At one point, Cliff looked outside the porthole of the cruise liner, saw treetops and mountainside far below, and returned his attention to the empty cabin, kicking the showglobe between his shoes.
It had only been a week. He'd only been in this new world with other students, all on their own at Ilvermorny, tons of them for the first time just like him, for a few minutes. A few minutes and he was no longer a blank slate. A few minutes and he'd already managed to mark himself as an outsider.
Sinister.
She couldn't mean he was evil, right? He had no idea and wasn't sure if he wanted to know. When Cecily called him that, some sort of light had gone off in Luccio's eyes. He claimed whoever William was must be looking for him and was barely through speaking when he beat a hasty retreat. Cecily didn't even make an excuse. Scowling at him, she stormed right past Cliff, leaving no trace of anyone else ever having been in the compartment with him.
Cliff would pick the showglobe up, watch it, and drop it to the floor of the compartment again and again. Each time he had no idea what it was that made Cecily so scared. Wouldn't the Wandsmart employee have freaked out, too? Wouldn't Effie have said something?
Voices rose outside, and he could see the blobby forms of people going back and forth through the frosted glass of the doors. He thought about getting up, stepping outside, trying again. But what if they could also tell he was "sinister" just by looking at him? The thought of the entire school turning on him in fear made his legs feel like 1000 pound weights.
And then he spied it, the Talk of the Times that Luccio had been reading was still facedown next to him. Cliff picked it up and saw the article he was halfway through.
(continued from page 1)
...these sudden comments from President Harkness that sent the Wizarding World into a frenzy. Not since Silfine McCade endorsed her nephew sixty years ago has the center of the presidency ever so openly opined, and even she wasn't so bold as to do so while still in her position! The winds of change began blowing ever harder when Presidential Hopeful Fie Echols made proclamation after proclamation of incredibly popular reforms - the relaxtion of procurement restrictions for many Restriction A beasts and their parts, re-sentencing for many Dark wizards and witches, and reintroducing AQA-standard Quods for the Ilvermorny owl. Still many of her most ardent detractors call foul. "Waitrose is still my pick," one securitywizard at MACUSA who wished to remain anonymous said. "We know he's casting dead-center. How hexed is it that all this comes out with a month to go to the election?" Indeed, while her newfound grip on the hearts and minds of the public hasn't gone unnoticedno one can prove she was anywhere near Harkness's MACUSA office when this swell of support began, the sudden change of heart strikes more than a few as decidedly sinister.
Sinister.
He threw the paper across the compartment and under the date, which was right after he'd been to MACUSA, he saw the front page headline.
ECHOLS ESTATE - FREAK ACCIDENT OR FRENZIED ASSAULT?
The picture was full of serious-looking robed figures milling around a ring of scorched earth. The caption notated that this was all that was left of the Echols estate, flanked by untouched three-story homes in its upscale DC neighborhood.
Cliff found it impossible to focus on the fact that Effie was running for president. Cecily's interest, and Effie's weird ducking and dodging suddenly made so much sense now, sure.
But that one lady, Mrs. Pryor, had been talking about an attempt on her life. Effie had downplayed it, but... but a house fire? In a rich DC neighborhood? Cliff looked for anything else to take his mind off that dark road, and landed on the showglobe still between his feet.
He picked it up, the two whirls of color still wisping around each other. Had Effie bought this and slipped it into his cauldron? No, she couldn't have. They were speeding out of the store when the employee was, Cliff guess, taking their picture for it.
And besides, she'd never have been able to make it onto the Air Ilvermorny unnoticed. No, there was someone on board who got their hands on this.
Someone who was trying to expose him.
He was long dry by the first time he'd gotten up, which was to put the bracelet that had been donated to Effie, and then to him, around the neck of a yawning Beryl.
"It's not much of an apology for not having more food for you, sorry," he said. And Effie was right, it really was expensive-looking with its alternating shades of gray and one letter of MOORED WALK cut into each bead.
Cliff promised her some food once they'd arrived. When Luccio returned, Cliff sat up straighter, nervous hope running through him, but Luccio only cracked the door wide enough to smile apologetically. He was just there to tell him to change into his school robes - they were docking soon.
Cliff shook his head free of the doom and gloom and went to pull his bag down. Beryl was quite comfortable lounging on top of his stuff and took a swipe at his hand every time he tried to grab around her. Amid a storm of apologies, Cliff had to dump her from the bag in order to get access to his robes. He tried to remember the one that fit him best, but there was something different about all of them, They were newer-looking, with all the frayed ends and worn patches completely gone. Finally, he removed the one he thought was it and pulled it over his head.
Cliff examined himself in the porthole, now a mirror with the darkness of outside behind it. He couldn't believe it - it was a perfect fit! He checked all his robes, hanging them up near his shoulders, and it was the same situation for all of them. Effie. It had to be. That's what she had done when they were sitting in the restaurant. Gratefulness surged through him. He looked through his books - those didn't seem any different, but they hadn't been drenched for the second time in a week, at least.
FOOOOOOOSH
Even through the dimness of the view outside, Cliff could see a giant wave fly high above his window. Almost immediately, a flurry of blue-and-cranberry blots began rushing past the door outside. It took several minutes to coax Beryl into the cauldron, but then, Cliff stepped outside and found himself in the rush forward. The crowd passing under the Ilvermorny crest once more and spilled outside. It was hard to hang on to the feeling he'd been stewing in the entire way up.
He'd been expecting to see a grand castle, but instead they were emptying out onto a long dock that was surrounded on one side by a wide river in which the Air Ilvermorny sat and on the other a lamplit path that twisted off into dark woods.
"First-years!" Called a low voice from somewhere down at the end. "First-years, please, single file in front of me!"
The older students broke off toward the forest, and before Cliff could head toward the voice, another one of those tiny men stuck an arrow expertly through the handles of his bag and cauldron both. With surprising strength, he lifted both from Cliff, taking it to where cages and small personal items were quickly piling up on the spot the pier met the earth at - where that boy from the shore was having trouble finding a spot to put his things. Cliff ignored him, watching as Beryl didn't react much more than peering over the cauldron's brim, so Cliff once more headed toward the voice calling for first-years, stopping dead when he saw its owner.
From the waist up, he was a handsome, broad-shouldered man with flowing hair and rugged features. From the waist down, he had the brown body of a horse, compelete with swishing tail.
"You're a centaur." Cliff said.
The centaur stopped his call to look at Cliff. "And you, a wizard."
Trying to think of a way to say yes, Cliff could only manage, "You're really a centaur."
"Barlitz," he said, a small smile appearing on his face. He shifted the giant blown glass under his arm to the other, and offered Cliff his now free hand. "With great pleasure do I make your acquaintance, Mr...?"
"Cliff Noa."
"As you can see, most prefer to keep their distance." He waved a hand at the line now forming behind Cliff. The next closest person, a tall white boy, was several feet away and leaning so far back he was almost on the person behind him. "No matter. And it looks as though that may be all of you."
Dozens of other first-years were now behind him, the ones further away apparently having missed the instruction for single-file, judging by the giant crowd they stood in. Most, he saw, were chattering away excitedly and shooting uncertain glances in Barlitz's direction. The only remnants of the older students were the dying sounds they made along the stone walkway.
"What now?" A smug, tinny voice called from the knot of students towards the back. "Going to lead us to your lair?"
A smattering of giggles filled the air, though, facing them, Cliff could see just as many uneasy or even outraged looks. For his part, Barlitz only chuckled deeply.
"Quite the contrary." And without another word, he led off to the left, into the shadows under the trees. Cliff moved quick so as not to lose sight of him, but these woods were clearly alive with... something. Many, many somethings. Leaves above him shook, branches cracked and snapped off deep in the gloom, and behind him there was a mass of rustling as other first-years decided their best chances were also hinging on not losing sight of him.
They crunched through the forest, and Cliff's mind was half alert for any dangers in the trees and half on what had happened back on the Air Ilvermorny. Behind him, no one was eager to get any closer to Barlitz than they had to, so he could speak to him with no danger of being overheard.
"Um, Mister Barlitz?"
"'Barlitz' is fine," he said with a reassuring glance back that didn't hinder his stride. "Yes, stripling?"
"What does 'sinister' mean?"
An amused grin spread across his face, but right when it looked like he was about to answer, his ears perked up.
"Whoa!" Someone shouted. Cliff wheeled, seemingly at once with all the other first-years. The boy Cliff had come across on the beach of the Mooredwalk was flailing in the air, as if desperately trying to maintain his balance. Finally, he fell over, kicking up forest floor debris... and continued to move forward at a steady pace, in seconds he'd be past Cliff and Barlitz both. He screamed, "What's happening?"
"The centaur really is leading us to his lair!"
Barlitz laughed, which didn't do anything to help the growing, panicked voices filling the air. Cliff's own pulse started mirroring their unease. Barlitz cantered to the nearest tree branch and hung his blown glass from its lowest branch. Then, he swept his arm in time with the boy as he sped along. "It seems our young sir here was the first. Keep moving, students. Eventually you'll step on a root and be quite on your way!"
But many of them, Cliff included, had frozen. Some, like Cecily, kept traipsing along and, with an "Aha!" started moving up at their own accord, quickly speeding along to join the boy's increasingly panicked shouts in the distance.
"Barlitz, what's going on?" Cliff asked.
"Yeah!" A tall girl demanded. "What are you doing?"
"These are the roots of the snakewood tree," Barlitz said, gesturing generally at the nature around them. "Once you've found one, it'll take you directly to the summit of Mount Greylock, and, consequently, to the gates of Ilvermorny."
"But why do this and not just waaaaalk!" A burly boy was shouting as he bolted along, trying to regain his footing after having fallen onto a root.
"You'll see," another girl was saying, zipping past upright and unconcerned.
More and more were starting to choose stomping around to standing, as Barlitz was resolutely staying put and watching them. Cliff took a few tentative steps off to the side and, as if magnetized, something swept his foot forward, and the dirt parted beneath his other to reveal wavy dark wood.
The root undulated randomly, quickly knocking him on his butt. It jetted him forward faster than a sprint, fluidly cutting through the forest floor. The wild sensation made Cliff feel as though he were constantly jumping a curb, though it seemed to adjust and balance to him - whenever he felt himself tip too far in any one direction, it adjusted and righted him. Not too far back, the darkskinned girl from the when they were boarding was laying flat on hers. It looked as if she were inched along the ground like a worm at ten times the speed.
Animals, or at least things Cliff hoped were animals, bounded in and out of view. Streams and brooks ran off in random directions, so close Cliff could have reached out and skimmed his hands along them. More than a few pairs of eyes came and went, their owners indiscernible in the murk of the woods. For minutes, there were only the sounds of nature and a few errant yelps of surprise and screams of terror.
Then, the night sky broke out from behind a parting of the treetops, and Ilvermorny castle came into clear relief. It was a beautiful structure of gray stone and and a dozen towers with hundreds of windows, many of which threw off inviting, honey-colored light. It wasn't long after the wrought iron front gates of Ilvermorny became apparent that the roots slowed to a crawl near the stone path the older students must have came up by.
Suddenly, his root curved, and Cliff's momentum carried him clear off. He landed hard on his tailbone, and an awful paralyzing sensation shot up his spine. Stunned, Cliff watched the root sink back into the earth with barely a trace. A second later, the girl riding close behind him was spilled into a pile of dead leaves. She caught Cliff grimacing, scowled, and went to join the growing huddle of students against the gates. A few more students had arrived before Cliff could get himself upright. He went closer to the gate, saw that Cecily was gossiping with more and more interested-looking girls, and was deciding go around the other side when someone pointed, "There he is!"
Stepping lightly off a root of his own was Bartliz. He rescued two students, a bigger girl and a rough-looking boy, from tangles their robes had gotten caught in and ushered them along ahead of him. The boy had his hand to his chest and was saying something with a smile on his face to Barlitz. The girl, looking scandalized and covered in leaves, was brushing herself off where Bartliz's hand had been.
Cliff, like the rest of the onlookers, parted for him as he trotted up.
"Gordian knots ready, now!" He called. He easily pushed open the gates, allowing everyone through. Cliff was gripping his own Gordian knot hard, and felt it vibrate forcefully as he passed through the gate. "Looks like you're all who you're supposed to be," Barlitz said with a chuckle before closing it back. Nothing about the gate's appearance had changed, but Cliff got the strangest feeling that even if they all banded together, the door wouldn't budge for them again.
The Ilvermorny courtyard was an enormous, gently sloping hill of dewy grass, darkened in the night sky. Coming up behind Barlitz, the giant double door entrance stood before them, flanked on either side by enormous statues, one of a triumphant-looking woman in with her wand out and robes blustering, like she'd just finished demonstrating a spell and the other of a handsomely grinning man throwing an arm out in welcome.
"As always, your expertise in navigating the grounds is appreciated, Mister Barlitz," a woman's voice said.
"And as always, it is my pleasure, Professor." He bowed deeply and stepped away. Cliff had to push his way to the front to see who was speaking, and saw a tiny old woman that seemed somehow familiar. She gave a tiny start of recognition herself and raised a hand in greeting when their eyes met, and, not knowing what else to do, Cliff returned it.
"Of course he'd know her," Cecily muttered from somewhere behind him.
"Hello, one and all. Normally the Vice Headmistress would handle your reception, but if you'll allow, I am Professor Evonne Toutsoir and exceptionally pleased to make every last one of your acquaintances. Now, inside, you will be Sorted. For any unaware, you will gather around the entrance hall and await your name being called. When it is, simply stand on the Gordian knot and, once Sorted, return to your fellow first-years. It's quite simple, actually."
Before anyone could ask any questions, she withdrew her wand from her sleeve and with a flick of her wrist, the doors behind her opened, blinding Cliff with light.
The crowd surged forward, excitement clear in the energy among them. Cliff felt anticipation race through him like an electric surge, and once inside, wished he weren't at the front of the group. The entrace hall itself was a massive, circular room. Far above, the outside sky was visible, onyx beyond the glass dome that sat where the ceiling would have been. Ringing the entrance hall was a balcony where hundreds of older students clad in their own blue-and-cranberry robes watched the first years below, every face alive with expectation.
Professor Toutsoir tottled over to join the line of faculty looking them over with expressions Cliff couldn't really read. She came to a stop next to a burly brownskinned man with a pleasant smile on his face. When he raised his wand, any sound in the hall died. With a careful arc, alcoves in the wall separated, and Cliff saw they were actually grand carvings that now glided toward the faculty, coming to rest few yards in front of them.
"I am your Headmaster, Professor Agilbert Fontaine," the brownskinned man said in voice that carried throughout the room. "There'll be a time for speeches later, but for now, I am pleased to simply let the Sorting begin. Adaire, Peony!"
No one moved. Then, timidly, a girl with the deeply tan skin inched forward looking like she was on the verge of throwing up. Every one of her steps echoed, and Cliff's heart jumped with all of them. Finally, she was in the center of the Gordian knot.
RAAAAARGH
Collectively, the first-years sprang about a foot in the air. Peony Adaire had hardly been on the spot a full second when the second statue, something feline with thick limbs and bared teeth, split the air with a powerful roar.
"Wampus!" Professor Fontaine shouted, and applause thundered above them, quite a bit louder from somewhere to Cliff's left, he thought. He and the other first-years joined in, all the way until she'd come back to them, looking much more relaxed. "Avellone, Payton!"
A wispy white girl rushed forward, like she just wanted to get it over with. Unlike Peony Adaire, half a minute that felt like half an hour passed, with Payton's trembling become more and more apparent as it went on, until finally the carving furthest to the right of a stuck the arrow clutched in its hand skyward.
"Pukwudgie!"
Clearly delighted, Payton ran back to rejoin everyone else. Gareth Azure became a Pukwudgie as well, but when Iris Barron stepped up, the third statue unfurled its large wings and flapped, sending a pleasant jolt through the air, and the Headmaster called out, "Thunderbird!" The first person to get the forehead crystal of the first statue, a curled snakelike monster, to glow was Jem Callister, and Professor Fontaine declared her a Horned Serpent.
Once another student had become a Thunderbird, Professor Fontaine shouted for "Daly, Leontine" and a darkskinned girl broke free from the crowd, stuffing a Dolce Sweet's bag into her pocket as she did. Far from the look of annoyance she had on the gangway, she looked more uncertain than any of the other students who'd been Sorted already.
It couldn't have been helped by the statues taking twice as long with her as anyone else so far. Cliff thought he saw her move backward a bit when, finally, the Thunderbird statue beat its wings. She spun on her heel and raced past Cliff, who had opened his mouth to try to cheer her on, but was stopped by an ecstatic Cecily and a gaggle of other girls who bustled in to congratulate her.
The next name was called and the hall quieted once again.
With mounting eagerness, Cliff waited for his name to be called out. Balthasar Faraday became a Horned Serpent... Ainsley Guinto a Pukwudgie... Romiette Justice was Sorted into Wampus... and finally, once Tori Naito skipped back after becoming a Wampus herself, Professor Fontaine finished clapping and called, "Noa, Cliff!"
For a second, Cliff thought he was walking forward, then, for another panicky moment, he thought he forgot how. Trying not to focus on his shaking legs, he moved along toward the Gordian knot and almost moved too far forward.
He had the immediate and weirdest sensation that if he turned around, someone would be standing right behind him. He almost turned when the Thunderbird opened its wings wide and flapped, the gust being so powerful he nearly fell over backwards.
"Thunderbird!"
The crowd came alive behind him. The feeling was amazing. A House full of people who he'd been picked to join up with were excited. For him. He caught Professor Toutsoir's eyes and, amid the dying applause, saw her give him a gentle shooing motion and he remembered he was supposed to be going back. He was hardly aware of passing Undine Norwood, whose House he never heard. He could hardly take his eyes off the Thunderbird, which he couldn't help but feel was a little more majestic than the others. Even when it kept its wings bundled around it, there was a regal aura to it that washed over him.
"Silvias, Cecily!"
That name snapped him back to reality. Much more confident than anyone else, she strolled over to the Gordian knot. Half a minute had gone by before the Thunderbird took her into its House. Cliff clapped hard and loud, but inwardly that regal aura he thought was coming off the Thunderbird dulled a little. Three other Houses and they'd ended up in the same one? She came back and shared an excited hug with Leontine and some other girls that Cliff turned away from.
Cecily, the one girl who knew he was "sinister", had been Sorted into his same house. He joined the crowd when they whooped and hollered for "Sinclair, Winter" who got accepted into Horned Serpent. And was dimly aware of doing the same for when "Usman, Firas" got Sorted as well. But he could only focus on how he was going to salvage being branded so early.
The crystal of the Horned Serpent shined for "Walid, Zafiyah" who threw her dark, wavy hair over her shoulder as she came back to the rest of the first-years.
"And last, but not least, Zhou, Robinson!"
The boy who Cliff had almost fallen on back at the Mooredwalk broke away from the group. He scrambled forward and had to have been the fastest Sort. He'd barely come to a complete halt when the Pukwudgie chose him for its House. This time, the teachers joined in with polite claps while the students above went wild with deafening cheers. Professor Fontaine swished his wand and the Sorting Statues moved themselves back into their alcoves. One out of two, at least it wasn't as bad as it could have been.
"With another year's Sorting concluded, I now invite our older students to join us in the Dining Hall. First-years, please await further intruction from your Heads of Houses and Student Covens."
He led the way into the Dining Hall, and in minutes the roar of the student body had flowed in behind them, save some of the teachers and maybe twenty of so students with short shoulder capes adorned in badges of one of the Ilvermorny Houses, Luccio among them.
"Hello!" A short and round man with shiny black hair, a shinier black beard and brown skin waved his wand for everyone's attention. "I am Professor Cesar Lunes, Dean of Pukwudgie House. Thunderbirds, please familiarize yourself with your own Dean, Florence MacIntyre-" a towering white woman with flyaway brown hair and a mischievous glint in her eye nodded at them, "-and Wampuses, Marcois Hollier." A beefy white man with no expression whatsoever on his face stood silent, like he hadn't heard his own introduction.
Tall, slender doors to either side of the ones leading into the Dining Hall swung open. The blue stone steps led further on.
"You'll follow your student covenors downstairs for quite a surprise." Professor MacIntyre said with a small clap of her hands.
Professor Hollier examined a spot on his robes. A few hands shot into the air, which he ignored, but Professor Lunes picked a girl next to Cliff. "Yes, Zafiyah?"
"What about Horned Serpent?" Zafiyah Walid asked, nervously twirling a ringlet of her hair, "Where's our Dean?"
"Professor Robles is otherwise preocuppied," Professor Lunes said. "Never fear, I don't doubt you'll all meet her tomorrow when classes begin. But for now, all new Horned Serpents, please follow me and the Pukwudgie and Horned Serpent covenors to the east door."
"Thunderbirds and Wampuses, please follow me, Professor Hollier and our own covenors through the west door." Professor MacIntyre said.
Cliff allowed a particularly tall pair of girls to get between him and Luccio after he, like the other covenor next to him, turned to give everyone a reassuring smile. Except he, unlike the other covenor, caught Cliff's eye, and immediately turned to stare at Professor MacIntyre's back.
Carved steps of rock led deep down into a chilly, echoing stairwell. The walls were only barely far enough apart for them to walk side by side a bit uncomfortably. The stairs themselves had grooves so worn into them that when Dex Warbury, a Wampus boy, bumped into Pilar Herrera, the Thunderbird girl next to him, she tripped and nearly fell onto the student covenor they were walking behind. Their ensuing argument was cut off almost as quickly as it started when everyone got a shouted reminder to watch their step unless they wanted their hand held on the way down.
"C'mooon," the Thunderbird boy next to him was poking the other in front of them. "Quit ignoring meeee."
The boy in front of them, who, even on the lower steps was still taller than the one trying to get his attention, didn't give any indication he had heard anything. Cliff was trying to think of something to say when he heard Cecily right behind him, hissing to her neighbor, "Him-right there. Saw it on the Air Ilvermorny. Watch yourself, I'm telling you-"
"Where are we going?" Someone further in the back shouted.
"Ohhh you'll see," One of the Thunderbird student covenors said.
Cliff's legs were started to get exhausted from the effort of shuffling down the stairs. Right when he thought they were going to give out from under him, the stone walls opened up, and the students found themselves filing into an impossibly large cave.
He could see himself in the reflection of the red crystal that made up the cavern bottom, which made Cliff's mouth water. It looked like crystallized strawberry glaze stretched infinitely below. Where the floor met the soaring sides, they turned into deep blue and, much less deliciously, opaque stone with spikes of light jutting out from them to illuminate the area.
Which Cliff was thankful for, because hundreds, or maybe even thousands, of wands floated lazily through the air, sometimes bouncing off a surface of the cavern but, amazingly, never bumping into each other.
"Hello hello!" A stout woman with weathered brown skin and fluttery pink robes was beckoning them forward. Fifty feet away, the Pukwudgies and Horned Serpents were emerging from their own stairwell and basking in the sights as well.
The Student Covenors shepherded the first years to form an audience before the woman in the pink robes. MacIntyre and Lunes gave the woman big hugs and warm regards while Professor Hollier stood well out of arms reach, not that his presence was acknowledged at all.
"This," Professor MacIntyre held up a hand to indicate the cave, "Is the Wand Hall. And she," she swept a hand to the woman who was waiting for them, "Is Miss Anetta Bonaplenty, once again graciously having agreed to perform the appraisals for our first-years."
"The wand chooses the witch or wizard," Ms. Bonaplenty said. "Take as much time as you need. Once you have yourselves a wand, bring it to me, and once you have my say so, you may join your schoolmates in the Dining Hall." When no one moved, she grabbed the shoulders of the two first-years closest to her, Dex Warbury and Undine Norwood, and practically shoved them deeper into the hall.
Dex, almost immediately, had a reddish wand smack against his forehead. He took it out of the air and Ms. Bonaplenty descended on him, closing the gap so fast he almost jumped out of his skin. She mimed a flowing gesture in the air, which Dex clumsily copied. The wand shot glowing blue wisps out of its end.
"First try?" Professor Lunes asked when she began nodding.
"First try," Ms. Bonaplenty said, taking the wand in her own hands and peering at it at eye-level. "Sequoia, thirteen and three-eighths inches, fairly bendy and a core of cerberus mane hair. A lucky, powerful wand for a lucky, potentially powerful wizard. That's a perfect match right there if I do say so myself. You can go, honey," Ms. Bonaplenty said.
Throwing triumphant looks at anyone who caught his eye, Dex disappeared up the stairs.
Everyone surged forward.
"Wow," Luccio said to the covenor next to him as Cliff went by, "Took me four tries to get her approval with my wand."
The wand hall could easily have fit double the number of Ilvermorny's students inside. Cliff tried to move toward a particularly interesting looking wand, but it seemed to glide just out of reach no matter how close he got.
"¡Ay!" Pilar Hererra, further down the hall, was massaging her eye with one hand and glaring at the wand she now held with her other. "This thing almost blinded me!"
"Fir, fourteen inches, pliable," Ms. Bonaplenty said, appearing so suddenly next to her that Pilar dropped the wand, but Ms. Bonaplenty plucked it out of the air. She turned it over a few times and grunted, unimpressed. "Core is... crystallized llorona tear." With a long look at Pilar, she shook her head and let go of the wand the same way you might release a baby bird. It floated off in a way that struck Cliff as a little sad.
"All that for nothing," Pilar muttered, still rubbing her eye as she tromped past Cliff.
Now more eager than ever, Cliff walked the length of the hall. The tall white boy who he'd walked down the stairs behind, Fallon Quartermaine, was being followed around the cave by the boy who'd been poking him, who Cliff could see now was the incredibly short Dante Quick.
"We're the only 'Q' last names in our entire grade, and we're in the same house! We pretty much have to be best friends!" Dante was saying. Fallon didn't respond. Almost absently, he spied a wand and held his hand out to it. It came to a rest in his palm and not a moment later Ms. Bonaplenty was on the pair of them.
Cliff tried holding his own hand out, and an interesting pale wand was drifting towards him when he heard a cry of, "There! See?"
He spun. Cecily and a crowd of girls were watching him. Some looked unconvinced, others were horrified.
"It's kinda dim in here-"
"I didn't see anything-"
"No! She's right! He did!"
Without a second glance at the wand, Cliff made a beeline to the other end of the cave, where Balthasar Faraday had four wands in each hand, all shooting off fireworks in every direction.
"One at a time!" One of the covenors was shouting at him. "Let some go!"
He seemed torn as to which to abandon, so Cliff made sure to give him plenty of space as he made his way around. He ended up next to one of the Thunderbird covenors, and behind him could see Cecily's group making their way toward him, but with the sparks of Balthasar's wands only becoming louder and more obnoxious, he decided to take the chance.
"Um, excuse me," he said.
"Yes, need any help?" She asked. The girl had warm brown skin, a matching smile and braided hair with blue, purple and pink beads in it.
"I have a question. What's 'sinister' mean?"
The temperature in her friendliness turned way down. "You don't know?"
"I overheard someone mention it and I was wondering." He said quickly.
"Ah, your parents must be No-majes. It's a stupid superstition," she said. "Complete doxy droppings about absorbing curses or becoming darkness or whatever. Definitely should have died out generations ago. Being left-handed doesn't make anyone more or less inclined to the Dark arts and it definitely doesn't make someone inherently evil. But you're too smart for any of that, right?"
Under the weight of her smile, Cliff tried to return one of his own, but was glad when she jetted off to free Pilar from a pair of wands fighting over her head that further stalled Cecily's group from making their way to him.
Being left-handed. That's all it was. It took Cliff minutes of aimless laps around the Wand Hall to even remember the last time he had ever thought about being left-handed. It had to have been when he had some issues using scissors in second grade and Wolfing had showered him in all kinds of special lefty equipment. Now, looking around, he could see other students reaching for wands and wands gliding toward them in turn or examining their new Ms. Bonaplenty approved wands. Even Balthasar had finally settled on one. And each and every one of them was using their right.
Only Professor Hollier had his own wand out, hanging lazily in his right hand at his side. Ms. Bonaplenty was looking Zafiyah Walid's wand, using her right to run her own along the base of the handle. And when she approved and handed it back, Zafiyah took it in her right.
His Dad had once told him that only ten percent of the population of the world was left handed. There was no way he was the only left-handed person in the school. Though, Cliff had never met anyone else who was left-handed... and... and maybe the reputation for evil in the magical world had come from somewhere.
"Third time's the charm," a voice in front of him said. Robinson Zhou was turning a wand over in his hands, looking apprehensive. When he looked up to get Ms. Bonaplenty's eye, who had joined the commotion Cecily's group was causing, he saw Cliff. This time, Cliff realized, his eyes flitted to his left hand. Cliff went to shove it in his pocket, and only then did Robinson meet his eyes before immediately rushing over to the nearest covenor.
It wasn't fair. Cliff had no control over being different from everyone in Wolfing, but then he got the opportunity of a lifetime with finding out he was different from them in a way so many other people were. But now, all because of something else Cliff had no control over, he was in danger of being actively outcasted all over again.
Slumping against the cavern wall, Cliff saw that interesting pale wand again. He glanced around - no one was looking at him. He reached out to it, and with a little leap of his heart, saw that it was coming toward him.
"Aha! See!"
Automatically, Cliff snatched his hand back and tried to look innocent.
"Cecily, was it? Please try to focus on your own wand appraisal," Ms. Bonaplenty was saying. "Mmm... no, this core of phoenix feather doesn't agree with you. Try something else." Out of the corner of his eye, Cliff could see Cecily and one of the girls she was with position themselves so they could still watch him from across the room as the other two half-paid attention to the wands around them.
Cliff stretched his right hand toward it. The pale wand dawdled in the air, and when Cliff stood up to try to get closer, it actually retreated higher.
"Come on," Cliff grumbled. "What's the difference?" But even as he took steps toward it, it only became further and further out of reach.
"Don't force it," Professor MacIntyre called to him. "Remember, 'the wand chooses the wizard,' Cliff!"
"But it was going to choose me," Cliff mumbled.
Leontine Daly had just been given Ms. Bonaplenty's seal of approval, but was taking as long as possible to leave the Wand Hall, throwing scowls Cliff's way. By this point, the crowd had thinned. Half, or maybe a third, of the students were still milling around trying to be chosen. Romiette Justice and Luccio were stomping out an ice-blue fire that she'd set from an ill-fitting wand. Firas Usman was showing his misshapen, pulsing orange hand, still clutched around a shaking wand, to Professor Hollier, who pawned him off on Professor Lunes. Cecily Silvias, trailed now by just one girl, was surveilling Cliff even as she was actively being chased around the hall by a steely gray wand. It got so obvious that Jazalyn stopped the pair of them, flagged down Ms. Bonaplenty and had her appraised.
"Pine, twelve inches, surprisingly swishy and a core of, oh, Erumpent horn shaving." She handed it back to a horrified looking Cecily. "Yours now and forevermore. You may leave."
The last girl that Cecily was conspiring with still shot him uneasy glances every now and then, but eventually she, too, all got a wand as well. Not one wand had made its way to Cliff yet, and it was clear even the teachers and covenors had started watching him with growing concern. Against their shouts of advice, he leapt to, grabbed for and snatched at wands with his right, and was evaded easily every time. More than once a wand that caught his eye would bounce resolutely against his closed left fist.
After almost half an hour, Robinson Zhou shuffled off with his own wand, leaving just a handful of students still desperately trying to be chosen. Balthasay Faraday wiped tears out of his eyes when Ms. Bonaplenty handed his new wand back with a quick nod. After Romiette Justice got the OK from Ms. Bonaplenty, all eyes were left on the only remaining first-year: Cliff.
Professor Hollier let off a loud, carrying yawn and stared pointedly at him. Cliff was practically jogging up and down the Wand Hall, but every wand seemed to be just out of his reach. What happened, he wondered, if no wand chose him? Would they assign him one? Or... or would they send him back down on the Air Ilvermorny? Would he be forced to go back to Wolfing? Would he never get to study magic?
An icy pit opened in his stomach, he was finding it hard to keep moving on his shaking legs.
And then he felt something solid hit his palm. His fingers closed around the handle of a bluish dark wand. Ms. Bonaplenty practically materialized next to him, eyebrows knit.
"Blackthorn, eleven and a quarter inches, unbending," she said, making no effort to hide a concerned glance at him. "Core of bird-of-paradise tail feather."
"Is that bad? I saw those in a bird book once-"
"Mm. No, my dear, somewhat like the No-majes' inclination to call the Diricawl a 'Dodo', a magical bird-of-paradise is a completely different beast from any you'll have seen or heard of before now. I'll say this: your generation is full of interesting prospects. Go and get eating, honey - we're done with this Wandering."