by J B Black
“Saw you left this behind,” the wizard drawled in a posh accent. The same one Gilroy had; however, for some reason, it sounded better in the man’s deep timbre. “I thought you might want it.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, William kept one foot on the other side of the door to keep it from swinging open wider for the wizard to see the mess of his clothes on the bed. “It isn’t mine.”
Standing up from where he leaned, the man ran his hands over the fabric. He offered a small smile — almost shy — as he added, “Well, I had hoped you would keep it.”
“You put that on me,” William asked, frowning.
With a slight nod, the wizard glanced up, dragging his eyes from William’s lips to his eyes before looking away as if embarrassed to be caught. “You looked cold. I see you working near the window, and the warding is a bit off in the corner. It can get freezing at night, especially once winter hits.” When William’s eyes narrowed, the other laughed. “Yeah, that sounded bad even to me. I — I’m Nicholas Blythe. Third year alchemy under Workneh.”
“Didn’t think any wizard wanted to get near the warlock freak,” William grumbled, tilting his head as he studied the man from head to foot. Something was off, but he couldn’t tell what it was that told him so.
Nicholas shrugged. “Most wizards live in closed communities. My parents wanted me to be better adjusted, so I went to a mortal preparatory academy until I was of age to come to Aelion.”
“Well, that explains the jeans.”
Another full laugh that echoed up and down the halls as if the man didn’t know what subtle meant. “Normally, I’m a bit too shy to wear them. You’ve probably noticed modern clothes stand out.”
“Three of the students in my course use quills,” William retorted, and when Nicholas laughed, he found himself chuckling in response.
“Ignore them. You’re doing brilliantly,” the man assured. “By second semester, they’ll see you aren’t going anywhere, and things will get easier.”
With a scoff, the warlock rolled his eyes. “I’m supposed to believe this will get better in two months?”
The older man ran a hand through his rose gold locks. “You don’t have to believe me. Anyway, who says it can’t get better now?” He held out the knit blanket like an olive branch. “This old thing isn’t much. I’d rather get you something better, but...you don’t strike me as the type who is in this for the money.”
“I’m practically stoic in my utilitarianism,” the warlock drawled, causing the wizard to laugh again. Still, as much comfort as William found in the blanket when he woke with it wrapped around his shoulders, his gut told him to refuse it. “How about we forget the blanket and just call us friends?”
Nicholas grinned, bright and wide and with perfectly white teeth. “Brilliant. Even better.”
“Oh, I’m William — though you probably already know that,” the warlock said, reaching out for a handshake.
However, the wizard took his hand, turning it to press a kiss to the back as his bright eyes bore into William’s own. “My pleasure, I assure you.”
If wizards found that seductive, they were incredible prudes. The touch of lips to the back of his hand made William’s skin crawl. Resisting the urge to rub the area against his jeans, the warlock offered a tight smile.
“Well, have a good night.”
Nicholas smiled. “Sleep well.”
Shutting the door, William cringed, making a face as he rubbed his hand against his shirt. Despite the prickle in his skin from the wizard’s ridiculousness, hope flooded the warlock’s chest, filling it with warmth which he quickly pushed aside. Spending energy to convert whatever interest Nicholas had in him to friendship cost more than that good will would gain him in the end if he couldn’t beat out Ælfweard. Even if Nicholas were Workneh’s current student, interest like his remained fickle. Rejection soured those affections, and putting energy into someone like that would only serve to be the seductive temptation the wizards whispered about him being. The rumors he wanted to disprove.
Locking the door, William returned to his work, weaving a side dimension into his wardrobe, and once it was completed, he pulled the desk he brought from home and a few other pieces of furniture from his bottomless bag to place into the bubble realm he created.
“If McCoy wants a detailed description of lead transmogrification, I’ll give him the most detailed perspective he’s ever had,” the warlock swore as he set to work.
Chapter Eight
Rushing down in the early hours toward the kitchen, Ælfweard smiled at the cooks who waved him in.
“Thank you, Nellie!” he called, grabbing what he could before they sent it to the tables.
Round and rosy cheeked, Nelli laughed. “Better hurry, the library opens in fifteen minutes.”
With an armful of food, Ælfweard raced back to the tower, wishing not for the first time that he had a talent for teleportation. Whenever he tried, he almost always ended up injuring himself or ending up in the wrong place, but he arrived at the alchemy library with a smile. Outside the library door, William sat, scribbling away in his notebook. His dark brows furrowed as he muttered.
Blanket aside, none of Ælfweard’s prior attempts to help William ended well. His mind buzzed with possibilities. Heading toward the warlock, the blond wizard smiled despite the glare leveled on him.
“The dining hall isn’t opened,” William murmured.
“I talked with the cooks,” Ælfweard explained. “They let me get some food beforehand.”
Eyebrows raising, William huffed, “Lucky you.”
“They’d probably do it for you too.”
Closing his notebook, William snorted. His quicksilver eyes pierced the wizard in place. “Really? The wizards in the kitchen will give the warlock food early?”
“Not everyone is upset about a warlock being in Aelion,” Ælfweard argued. He held out a plate. “Besides, they gave me enough for two.”
William shoved his notebook away, standing and staring down the blond wizard. “I’m not some feral cat you can lure with food.”
“I’m the eldest of seven — soon to be eight. Think of it as you benefiting from a lifetime of meddling,” Ælfweard suggested, and he offered the warlock a plate. When William stood without taking the plate, the wizard’s smile waned, but he struggled to keep it in place on his face. “Please?” William remained unmoved. “Consider it bribery then. Blake’s latest lecture draws from druidic law, and you didn’t seem as confused as everyone else.”
“My uncle is a druid.”
“See! Food for help with druidic magical formula. Fair trade, right?” Ælfweard insisted, holding the plate out toward the warlock.
Licking his lips, William glanced between the food and Ælfweard. Hunger overwhelmed his pride. When the library chimed, wards unlocking, the warlock relented, taking the plate.
“I don’t have much time for this. You’ve got until I’m done eating, and then you go away, got it?” the warlock informed the wizard.
Following William into the library, Ælfweard smiled. “That’s fine. I think I’ve got the basics, but I want to be sure I know how to proceed.”
“Sure-sure,” the dark-haired man grumbled as he made his way to the desk in the far back of the library.
With their plates of food set between them, the two pulled out their notebooks, and William reached out his hand, catching books which flew through the library as Ælfweard watched in surprise.
“You have a talent for telekinesis,” the wizard murmured as William flipped through the books and set them on the desk between the two. “My dad’s a telekinetic.”
Frowning, the warlock sighed. “I’ve marked all the books in the library according to subject to make summoning them easier. It’s not like telekinesis is that special. Anyone with magic can fine tune their summoning ability to be pretty much the same thing.”
Jaw clenching, Ælfweard bit his tongue, swallowing the immediate instinct to rise to his father’s def
ense. His father’s magic focused on the nuances, sensing and bringing up relics without harming them. While many dismissed his abilities and the council kept him almost constantly traveling for little compensation, Ælfweard’s father took pride in his work, and the wizard admired his father’s dedication even if he recognized the irresponsibleness of many of his parents’ decisions.
“That’s still impressive,” Ælfweard insisted.
William’s eyes narrowed as he squinted at the wizard. Summoning marked objects ranked amongst the easiest of spells, and the other’s insistence only served to irk him. He wasn’t pathetic. His magic spread as far as his knowledge, and though they remained mostly on the written application as they weren’t permitted much time to practice outside of lab work, the tests showed the warlock’s power rivaled the blond.
Running a hand through his dark hair, William huffed, gesturing to the page. “What don’t you understand?”
“Most of it,” Ælfweard confessed, brows furrowing. “All the magic users I’ve met up until you were wizards. We didn’t have many non-wizard texts in town.”
“I swear, you guys are worse than the Amish. At least they get Rumspringa,” William grumbled.
He flipped through the text, ignoring the wizard’s puzzled look. If the insult flew over the blond’s head, all the better. It wasn’t like wizards gave a damn about mortals. Jeans stood out like rebellion to Nicholas, and wasn’t that just sad? Rich or poor, wizards framed themselves as elites. A class above for the magic the possessed, and to them — even a warlock like William served as little more than a novelty.
Finding a page discussing the property of base elements, William sighed. “Do you get the basics? Druids aren’t just botany. A lot of modern ones have degrees in chemistry and physics too. They’re all about natural magic and manipulating the natural laws through their powers rather than supplementation through magical rifts.” With a slight laugh, he added, “Though rift theory is basically druidic string theory, so…” But Ælfweard only looked at him blankly. “Fuck, you don’t know what string theory is either?”
“Does it have anything to do with alchemic string trasmographification?” Ælfweard asked — his voice soft and uncertain.
William shook his head. “Nah, man. It’s all about the base structure of the universe.” Sliding the book back, the warlock leaned back in his chair. “Okay, I don’t think you need to know physics to get by in alchemy, but — shit — it’s going to be hard to explain advanced druidic principles without you knowing the basics. How about something older? Newton’s Laws of Motion?”
“We went over those in secondary when we learned advanced telekinetics and motor enchantments,” Ælfweard replied.
Letting out a chuckle of relief, the warlock grinned. “Okay, then how about thermodynamics?”
“Primary. That’s basic for anybody creating plasma spheres and other pyric spells,” the wizard informed him lightly, but sky-blue eyes shifted to the book with a sigh. “I understand mortals have discovered ways to explore the universe and explain the fundamentals by which magic users can manipulate elements innately. I get those variances alter malleability, but I don’t understand how.”
“It’s like a building. You can have the same materials, but depending how you put them together, the building will be stronger or weaker. Like this castle, it has an outer wall and several defenses; however, a castle with the same number and type of stones which was constructed without the wall would be more vulnerable to invasion,” William explained.
Ælfweard frowned, giving him a dry look. “I get that.”
“Then where did you get lost in class?”
“If diamonds and charcoal both have carbon-based structures, wouldn’t it be easier to use charcoal as a base with a heat and pressure catalyst to reach diamonds rather than dealing with straw — glucose heavy — to gold, a pure element,” the wizard replied, and the warlock’s jaw nearly dropped.
Caught up in the goal of their lessons and the reputation surrounding Workneh — as well as the program’s focus on the more impossible feats of alchemy, William completely forgot to consider the wider applications. If he simply wanted money, carbon-based transformations would be the best option. Additionally, despite the alchemic world being obsessed with gold, there were other materials which now had greater modern value. Diamonds definitely cost more than gold, and if druidic principle held true, the transformation through alchemic pyric-pressure techniques should have been simpler and more consistent than gold; however, gold — once formed — could be melted to purify. Diamonds — with interior flaws — would be more problematic to fix.
“Probably yes, but gold is easier to purify,” William concluded, doing his best to hide his frustration that he hadn’t even considered it.
Ælfweard hummed. The gears in his mind turned quickly as he considered how easily he would be able to increase his family’s wealth through diamonds and other similarly formed gemstones. Pressure and heat as catalysts remained the simplest methods, and compared to the molecular alterations introduced by chaos-method catalysts, they had less of a chance of catastrophic errors.
Tension which tightened his shoulders released, and smiling at the warlock, he wondered why anyone would be worried about being picked by Workneh. Networking and reputation would guarantee him a position in a company which would prevent him from having to learn how to sell his material results on his own, but a mastery of diamond alchemy would be enough to dramatically transform the way his family lived.
“Stop looking at me like that, you weirdo,” William grumbled, kicking the wizard’s chair. “I didn’t join the program to make diamonds. Any alchemy program teaches those principles.”
“But none of them do that,” Ælfweard pointed out.
Frowning, the warlock had to admit, “No, they don’t.”
“There has to be a number of other materials mortals pay high amounts for that we can easily create,” Ælfweard continued with a grin, but his smile slipped when the other man’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
“Is this all about money to you?”
Meeting the curious quicksilver gaze, Ælfweard stated, “My goal is to give my family a better life. Money helps.”
“Yeah, well, that’s not my goal,” William retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “I came here for the Hogwarts experience, and I’ve got to say, I’m feeling distinctly underwhelmed.”
“Hogwarts?”
“This isn’t even a Narnia experience. Where are the dragons? Mythical animals? Hell, I’m up for meeting a satyr,” the warlock complained, pulling out his notebook.
Ælfweard tilted his head, considering the warlock. “With that kind of motive, how are you going to beat me?”
“What?”
“You want to be the top scoring first year alchemy student, don’t you?” Ælfweard pushed.
Nose wrinkling as his eyes narrowed in suspicion, William said, “Well, yeah.”
“I’m here to give my family a better future, and you’re here for an experience. My life depends on this going well. You don’t need this,” Ælfweard informed him, and the warlock let out a low scornful chuckle.
“Well, it sounds like you just learned that you don’t have to be the top scoring student to do that, so I guess my new goal of undermining the magical prejudice in the wizarding community is gonna supersede your family matters, isn’t it?” the dark-haired man retorted.
Stumbling over what to say, Ælfweard didn’t get a chance to say anything at all. A familiar smarmy voice interrupted them. “Well don’t you two look chummy.”
Timothy snickered along like the perfect henchman though Ælfweard found the hairs on the back of his neck stood at end when the brown-haired wizard drew his eyes up and down the warlock’s body as if he were cattle prepped for auction. Given half the chance alone and a less than savory spell to keep the warlock from fighting back, the blond had no doubt the other wizard would’ve done whatever he could to pin the warlock down, but Timothy would nev
er get that chance. Thankfully, William had more muscles than eighty percent of the wizards in the place, and those who rivaled him were generally on the more physically demanding courses. Still, the sight of him eyeing up the warlock had Ælfweard’s hands curling into fists.
“Never got that term,” William drawled, sitting back in his chair as he glowered at the three wizards. “Sounds like we’re a bloody mess meant to lure predators, but look,” he gestured at Gilroy and Timothy, “we only caught two bottom-feeders.”
Snorting with a practiced and dismissive dignity, Gilroy brushed his robe off as if dusting away the warlock’s words. “I don’t know why you keep trying to be nice to this one, Ælfweard. He’s got no appreciation for the struggles of others. You’ve earned your high marks. He’s just a little warlock playing at being a wizard. Pathetic.”
“Why would I ever want to be one of you?” William spat. “You can’t even outscore me.”
Gilroy released a lamentous sigh, leaning on the back of Ælfweard’s chair. “All this talk of prejudice, but you’re really the one sitting judging others. This is our university. A sanctuary for our people — and you invited yourself in, cozying up and stealing away a spot from some poor wizard. How many lives are you planning on wrecking before you happily flit off to your next ‘adventure?’”
“Screw you, Radcliffe.”
All the books flew from the desk, startling Timothy and Gilroy who let out shrieks of surprise as the texts whizzed around. Ælfweard sent up a shield, ducking the mess as William shoved his notebooks into his back and stormed off with a rather rude gesture as his last retort.
“Bloody bastard,” Gilroy huffed, fixing his hair.
