As he shut the door, fire in brackets started to light up around the room, casting a warm, cosy orange glow. I hopped out of bed and pulled some clothes out of my wardrobe. Hunter was still so sleepy he put his trousers on back to front. We all joined Magisteer Partington in the hallway outside.
“Ah well done boys, two minutes and fifty-four seconds. Right, lets go and get the girls up.” As we followed him along the corridors, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Fire in brackets popped on as we walked, lighting the hallways a fiery orange. I wondered what time it was. It had to be early.
None of us were sure why our new form tutor had chosen to take us out now, for none of the other new years were up, we heard them snoring as we passed.
After waiting nearly five minutes for the girl’s, they finally emerged looking bleary eyed and confused. Magisteer Partington took us down a long winding staircase to the main hall, where he stopped and turned. In the new light I saw he had a face like an owl. A long beaky nose with round spectacles and a thin, almost non-existent mouth.
“Now, I do this every year, take my new form on an explore of the school, then we will go and have breakfast in our classroom.” he pushed the door wide and stepped out into the dark morning.
I mean, this could have been anyone, how did we know this was our form tutor?
We walked along this tiny stone path around the school grounds. After a few minutes Simon sidled up to me and muttered. “That was you getting scared by the chamber pot ghost wasn’t it?” I nodded stiffly, hoping no one else heard. Simon just sort of laughed. What was he getting at?
“I thought you Blackthorns were supposed to be… I dunno… hard.”
“Yeah well, took me by surprise.” I wanted to say something clever, but couldn't. It was too early. Simon sneered, clearly he thought he was better than me, just because he wasn’t scared by a ghost.
Magisteer Partington breathed in the cool morning air. “Ahh, I love early mornings, the quiet, the serene beauty. When it gets warmer, we will be able to do some lessons outside.” He said, then jumped as a small tree nearest him stretched, yawning wide.
We walked all the way around the huge school grounds. Robin was counting the windows under his breath, I don’t know why. As the sun started rising, Dawn began speaking. How strange, that Dawn should come alive at dawn.
“Oh wow, there’s a huge greenhouse. What do we do in there, Magisteer Partyton?”
“Well, Magical studies stretch to more than just waving our hands around and saying funny words,” he laughed. “And… it’s err… Partington actually.”
“And!” she carried on. “I heard that the sycamores gather when it’s someone’s birthday and sing the ancient songs of birthday cycles. Is that true?”
“Yes, if they like you…”
“Oh!” she burst. “How do you make them like you?”
“Well, just like people, they get a feeling for someone.”
I didn’t know the sycamore trees but I had a feeling that they would find Dawn very annoying. Robin raised his eyebrows at me, he was thinking the same, I just knew it.
The grounds were huge. Magisteer Partington pointed to a place just off the horizon where the grounds ended. It was a mix of forest and open green land separated by large green hedge that moved. Beyond the hedge was a cliff edge and by all accounts a very long drop. Off to the left and down the hill was a stadium with a big chequered pitch, I was going to ask what it was for, but Dawn was asking a rather exasperated Partington whether sycamores liked being hugged or stroked.
As we started walking back round the back of the school, the sun began streaming over the horizon. In some of the windows I could see some people moving around, the rest of the school was rising.
“Right off to form,” announced Partington.
He led us back into the school, through the huge main doors then up and up and up, to our form classroom. We started walking up this circling staircase and I had a small feeling we were going up the large centre spire. I was going a little dizzy with the amount of circles we did and the air felt thinner up here. I cursed, if we had a classroom with a long drop I wouldn’t be happy. I hated heights.
“Here we are,” he led us out of the staircase (finally), into another small hallway. Everything in this place was stone. But the floors were lined with rugs, all higglede-pigglede, with thick drapes covering the walls. Our form room was on the left through the first door. There were a couple of other doors, but they looked empty and unused. We all piled into our new classroom, it smelt dusty and there was a faint whiff of mould, but it was cosy and these great big, dark oak tables with high backed intricately carved chairs. There were windows, at the back, and when I looked out I went a little dizzy, but it wasn’t as high as I thought. Perhaps five or six floors. I could just about handle that. Hunter immediately stuck his head out the window and looked up.
“Woah! There’s clouds up there!”
“Get in child!” called Partington. “Jeez… Right, breakfast!” Partington clapped his hands and a huge platter of food burst into existence on the desks.
We all stood around chatting and eating, the food was really good! All around the outside of the room were these strange objects, most of them with large dusty cloths over them. On the walls were display boards of previous years work: above the blackboard was a display about the Phonetics of Spellwork, to the left, near another window was a display of magical artwork based on the famous Wizard Jermain, and behind us were examples of A star written work essays.
Partington made us go around and say our names again. Taking some paper he stretched out his hand, a pen zoomed into it and he started writing all our names down. Rather informally we kind of stood around and said where we were from and stuff. When I said I was a Blackthorn, he kind of looked at me with half a smile.
“Ah yes, you’re the Blackthorn who isn’t evil? I remember you from the introduction.”
“Yeah, he isn’t evil alright, he screamed at the chamber pot ghost last night,” said Simon and everyone laughed, I could have punched him.
“They do take a bit of getting used to,” said Partington democratically, then asked us if we had any questions for him, so we stood and tried to think of some. “I will be taking you for most of your lessons in the first year, teaching you the basics and what not, but you will have specialised lessons with other Magisteers around the school, only one at first but then others…”
“Is it true that we start at 7am?” said Jess. I couldn't help staring at her red lips, they were so red it was ridiculous.
“Yes. But from 7am to 8am you will be in here doing homework or such like, we call it the warm up hour.”
“What is that pitch over there?” I said pointing out the window to the chequered pitch in the distance.
“That’s the Riptide pitch, we will be playing a match on there at some stage.”
“What’s Riptide?” said Hunter.
“It’s the Magic sport of course…” said Dawn as if it was blindingly obvious, Hunter shrugged.
“Right, any more questions?” said Partington. “I will get you your timetables…”
I needed to ask him about not having half the right equipment, a channeller and robes but I didn’t want to look stupid. He must have noticed because he looked at me. “Avis?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Erm… I don’t have any Ever-changing robes, tie, or channeller.” Everyone in the room frowned, maybe thinking I was joking.
“Right,” said Partington confused, then said delicately. “Did you lose them?”
“No,” I said looking at the floor, wishing they’d all look away. I should have approached Partington on his own.
“Well… ok… we’ll have to sort some out then, won’t we? May I ask why you didn't get any?” he said softly.
Everyone looked at me and my face went and burned all bright red, which was even more embarrassing. “Erm… well, my parents… they didn’t… I never erm… they didn’t get me any…” I mumbled.
&
nbsp; The silence was horrible. They were all judging me, I could sense it.
“Did you say your name was Avis… Avis Blackthorn?”
“Yes,” I said curtly, because I could sense what he was thinking - Blackthorn’s had a reputation, we had gold and influence so he was clearly wondering why my parents hadn’t got me anything ready for school.
“They kind of hate me,” I said, trying to offer him an answer. “They are all evil and I am not.”
“I see…” he smiled a bit, pleased, I think. “Okay, go with one of the ghosts to the lost property room and get the stuff you need. I am sure you parents will sort out what you need in time…”
Simon sniggered. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea sending Avis off with a ghost sir…” some of the girls laughed now, and I tell you I could have chucked him clean out that window, if I wasn’t so nice.
Partington had a funny little device on his desk that looked halfway between a little bell and a pepper pot. He shook the little thing and inside this white mist began to form, then it shot out into the room. This transparent man, all haughty and dead looking, said impatiently.
“Yeaass?”
“Impkus, can you take Avis here to lost property and see if we can find him some Ever-changing robes, tie, and channeller?”
Impkus, the ghost, nodded slowly then floated off through the door. Partington indicated for me to follow. I sighed, glad of a reason to leave the room and had to run to keep up with the ghost who sailed off down the winding staircase. I followed as best I could as he darted into a main corridor, then straight through a large tapestry. I went under it and followed the glowing white light down three flights of stairs. It was cold down here.
“These are the dungeons…” said Impkus. “Don’t make a habit of coming down here too often, unless you want to end up like me.”
I didn’t know what he meant, it was dark and damp but I couldn't see any danger or way of being murdered.
He zapped through a big metal door to the left, then pushed it open for me from the inside. The lost property room was bigger than I thought and full to the brim with stuff piled up as high as the eye could see. The smell was an overpowering aroma of centuries old dust, something dead and rotten, mixed with a fifty year old broken bottle of Butterfly perfume.
“So you need some Ever-changing robes?” said Impkus chucking an enormous cardboard box to the ground in front of me. I had a short coughing fit as the plumes of dust went up my nose. Inside the box was a mass of tangled silky black ever-changing robes. He made me search through them and boy they stank! I found a few that fitted ok, but they just smelt so bad I had to put them back. Eventually I picked out the only one that didn't smell of mouldy feet and put it on. It was miles too big and the bottom trailed on the floor behind me, but it didn’t smell.
“This one will do,” I said as the colours changed. The black faded into this horrible bright turquoise just like the carpet in our dorm room.
“Here’s a tie,” said Impkus, handing me this thing that looked like a chewed up and, very dead, snakeskin. He noticed my hesitation and huffed. “A tie’s a tie’s a tie.” I took it and stuffed it in my robe’s pocket, glancing around to see if there were any others I could quickly take, but there were none in sight. There were lots of old rusty cauldrons, dented kettles and things floating in jars but no spare ties.
Next, he chucked me this clear plastic box that jangled as it slid towards my feet. Inside was the biggest collection of dirty, broken, or discarded channellers I had ever seen.
“Which one would you like?”
“One that works preferably.” I felt really depressed as I stood there. I had one of the most influential families in all the Seven Magical Kingdom’s and here I was, in a dungeon with a ghost, choosing, not even a second hand, but a discarded channeller. Channellers are supposed to be sacred to the user. In our culture it’s like a ceremony that you go and you try all these channellers on. Rings, amulets and pendants are all presented to you depending on your personality, star sign and numerological value of your name. The one that’s right for you kind of… feels right, sometimes it heats up, other times it does something else. When Wendice got her channeller from Mardies (this posh channeller shop) this ring she put on spouted a vision of a man’s face who told her that this was the ring for her. (I think it was a scam, because it cost loads). Ross’s channeller was a pendant that my Granddad gave him, Ross was his favourite somehow, but when Ross put it on the whole room lit up. Frankly, I wasn’t expecting the same thing to happen to me here in this dank dungeon with this impatient ghost. Still, I took my time and lay out my final three choices:
• A gold ring with a picture of a skull on it.
• A sticky pendant with a glass circle inside the pewter.
• This dirty, thick silver amulet, with all these dark markings.
Impkus looked at my choices, and immediately said — “Don’t put that ring on!” he promptly took it and threw it somewhere down the bottom of the room. That left two.
“This pendant looks ok,” said Impkus. “Oh no… you see this sticky substance? That’s channeller blood, when the owner blew his spark using too much Magic it killed the channeller too.”
So that left me with the grubby silver amulet. I gave it a polish with my robes and slipped it on my wrist. I don’t know what I was expecting; fireworks, trumpets and a marching band maybe? Needless to say, none of that happened. Not even close. There was a rather loud puffing noise and the amulet blew out a circle of smoke. Like a tired out man, breathing out a lung full of stale cigar smoke.
That was it. I waited, Impkus waited. But nothing else happened. They do say if the channeller doesn’t like you, then the Magic you do will be ineffectual. I thought about having another root around in the box, but Impkus picked it up and threw it before I had chance. It sailed over a shelf and landed with a crash. He pushed me out the room and led the way back to the classroom, I followed nearly tripping on my new robes.
When I got back to class, everyone else had their robes, ties and channellers on and were all comparing. They laughed at me when I walked in. Their robes all fitted perfectly, stopping just before the ankles. As I was shorter than everyone else in the room anyway, I now looked like a leprechaun.
Partington was admiring Ellen’s channeller, which was a rather extravagant pendant of silver-gold entwined with a polished pearl face. Grettle asked her how the Outsiders get their Channellers.
“Well it was strange,” said Ellen, who was coming out of her shell. “The day after we replied to the letter saying I would be attending, this funny man turned up on the doorstep with a brown suitcase full of channellers. We sat down with him in the living room and he proceeded to show me all these different types. Anyway, when I put this pendant on, the TV blew up! And he said I should take that one.”
The whole room Ooooed. I didn’t. It wasn’t that impressive. To tell you the truth, I think I was a bit jealous. Out there somewhere in a shop, or a man’s suitcase, was my true channeller.
Robin had this thin bracelet kind of thing, made of bronze. Hunter had a signet ring which he proudly waved around at every opportunity. Simon was slightly embarrassed of his and didn’t want to show it off much. When I looked closer I had to laugh. He was wearing a thick pearl necklace. I sniggered as he kept it hidden as best he could under his top.
“And er…” said Simon, sidling up to Partington and whispering. “What do we do if our channeller probably isn’t what we were expecting? Can we get another?”
“Oh no, not very likely,” said Partington.
I laughed, then realised that I had a Channeller that was probably useless. At least his worked.
Jess, Dawn, Grettle, Joanna and Dennis were in one corner inspecting Florence’s beautiful ring. I could hear Dennis exclaiming “Oh isn’t it beautiful… it’s so lovely, your hand fits it perfectly.”
I helped myself to another apricot croissant and sat down on my own. After a minute, listening to them all rabb
iting on about their channellers, Partington approached.
“Here, you’ll need these,” he handed me a smart white shirt and a sheet of parchment with my timetable on it.
“Thank you Sir.”
Partington turned to the class again. “Oh, I forgot to say, house rules… at night, leave your dirty washing in the dirty washing cotton bags that will appear on the end of your bed. The laundry ghosts will collect them at some point in the night.” Simon was about to say something, but I raised my eyebrows and smiled, stroking my neck softly. I think he knew what I was about to say, because he promptly shut his mouth, tucking his pearl necklace further under his shirt.
I was a little concerned that all the other guys had made quite good friends with each other already. Robin left the table where I was sat and went over to Graham and they started laughing and talking together, like two people that had always been friends. I made a bit of effort, I went over and tried to mingle, at the same time wondering how long this free time was going to last. I approached Jess and Florence who were talking about their timetable.
“Hiya,” I said.
“Hey,” they chorused.
“Did you get your channeller then?” said Jess.
“I got a channeller yeah,” I smiled, they both sort of nodded and no one said anything.
Jess turned back to Florence. “So… what classes did you put in for?” and they began talking to each other about how exciting it was to be doing Practical Magic at last. I stood, awkwardly for a minute, then kind of backed out. I was getting that sinking feeling again. I thought this place would be different, I wasn’t expecting to be popular exactly, but just not so wildly unpopular as I had been before.
After this free time, where I mainly tried to enter conversations and failed, I sat on my own, staring at my timetable as if it would provide me with some thrilling conversation. Partington said we were to go down to the Chamber where we would be able to mingle with other years and forms.
Ergh, more of this? Really?
He told us to dress smartly, so I pulled the tie out of my pocket and put it on. It hang loose, crumpled, and turned a pale, grubby turquoise. The new white shirt Partington gave me was also a little big and the collar left a huge gap. I didn’t look, or feel smart as Partington had asked, in fact I’d have felt smarter wearing a gnome costume.
Avis Blackthorn: Is Not an Evil Wizard! Page 4
