Hogwhats

Chapter Two

I panicked as I desperately searched my memory for some sort of throat-repairing spell, which I was obviously about to require. At the same time, I heard a man and a woman yell out a warning. When the werewolf came charging at me, the only thing I could muster up the strength to yell was, "BAD DOG!"

Then, as I looked to my left, I caught a glimpse of a flash of blue light out of the corner of my eye. Suddenly, it appeared as though the werewolf had collided with an impassable barrier that was only a few inches in front of me. He let out a pitiful whimper before collapsing to the ground. His fur and skin began to ripple and flow until he was transformed into a normal boy dressed in khakis and a blue blazer while whimpering pitifully. When his parents finally arrived, my mother was already on her way to me, dragging my trunk behind her.

She exclaimed, "Oh my God!" with a breath. "Sweetie, are you okay?"

"Fine," I said, brushing the grass off my skirt.

Someone to my left whispered, "You know, I usually find a blocking spell to be a lot more effective than yelling 'Bad dog,' but maybe that's just me." I turned to look at the person who had spoken.

I made the turn. A man grinning to himself could be seen smirking while leaning against a tree with his collar unbuttoned and his tie hanging loose. The blazer that he wore by Grimme was slackly draped in the crook of his elbow.

The next thing he said was, "You are a witch, aren't you?" He pushed himself off the tree and ran a hand through his dark hair as he did so. His hair was curly. As he got closer, I was able to observe two things about him: first, that he was lean, almost to the point of being skinny, and second, that he was significantly taller than I was. "Perhaps in the future," he suggested, "you could make an effort to not be such a terrible failure at it."

After finishing his sentence, he ambled off.

I was in a state of complete and utter rage after an encounter with Jules the Dogface Boy, who came dangerously close to attacking me, and a strange guy who wasn't particularly attractive told me that I was terrible at witchcraft.

I looked to see if Mom was watching, but when I did, I saw that she was talking to Jules's parents and saying something that sounded like, "Was he going to bite her?!"

"So you're saying I'm a wicked witch, huh?" I murmured something under my breath as I concentrated on the boy's back as he retreated.

I put my hands up in the air and conjured up the most vile spell I could possibly imagine, one that involved pus and bad breath and severe genital dysfunctions.

And nothing else took place.

There was no feeling of water rushing up to my fingers, no quickening of my heartbeat, and no standing up of the hair on the back of my neck.

I was just standing there looking like an i***t and pointing every single finger in his direction.

What the...? Before now, when I cast a spell, I never once had any problems.

Then, after what seemed like an eternity, I heard a voice that sounded like a magnolia being dragged through molasses say, "That's enough, my dear."

I refocused my attention on the front porch, where I saw an elderly lady dressed in a navy suit standing between some creepy ferns. She had a smile on, but it looked more like the smiles that creepy dolls have. She glared at me with one of her long fingers.

She spoke with a soft, smoky, and musical tone as she explained, "We do not use our powers against other Prodigium here, regardless of how provoked we may be." In point of fact, if the house had been able to communicate with me, I would have anticipated that it would have a voice that was identical to that of this woman.

"May I add, Rebic," the woman continued as she turned to the young man with dark hair, "that while this young lady is new to Grimme, you know better than to attack another student," she said to the boy with dark hair.

He let out a snort. "So you're saying that I should have let him devour her?"

She responded by saying that magic was not the answer to all of life's problems.

"Rebic?" I inquired, c*****g both of my eyebrows. You might be able to take away my magical powers, but even if you did, I would still have the power of sarcasm available to me. "Which of these two surnames do you go by, Oldport or Helsieng? Perhaps followed by some numbers after that? Ooh!" I widened my eyes as I spoke and said, "or maybe even Hesquire!"

I had hoped that I would offend him or, at the very least, make him angry, but all he did was keep smiling at me. I was disappointed. " In point of fact, my name is Rebic Cross, and I'm the first one here.

Now, tell me about yourself." He strained his eyes. "The girl has brown hair, freckles, and exudes an overall girl-next-door kind of vibe................... Ariah? Norah? Definitely something adorable with the letter ah at the end."

You know those times when your mouth is moving but you're not actually producing any sound, right? To a large extent, that is exactly what transpired. And then, of course, my mother made the most of that opening to cut off her conversation with Jules's parents and yelled out, "And then!" "Sarah! Hold tight."

"I had an inkling." The laughter of Rebic over his shoulder, he called out, "See you, Sar ah," as he entered the house. "See you later, Sar ah."

I refocused my attention on the individual who was speaking. She appeared to be in her fifties and had dark blond hair that was styled into a complicated updo. Her hair had been twisted, teased, and probably even threatened into this look. I assumed that she was Grimme Hall's headmistress, Mrs. Grevion Kimich, due to her practically royal bearing and the fact that she was wearing a suit in the school's signature royal blue color. I didn't need to look at the brochure in order to recall that information. When you hear a name like GrevionKimich, you tend to remember it.

It turned out that the blonde woman was in charge of Grimme Hall, and her name was Awesome. My mother extended her hand to shake. "Rebecca Laycon. This is Sarah, by the way."

My name, which is relatively straightforward, was transformed by Mrs. Kimich's Southern drawl into a phrase that sounded like an exotic appetizer served at a Chinese restaurant and was pronounced "Soh-fee-yuh."

I quickly said, "My name is Sarah," in the hopes of avoiding being called Saeerah for the rest of my life.

"Let me get this straight: none of you are from around here, is that correct?" Mrs.

While we were making our way towards school, Kimich continued.

No, replied my mother as she shifted my duffel bag to the other of her shoulders, the trunk remaining in the middle of us. "Georgia is one of the few states that we have not lived in, despite the fact that my mother is originally from Tennessee. We have traveled quite a bit from place to place."

To say that quite a bit is enough would be somewhat of an understatement.

During my first sixteen years, I traveled to nineteen different states. When I was eight years old, we lived in Indiana for the longest period of time at any one location. That brings us to the year 2018.

The time we spent in Montana three years ago was the quickest we've ever spent anywhere. That had been a fortnight prior.

"That makes sense," Mrs. Kimich commented. And what are you up to these days, Mrs. Laycon?"

"Ms." The statement was made by mom on autopilot, albeit a tad too loudly. She chewed on the corner of her lower lip and pretended to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I work in education. Religious studies, primarily mythology and folklore rather than history."

As we made our way up the impressive front steps and into Grimme Hall, I followed closely behind them.

It was mercifully cool, which indicates that they appeared to have some kind of magical air-conditioning ritual going on. In addition, it smelled like any other old house, which had that strange odor that is a mix of furniture polish, old wood, and the musty smell of aged paper, like you would find in a library.

I had wondered whether the squashed-together houses would be as obvious on the inside as they had been on the outside. However, all of the walls were covered in the same hideous burgundy wallpaper, which made it impossible to see where the wood ended and the stucco began.

The massive foyer was dominated by a mahogany spiral staircase that twisted up three stories, seemingly supported by nothing. This staircase could be found just inside the front door. A stained-glass window could be found behind the staircase. This window began at the landing on the second floor and continued all the way up to the ceiling. The late afternoon sun shone through it, illuminating the foyer with intricate patterns of vibrantly colored light in the shape of geometric shapes.

"Quite remarkable, wouldn't you say?" Mrs. Kimich remarked cheerily on the topic. "It illustrates how Prodigium came into existence."

The view from the window depicted an angel with an angry face standing just inside some golden gates. The angel had a dark sword held in one of his hands. The other hand was pointing, making it abundantly clear that the three individuals who were standing in front of the gates needed to get the heck out of there. Only, if you will, in an angelic manner.

Additionally, the three figures were angels. They all appeared to be in a pretty miserable mood.

Even the angel on the right, a woman with long red hair, was hiding her face in her hands. She was hunched over with her arms crossed. I noticed that she wore a heavy golden chain around her neck, and upon closer inspection, I saw that it was composed of several miniature figures clasping hands with one another. The angel on the left was depicted as having a leafy crown on his head and looking back over his shoulder. And in the center, the tallest angel stood with his shoulders back, his head held high, and his gaze fixed on the ground in front of him.

At long last, I uttered the words, "It's... something."

"Sarah, are you familiar with the tale?" It was Mrs. Kimich who inquired.

She flashed a grin and pointed to the terrifying angel who stood guard behind the gates when I shook my head. "Those angels who refused to take sides during the Great War between God and Lucifer were kicked out of heaven after the conflict was resolved. One group,"—and she pointed to the tall angel in the middle—"decided to conceal themselves by going underground and going very deep into the woods. They changed into faeries. Another group made the decision to live among animals and changed their appearance to blend in. And the very last of them decided to interbreed with humans and turn into witches."

When I overheard my mother say, "Wow," I turned to her with a grin on my face.

"I wish you the best of luck in trying to explain to God that you used to s***k one of his heavenly beings," the man said.

The mother let out a startled laugh. "Sarah!"

"What? You did. All I want to say is that I hope you enjoy the warm weather, Mom. That's all."

Again, Mom laughed, despite the fact that I could tell she was trying very hard not to.

A frown could be seen on Mrs. Kimich's face as she cleared her throat and continued her tour. "The age range of students at Grimme is from twelve to seventeen years old. After being found guilty and sentenced to Grimme, a student does not become eligible for release until the day after their eighteenth birthday."

"So some children could be here for as long as six years, while others could be here for as little as six months?" I asked.

"Precisely. The vast majority of our students are brought to this location not long after they come into possession of their powers. On the other hand, there are invariably notable exceptions, such as yourself."

"Go me," I muttered.

"How would you describe the atmosphere of the classrooms?" Mom inquired while casting a glance in my direction.

Classes at Grimme are designed to be similar to those offered at Prentiss, Mayfair, and Gervaudan.

Mom and I looked at each other and nodded as though we understood what she had just said.

Because Mrs. Kimich said that, I guess we didn't manage to fool her" "The most prestigious boarding schools in the world, respectively, for witches, faeries, and shapeshifters. Classes are assigned to students, taking into account not only their ages but also the unique challenges they faced when attempting to integrate into human society at the time."

She smiled in a dry and brittle manner. "The course equipment can be difficult, but I have no doubt that Sarah will do very well in spite of the difficulty."

There has never been a time when words of encouragement have sounded so much like warnings.

Mrs. Kimich pointed up the flight of stairs as she explained that the dorms for the female students were on the third floor. "The boys are now in the second position. Classes are held not only in this building, on the first floor, but also in the outbuildings that surround this main building." She indicated to the left and right of the staircase, which led off the foyer into long, narrow hallways, respectively. She was very reminiscent of a flight attendant, what with the pointing and the blue uniform she was wearing. I had anticipated that she would inform me that in the event of a crisis, my brand-new Grimme blazer could be utilized as a form of flotation should the need arise.

Now, are the students separated by... uh.............. Mom made a motion with her hand.

I couldn't help but notice that Mrs. Kimich's smile was as tight as her bun when she smiled at me, but I tried my best to ignore it.

"On the basis of their skills? No, this is not the case at all. Teaching students how to get along with people of different Prodigium races is one of the fundamental tenets of the Grimme educational system."

Mrs. Kimich redirected her attention to us and then led us to the opposite side of the foyer. This area featured three enormous windows that reached all the way up to the landing on the third floor. Beyond them was the courtyard, which was beginning to see a gathering of children on the stone benches that were placed beneath the live oak trees. I say kids. It's possible that they were all things, just like me, but it wasn't obvious. They appeared to be no different than any other typical group of students. That is, with the exception of the faeries.