by E. M. Cooper
The guests strode and shuffled into the room and dragged chairs out to sit around the table.
‘What are they wearing?’ Marnie whispered.
Seb shook his head.
‘Even the men are wearing dresses.’ Puzzled, Marnie watched as Mr Arnold rang a small crystal bell and held his hands up as though to quieten his guests, who were now seated around the large round table.
An old man with long grey hair and beard pushed his chair back, grunting and grumbling as he struggled to stand. ‘Greetings, everyone. Welcome to the July assembly of the Downfell Chapter of Northern England’s Wizarding Elite.’
‘What a mouthful,’ Marnie whispered.
‘I trust those of you from the north had a pleasant journey here this evening. I understand a demonic downdraft made flights hairy in the south.’
‘I got caught up in it,’ said a dark-browed man with a long silver plait dangling down his back over his fur-trimmed jacket. ‘I’d spent days collecting a sack of truffles in Cornwall—lost the lot of them over the Pennines when my broom went into a spin.’
‘Oh dear, I’m sorry for your loss, Finbar,’ the old grey-haired man said, ‘yet be grateful it wasn’t your life and I’m sure the Pennine folk will be grateful for a heaven-sent supper.’
The group tittered and giggled, but Finbar wasn’t amused.
‘Cheer up; I hear the airways will be free of celestial interference after midnight.’ The grey-haired man cleared his throat and leant on the table. ‘Now straight to business because I realise you’re busy people. As you know, I‘m stepping down from the presidency and we’re here to elect a new leader.’ He chuckled. ‘As you’d all agree, one hundred years is enough time in leadership for anyone. I believe our organisation is in need of new wizarding blood.’
‘We’ll miss yer,’ said an elderly man with thick glasses and great, gnarly-knuckled hands from the other side of the table.
The gathering burst into a round of enthusiastic clapping and cheering.
With the mention of wizarding blood, Marnie realised they were playing games and covered her mouth to stop herself from laughing aloud.
Seb put his finger to his mouth for Marnie to be quiet.
‘Wot will yer do with yerself, Thigimus?’
‘Originally my intention was to curate my moth collection, do a little time travel and attend to my neglected roses. However, I’ve been summoned to Fanglewick and will be taking up residence as a professor in the new term.’
‘They’d be lucky to ’ave yer,’ the gnarly-knuckled man said.
Thigimus dipped his head and nodded as though embarrassed by the attention and praise. ‘Thank you, Chester. I’ll be busy teaching alchemy and potions. I hope I’ll be of use to them.’
‘Aghh, you’re too modest,’ Chester said.
A gaunt elderly woman with a fuzz of white hair about her dark face stood and when the applause settled, spoke in a powerful voice. ‘Thank you, President Thigimus. We are indebted to you for your outstanding leadership over the past century. You’ll be sorely missed. I remember—’
‘Yes, yes, thank you, Mage Fairstar. You’re too kind,’ Thigimus interrupted gently. ‘Now, Mage Arnold, would you please prepare the scrying table, so we might get on with the election.’
Mr Arnold spouted a weird string of words before waving his hand at the table. The guests chatted to each other, ignoring him as though this was normal behaviour.
Tears ran down Marnie’s cheeks and her body shook as she tried desperately to contain her laughter. As the pair watched from the platform, a strange ripple spread across the table. Marnie stopped giggling and rubbed her eyes, thinking they had to be tired or blurred. Stunned, she realised the tabletop had changed to water—a shimmery, bubbling expanse of vivid yet transparent blue liquid. She glanced at Seb with wide eyes although he didn’t seem shocked.
‘You see it, don’t you?’ Marnie whispered.
Seb nodded. ‘Shh, listen.’
Thigimus clambered to his feet again and groaned as though his bones were grating on each other with the effort. ‘Has everyone cast their vote? Raise your hand if you haven’t.’ He checked around the table. ‘Excellent. Would everyone pitch your votes now, please?’
The wizards threw their pieces of paper into the pool and the water grew cloudy and choppy as though it was devouring the scraps. When the water had calmed and cleared, Thigimus reached into the water and withdrew a dripping wad. He muttered some foreign words and blew into his hands before holding a dry sheet of paper for all to see.
Thigimus frowned for a moment and then coughed before he spoke. ‘Congratulations, Professor Zachary Arnold, you’re officially our new president.’
Surprised faces greeted the announcement followed by an awkward pause. Thigimus clapped and the gathering dutifully followed his lead with a wave of subdued applause.
Mr Arnold nodded with an expression of surprise and delight that Marnie knew was false. ‘Thank you, thank you. I’m humbled to be your new president and will serve you to the utmost of my ability.’
Marnie pretended to gag.
‘Now before supper is served, there’s another pressing although pleasant announcement I want to make,’ Mr Arnold continued. ‘My young son, Charlie has come of wizarding age and will soon be crossing over to the Old World for his entrance exams to the Fanglewick School of Magic. I thought this might be the perfect opportunity to introduce him to you, his esteemed elders.’
Many in the group nodded smugly.
‘A mere formality, I’m sure,’ Thigimus said.
Mage Fairstar nodded in agreement. ‘No doubt with such a venerated wizard as his father, Charlie will top the class and have first choice of specialties at the Imporium.’
‘Here, here,’ Finbar said.
Since they had elected Mr Arnold president, Marnie noticed everyone seemed to be falling over themselves to flatter and please him.
‘Excuse me,’ a young blonde wizard in a purple gown with owl-like eyes said in a tentative voice. ‘Has anyone felt a strange presence in the room? It’s been bothering me all evening.’ She scratched at her forearms as though the presence was eating her skin away.
Sister Fairstar frowned at her. ‘Goodness me, Agnes, you psychics are like dragon hatchlings in a goblin gold mine.’
‘What?’ Marnie mouthed.
Seb shook his head.
‘Good reason tonight, I’d say.’ Thigimus smiled sympathetically at Agnes. ‘That demonic leakage has done more than create turbulence in the broomstick altitudes. A few sensory types like you were on the blower complaining to me this afternoon. Thank the worlds the vermin sizzle when the oxygen gets too high.’
‘Unless they’re summoned,’ Sister Fairstar said in an eerie voice.
Agnes shuddered.
‘Don’t talk about the critters,’ said Chester looking at Agnes. ‘Can’t yer see yer upsetting the lass?’
Obviously embarrassed by the attention, Agnes managed a half smile but glanced nervously about her and when she snatched another look in Marnie and Seb’s direction, both of them ducked their heads and flattened their bodies on the platform.
‘I think she meant us,’ Seb said quietly.
Mr Arnold reached for a metal bell and rang it loudly. The study doors swung open and Charlie emerged with a beaming smile as though he and his father had rehearsed his grand entrance.
‘What a beautiful boy,’ a wizard seated beside Mr Arnold declared.
‘Ee’s a cherub,’ Chester said loudly. ‘Yer must be proud, Zachary.’
Marnie rolled her eyes at Seb.
Agnes scratched furiously at her forearms as though she was sensing something else.
Charlie stood at his father’s side and bowed his head as though modest and polite.
‘What a joke,’ Marnie whispered.
Thigimus called Charlie to his side. ‘I give you my blessing, young Master Arnold and hope you’ll do the Downfell chapter proud. Mark my words, it won’t be easy, but with
your parents’ blood, I’m certain you’ll shine.’
‘Hear, hear,’ declared a thin wizard with straggly dark hair and massive hands and feet protruding from his robes as though he’d outgrown them.
Thigimus leaned over to open a bag at his feet. A white cat emerged, yowling before it leapt into his lap. ‘Apologies Arty, I didn’t realise you’d come along for the ride. ‘He rummaged in the bag and unearthed a slender stick, which he handed to Charlie. ‘Consider this a gift from the chapter.’
‘Thank you, sir, it’s superb,’ Charlie said in a grovelling tone.
‘Why’s he so happy to be given a stick?’ Marnie whispered.
‘It’s a wand for conjuring magic.’
Marnie frowned. ‘But magic isn’t real.’
Seb didn’t reply.
Charlie held the stick aloft and swished it in the air, making Arty hiss and spring from Thigimus’ lap before hiding under his chair.
‘Careful there.’ Thigimus chortled. ‘You don’t want to unleash any accidental magic.’
‘Sorry, sir,’ Charlie said. ‘It’s just so exciting to have my own wand.’
‘Once you’re there, they’ll teach you all you need to know. I believe Bengt Silas is in charge of wand craft next term ... an excellent teacher ... young but prodigiously talented.’
‘They only take the best at Fanglewick—students and staff,’ Mage Fairstar said.
‘Probably best to lock the wand away before you go to Fanglewick,’ Thigimus said.
Charlie nodded with an angelic expression. ‘Yes, sir, I’ll be very careful. I’ll think of you and the chapter when I use it and while I’m studying to be the best wizard I can.’
Thigimus smiled approvingly.
After Mr Arnold rang his bell again, three butlers dressed in formal black and white uniforms entered the study and flitted between each of the guests serving them hot soup, crusty bread and the little cakes Marnie had helped Clara make in the kitchen. Once they had finished supper, Mr Arnold poured his guests smoking green liquid from a couple of tall bottles. Once they’d imbibed a few glasses, their conversation and laughter grew louder and more jovial.
Bored, Marnie and Seb lay on the platform trying to stay awake while waiting for the wizards to finish their supper. For a few hours the wizards continued to drink, talk and laugh loudly until one by one they left the meeting. Hours later, Marnie woke to darkness and discovered the wizards had gone. She shook Seb and both of them crept down the ladder. Before they tiptoed from the study, Marnie poked the tabletop but was disappointed to find it was an ordinary wooden table again.
When she had returned safely to her attic room, Marnie climbed into bed yet tossed and turned, while staring at the bright stars and billowing white clouds through the skylight, trying to make sense of the crazy yet exciting events of the evening.
* * *
CHAPTER 4
Downtown Downfell
Morning dawned in Downfell, bright, cold and clear. After Marnie and Seb had finished chores and breakfast, Mrs Arnold gave them permission to go downtown. Charlie and Mr Arnold didn’t emerge, so Marnie and Seb hurried from the house before they woke and interfered. Marnie strode beside Seb under a row of stark birch trees and down the bitumen path lined by oversized houses and formal gardens although none as grand as the Arnolds’ mansion. The smell of fresh baked bread wafted on the breeze from the shops beyond the church, enticing Marnie in that direction to enjoy the aroma.
‘Did we dream it, about the wizards, I mean?’ Marnie said.
‘No.’ Seb was quiet for a few moments before he confessed. ‘Actually, I do know more about the Arnolds and their friends.’
Marnie waited for bells swinging in a tower over the nearby church to stop tolling and watched as well dressed locals hurried to their Sunday service. ‘What did you say?’
Seb thrust his hands in his pockets and answered in a low tone as though worried someone might hear. ‘Everyone in the house knows about the Arnolds—but they’re scared to speak about them.’
Marnie stopped dead in the street outside Downfell Community School and sat on a low brick wall. Mist billowed from her mouth as she breathed heavily and stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘No need to suffer in the cold. Come on, we’ll go to the library around the corner.’
‘You like reading?’
‘Aye, and it’s the best place to escape the Arnolds. It’s safe there and the real reason I wanted to get you out of the house.’ Seb wrapped his arms around his bony frame. ‘And better still, it’s warm.’
‘Safe? What do you mean exactly?’
‘Come on, you have to meet the librarian.’
‘I’m not really familiar with libraries.’
‘You don’t read much?’
‘I can’t.’ For some reason it didn’t bother her telling him this.
‘How come? You went to school at St Augustine’s, didn’t you?’
‘Of course. Well, I can read, but I have trouble seeing words and keeping them still long enough to read them as a whole. For some reason, numbers are different because I keep them in my head.’
‘Oh.’ Seb grinned at her. ‘That’s even more of a reason to meet the librarian, Theodore Mystilic.’
‘They thought I was stupid at the orphanage. I think that’s why Miss Baxter chose me to come to the Arnolds to be trained as a maid.’
‘Don’t be so sure.’ Seb loped along until they reached a large building. ‘This is the library.’
Marnie followed Seb up red brick steps and waited as he pushed open opaque glass doors to the library entrance. Inside, a rush of warmth greeted them along with the distinctive smell of dust and books.
‘He’s upstairs,’ Seb said.
‘Why are you whispering?’
‘We’re not safe until we’re there.’
Marnie was beginning to think Seb was playing a practical joke and the Arnolds were in on it. How else could she rationalise what had happened the previous evening? She followed him up steps covered in worn carpet. When they reached the next floor, Seb knocked five times sharply on the door.
Marnie shook her head as though tiring of his joke. ‘Now you’re being ridiculous.’ But someone was coming. Listening to their footsteps approaching and old music filtering through the walls, Marnie suddenly felt inexplicably nervous. The door squeaked open, and a small ancient man bent over a knobbly stick ushered them into a room with overstuffed sofas, comfortable chairs and a window from ceiling to floor that overlooked the city.
‘Greetings, Seb. It’s been a while,’ the man said in an ancient voice.
‘Hi, Theo.’
The man’s spine cracked as he straightened. After tapping his forehead sharply with his stick and tossing it into the corner, a puff of green smoke enveloped him. Coughing, he emerged but now wore a sleek grey gown and dark cloak and towered over Seb and Marnie. ‘You never know who might be visiting. Downfell isn’t the quiet haven it used to be.’ His voice had changed too from a feeble breathy one to a deep strong tone.
Stunned, Marnie stared at the man with glossy black hair flowing to his shoulders, a strong square jaw and dark blue eyes. He now seemed much younger, perhaps forty or so. ‘How ... how did you do that?’
No one seemed to hear her.
Seb prodded Marnie forwards. ‘I’ve brought a new friend.’
Despite her head still reeling with shock, Marnie felt heartened to be called a friend of Seb’s even though they knew little of each other.
‘The Arnolds’ latest?’
Seb nodded.
‘Humph, they’re incorrigible.’
‘My name is Marnie Speck.’
‘Welcome, dear child, I’m Mage Theodore Mystilic, but please call me Theodore or Theo if you’d prefer.’
She noticed a swarm of iridescent beetles running up the window outside.
Mystilic waved a hand at them casually. ‘They’ve leaked into Downfell, but they’re harmless. It’s the magic that attracts them.�
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Baffled, Marnie watched the beetles disperse.
‘We witnessed a gathering of the chapter last night,’ Seb said in a confident tone.
Seb seemed to grow in stature and demeanour, making Marnie suspect there was more to this boy than he had first let on.
‘What are the old buzzards up to now?’ Mystilic asked.
‘Charlie’s heading off to Fanglewick soon.’
‘Already?’
Seb nodded.
‘It must be close then.’ Mystilic rubbed his chin as though deep in thought. ‘How’s your study progressing?’
‘I don’t know if I’ll be ready. It’s difficult to find the time between chores and prying eyes.’
‘You need to stay positive. Soon they’ll be irrelevant if you can pull this off.’
‘I know, but I’m only halfway through the prep book.’
‘Stop,’ Marnie said. ‘Please stop talking over my head like I’m invisible.’
Mage Mystilic startled. ‘My apologies, dear. Take a seat and we’ll try to make this more sane and rational for you.’
Marnie glanced around the room at the muddle of books piled high on the polished wooden floor, overflowing drawers, half-empty coffee mugs and curls of orange peel lying on a dirty dinner plate. As she sat on the couch, something squeaked and rushed from under a cushion close to her. ‘What was that thing?’
‘Horace, my hamster. He sleeps under the cushions and I keep forgetting he’s there.’
‘I’ve never seen one before.’
‘Here’s the thing,’ the mage began, ‘Downfell isn’t like anywhere else and the Arnolds’ house is even more extraordinary.’
‘She knows they’re wizards,’ Seb murmured. ‘We hid in the library and heard the chapter meeting.’
‘Very resourceful,’ Mystilic said approvingly. ‘Ah, well, that makes it easier.’
Magic, wizards and strange beetles—it was all too much. Marnie suddenly felt tired and heavy and as though her brain had floated out the window.
Mystilic smiled at her. ‘Don’t fret, Marnie. I promise you, it will all get easier.’
‘They elected Mr Arnold president last night,’ Seb said.
