important thing. Your studies could be the only thing that separates you from certain death. Trust me."

Those words rang in his head like a daily alarm. He debated on writing his father anyway, despite the fact that he was coming to the school. Maybe some semi-impersonal correspondence would be beneficial? He knew he'd never have the courage to ask his father what was troubling him face-to-face.

"Well?" Arno pushed.

"I honestly doubt it, guys," Micah said, shaking his head, "Dad doesn't really like to talk about his work," he paused, "especially with me."

Arno and Alicia looked down at their plates. Micah had lost his apetite at this point. He decided against writing the letter, figuring that the last thing he needed was his father keeping an extra eye on top of the eye he would be keeping on Micah and his friends. Best not, he thought as he finally ate a French fry.

The rest of dinner was relatively uneventful, aside from Arno and Alicia arguing about which member of The Rabbit Hole—and all-girl Wizard-punk band from New York—was their favorite. Arno insisted it was Matilda 3-pots, while Alicia would not hear anything aside from Gertie Spitrat. Micah was personally fond of a band from the Northwest—Hollow's Eve, so he kept his opinion to himself.

As he lay in bed later that night, Micah found himself wrestling with his decision to not write his father. I mean, I've not spoken to him in a few weeks, he thought, Maybe I could write him and ask him how he's doing, let him know that I'm excited to see him and then…ask him? He couldn't decide if the direct approach would be worse than indirect, but either way he'd be asking him. I'll do it, he decided, I'll write him.

He looked over at Arno, who was either in a deep sleep…or just unconscious. He lit a candle on his nightstand and strained his eyes to adapt to the low light. Quill in hand, he wrote:

Hello, dad!

I hope you are well; school is going really well—Arno and Alicia say hi.

I've really been enjoying my American History of Magic course, and while

I don't much care for my Potions professor; I think I could really see myself

using potions later in life. Speaking of, my Black Magic Defense professor

has not only shown us really useful spells, but he actually mentioned that

you were coming to the school! He didn't really say what for, but I'm assuming

it's related to the rumors of one of my classmates practicing Black Magic…

Dad, I'm only worried because of my friend Windel…he's cold, and his eyes

are black… I'll definitely feel better with you hanging around, but what could

have caused it? Maybe you could give a lesson in our Defense class?

Love and respect,

Micah.

September 14, 2011

It was a little more direct than he intended, and though he heavily considered editing it, he decided against it. His dad would see right through his attempt to dance around the intent, and ultimately reasoned that his way was best if direct. His father would either be compliant or would tell him to bury his nose in his studies. Either way, he figured.

He folded his letter and placed it in an envelope that he had in one of his drawers, sealing it with the wax and seal his father gave him at the start of his 3rd year. The seal was of his family's crest, something his great grandfather designed: a simple circle divided by a dagger. At the center of the dagger was a lonely star. He had always wondered why his grandfather had chosen these symbols to represent their family, but not even his own father knew; the only answer Micah received was: "Your great grandfather was so clever, he was more than likely crazy. So, it's probably just nonsense." Regardless, his family wore it with pride. It defined them in the politics that was the American Wizarding community.

Micah released Arno's pet owl, Uriel, a barn owl—who was sleeping just as soundly as his owner—and poked him in the side. Uriel opened a single eye and nipped in Micah's direction. It was obvious he was not happy to be awake.

"Can you deliver this letter for me?" Micah asked as nicely as he could.

Uriel merely stared.

"What if I gave you a delicious mouse as a reward?" Micah bribed.

Uriel wasn't amused.

"Two mice?"

Nothing.

"I can do three."

Uriel stood immediately at attention.

"There you go," Micah said, confident he was strong armed by an owl. "Deliver this letter to Leslie Seabane, 434343 Lost Road in Salem. Can you do that?"

Uriel dipped his head slowly, an action that must have meant 'yes,' because he snatched the letter from Micah's hand and flew to their window. Micah raced to catch up and opened the window for Uriel, who looked at Micah with a deep intent.

"Yes, I will give you the mice when you return," Micah promised with an eyeroll, "but not if you don't get that letter to the person I asked. So…go. Please."

Uriel hopped out of the window and spread his wings, taking flight into the cool Salem air. Let's see what dad says, Micah thought. He was a little optimistic. Worst case scenario, his dad would tell him to mind his own business. Regardless, he would see his dad soon; it was just a matter of time.

**Note: I really hope you guys are enjoying it so far, considering I've really enjoyed writing it so far. I just wanted to take a quick moment to introduce myself and then respond to the 3 comments I've received. First things first, I'm Arthur A. Dragon. Obviously, that's a pen name, and we'll keep it that way for the time being. Maybe we can have a big reveal of who I am, but it's not like it matters *laughs*. Anywho, I'm a huge fan of the Harry Potter Universe, and I think JKR is inspiring as both a writer and an individual. HP is something my wife and I geek out too on a regular basis, and she was the one who really introduced me to this site, and the wonderful world that is HP fanfics. I wouldn't call myself an aspiring writer, but I do enjoy the craft, so this lets me exert those creative juices (at least for now).

To Sirwormtailz and Ladylayla, I'm glad you guys are enjoying the story so far. I've something a tad ambitious planned, so I'm hoping I'm able to realize that ambition. We'll see. As for incorporating actual HP characters, I think I've found a way to do that without "forcing" it, so you could expect them somewhere down the road. As for updates, I want to update at least once a week (for now) and I may update more, depending on when I finish chapters. The for sure is once/week for the time being. I write mostly in between my other projects, so those will be higher on the priority list. So, I hope that answers that.

To Guest, I wish you would have made some sort of handle; anonymity is only cool if you're spilling corporate secrets *winks*. But good luck on your story, I'll keep an eye out for it.

That's it for now! I'll answer more questions as they come, but I'll do it every couple of chapters or so, that way you guys aren't burdened by constant "author's notes." I wish you all well!

.xoxo. Arthur A. Dragon**