Chapter 12

Alastair was apprehensive as he strode into the Main Hall, clutching his list of names and assignments.

Egads, what if they cry?

He’d seen his share of tears at Glimmerglass, but Emberstone had the potential to be much, much worse. How many of these children had never been told “no” by a parent? Was he in for temper-tantrum city?

The third-year students—and some lingering parents, hoping to see their children sorted into their preferred Houses—were gathered anxiously at their tables. Caliban Elmwood and George Redding were, of course, seated as far apart from each other as they could manage.

“Hello!” Alastair announced a bit too brightly. “I know you’ve all been waiting for your House assignments, so let’s waste no time. Alphabetical order by last name. Listen carefully. Once we’re done, you’ll all meet at your new House flag and follow your head of House to your new living quarters. Good luck.”

The third-years had all slept in the second-year dormitories last night, but tonight, for the first time, they’d retire to their Houses. It was an exciting time for these thirteen and fourteen-year-olds.

Quicksilver and his staff had hung House flags along one of the broad sides of the Main Hall so the students could sort themselves into proper groups. Each of them surveyed the options, faces pale. In addition to Primordium (blue and white), Aurum (red and gold), Augury (green and white), and Gallimaufry (yellow and turquoise), there was Invocation (Summoning: purple and gray), Daydream (Illusions: white and silver), Sunrise (Nature Magic: yellow and gold), and Proteus (Shapeshifting: black and red).

Each House had its own living quarters, motto, and culture, and each was fiercely proud and competitive.

“Robert Avery,” Alastair called out. The boy stood, hands clenched at his side. “Sunrise!”

The little lad looked much younger than his age, and his parents had come out to support him. He flashed a toothy grin at the news, and glanced over at the yellow-and-gold flag of House Sunrise.

“Mitchell Azazel, Gallimaufry!”

A tall boy with messy hair banged his head on the table in despair.

Oh, come on. Gallimaufry isn’t that bad. You can’t expect Emberstone to have a separate House for every minor specialty.

Alastair remembered from Ms. Snapdragon’s impromptu lesson that Mitchell had shown a talent for Blood spells—a major component of the Healing Arts. With training, the boy might have a promising future in Vitamancery.

“Adrienne Barry, Proteus!”

And so on and so forth, down the list, until…

“Caliban Elmwood, Aurum!”

The young boy whooped in triumph, and looked over at Sebastian Shelley. Sebastian appeared pleased, if a bit nonplussed by the show of enthusiasm.

And, just Alastair’s luck: “George Redding, Primordium!”

Naturally, the two young rivals had been sorted into rival Houses—and naturally, he and Sebastian happened to be House heads this year.

No way at all this could possibly go badly.

Once he was through the list of assignments—and the theatrics from Emberstone students either excited or disappointed about the announcement died down—Alastair gave a swift nod to the faculty, and heads of Houses moved to their flags. He, himself, stood under the four-quartered banner of Primordium. Though it was primarily light blue, each quarter depicted a flame, a raindrop, a leaf, or a stylized gust of wind.

George Redding was the first of his small group of students to arrive beside Alastair, and the young man looked at him with surprise. “Where’s Mr. Montgomery?”

“Sabbatical,” Alastair answered without emotion. “I’m stepping in for now.”

George seemed to contemplate this, then grinned. “Alright, then. To Primordium, Interim Headmaster Meade!”

Alastair hadn’t expected such enthusiasm, and it rubbed off. “Uh… Yes! To Primordium.”

There were only four students assigned to the Elemental specialty this year. Which wasn’t a surprise. Elemental Magic and Alchemy were among the rarest callings, and Emberstone wasn’t a particularly large school. There were only so many mages a country could hold, after all.

Once the students were gathered, they cheerily set off to their Houses. Sebastian trotted off to the secret staircase behind the main fountain that led to Aurum, Eloise to the Summoners’ laboratories that housed Invocation, and the like.

Alastair cheerily led the way to the Formal Gardens. “Right this way, everyone. Come on. Keep up.”

He paused for a beat at the small, green door cleverly concealed within the vines on the garden’s eastern wall. House Primordium, like many of the specialties’ living quarters, was enchanted. The door should have lead to nowhere—and the interior side of the wall was unremarkable. But there was an entire home hidden within. It’d been ten years since he’d last been inside, yet it felt like longer. Eons. He’d been a whole different person back then.

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“We’ve got four rooms reserved for you on the primary floor,” he instructed. Third-years were always on the first floor of Primordium, fourth and fifth on the second, and so on. Quicksilver’s crew had been given the sorting list ahead of time, thus allowing them to magically alter the levels to accommodate each new student. “Names are on the doors.”

The students followed him into the Primordium living room, largely unchanged since he’d been a student. Same hearth—empty now and ready for a fire once the weather turned. Same overstuffed, mismatched armchairs. Same slightly shabby woven rug. The front window looked out onto a peaceful forest, though no such forest was to be found anywhere on Emberstone grounds. He remembered the endless circular debates around the fire about whether the forest was real, and if so, where it was. None of the students in his year had ever been able to arrive at a sound answer.

The third-year bedrooms were all down a narrow hallway just past the House’s small, neat kitchen. The students rushed eagerly to their assigned rooms to get their first glimpse inside.

“Take the afternoon to unpack!” Alastair called after them. “Move your things out of the second-year dorms and into here. The whole House will convene at six for dinner. Don’t be late!”

Provided by Emberstone staff, of course. Alastair himself couldn’t cook. After a decade of school life—and dining hall food—he’d never needed to learn.