Chapter 13

“I grew up in Aberfeldy,” Alastair began. “Can’t imagine you’ve heard of it.”

The blank faces staring back at him gave him all the answer he needed.

“Didn’t think so,” he said with a snicker. “It’s up north. Farm town, mostly, on the edge of a lush and beautiful woods. Pretty sunsets, grassy fields, neat hedgerows—I’m sure you can see it in your mind’s eye. I’ll tell you, it was a great place to be a kid. My parents were farmers—though my mother did whatever odd work she could find to make ends meet. This wasn’t Watermere, that’s for sure. It’s not that we were struggling, not exactly, but we weren’t wealthy either. I’m sure at least some of you can relate. Farmers are always worried their crops won’t yield enough to sustain them through the winter.”

He thought back to his mother working out the household budget by hand at the kitchen table, her worried expression when things didn’t add up. In lean years, she’d take on mending dresses during the winter seasons.

A few of the students nodded along as if they did, indeed, understand—including, to Alastair’s surprise, young George Redding.

“I always showed a talent for magic,” Alastair went on, “and my parents didn’t want me to run the farm. It was too toilsome for them, especially as they got older. They wanted, for me, a better life.”

He was their only son—their only child, in fact—which was unusual for a farming family in Aberfeldy. The others all had large families with many children to assist with planting and harvesting. Alastair never asked his parents why they’d stopped with him, but there had always been an air of melancholy around his mother that he’d never truly understood. Perhaps she’d hoped to have more children—or even, maybe, a life outside of Aberfeldy.

“How did you get into Emberstone?” George asked eagerly.

“Same as you, I imagine,” Alastair replied with a soft smile. “Studied hard, did well in school, and applied myself, especially in magic lessons. ‘Within these walls, excellence is born, and dedication is rewarded.’ It is true now, as it was then. My teachers all knew I’d be a mage. It was just a matter of which school would have me.”

“Same,” George said with a firm nod.

“If you wound up at Emberstone, you’re already that sort of person,” a red-haired girl with braids said smugly. “You probably started doing magic at four. We all did.”

“I didn’t,” one of the third-year boys said, looking a bit glum. “Not until I was ten. No one thought I’d be a mage at all.”

“And you’re at Emberstone?” the redhead scoffed—Alastair clocked the third-year with interest.

“No magic ’til ten,” Alastair said, hoping his kind words would clam up the red-haired girl and give the boy some comfort. “Must be really talented.”

The girl gave Alastair a short scowl before realizing she was disrespecting not only the head of her House, but also the headmaster. She smartly remained quiet for the rest of the night.

“So you were accepted here?” George continued. “When you applied?”

“I was,” Alastair answered, returning his attention to the group, and his story. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to go at first.”

“Why not!” a few shouted.

Alastair laughed. “Well, it’s far from home, and I was worried about my family.”

The students looked scandalized. He could imagine. Not go to Emberstone? The best magic school in the country? It never would have occurred to many of them.

“Clearly, I changed my mind,” he added with a smirk. “Not telling you what year I graduated, though.” He winked, and many of them snickered.

“What was it like when you were here?” asked the third-year who hadn’t discovered his magic until he was ten. “Were you here when the Dueling League was still around?”

Alastair winced. “No, I certainly was not. It was much the same, I guess. My parents were happy for me, but they weren’t going to give up their lives for it. I received a scholarship—full-sail—so that was covered. My mum walked me to the train station on my first day, bought me a ticket to Watermere, and I boarded the train. And that was that. Ozelius himself was waiting for me on the other end, and I never understood why.”

The people of Aberfeldy were kind—including the other children his age—but he’d never really fit in there. Everyone knew it. In primary school, he was reading chapter books while everyone else was still sounding their way through Bumpy the Bunny, and his clear talent for magic hadn’t helped.

In another town, he might have been resented, but his schoolmates had always been good sports about it. They aspired to one kind of life—happy families, a place in the village, large and cozy gatherings ’round the fire at Yuletide—and Alastair was destined for another. They’d been more like friendly co-workers than true friends. Now, ten years later, they were all living in or near Aberfeldy with houses full of children, and he was—well, here. None of them really kept in touch, and Alastair was guilty of the same. It was clear to all that when he boarded the train to Watermere, he was headed for a different world.

Just like you didn’t stay in touch with Avi, Brendan, Juliana, and Eloise.

He set that thought aside and smiled brightly around at the table.

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“What,” George said, looking troubled, “she just left you?”

Alastair shrugged. “She’s a farmer. They didn’t have time to come all the way to Watermere. And I was old enough to travel by train myself.”

“Did people like you here even though you weren’t from the city?” George asked, continuing his line of questioning. “Did you have friends?”

Sort of.

“Emberstone recognizes talent, both students and teachers. If you’re a good mage and work hard, there’s a place for you here. There were a lot of things I didn’t know about city life when I arrived, but I learned quickly. If any of you are from the country, you’ll soon find that you’ll fit right in.”

So he was stretching the truth a bit—and leaving out the bullying, the loneliness, the struggles he’d endured at Emberstone. They didn’t need to know any of that.

He was about to continue when George spoke again, “I’m sorry, sir. But that wasn’t the question.”

“Leave him be!” a fifth-year barked.

Everyone laughed, and so did Alastair, saying, “No. No, it’s okay. The boy has questions and that’s just fine. Did I have friends?” He thought of Eloise, Avi, Brendan, and Juliana again. “The best. How about you?” he added, quickly changing the subject away from himself. “Are you all from around here? Anyone come a long way to be a part of the Emberstone community?”

George Redding hesitantly raised his hand, and Alastair wasn’t surprised. The boy had clearly been asking all those questions for a reason.

“I’m from Blue Bay,” he said. “It’s tiny. My dad always says it’s got a population of about two hundred. We were poor until three years ago, right before I got into Emberstone. He’s an inventor and he sold a big idea, got a lot of money for the patent. So, suddenly, we weren’t poor anymore.”

“Must be nice,” said a fourth-year girl.