Chapter 22

All was in disarray when he entered the House. He performed a quick Disillusion spell and opened the wards to let himself in—they recognized his magical signature—and found a group of seventh and eighth-years in the common room, wands out and ready to attack.

“Stand down,” said their leader, a stocky young man named Onyx Priestly.

Alastair didn’t know him well, but he was always polite and respectful. Less so now. He looked ready—not just ready, but eager—to attack any Dark Mage who dared come through the door.

We should recruit him for the Dueling League.

Not the time for that now.

“Good work defending the House,” Alastair said, closing the wards behind him and restoring the Illusion spell. “It’s only me.”

“We were ready, Headmaster.”

“I can see that.” Though he could see they weren’t. “How are things going in here?

The older students wore brave faces, but they were clearly scared and shaken. The younger students made no attempt to hide their fear, huddled together around the fireplace, still in their bedraggled All Hallows’ costumes. Some had clearly been crying.

“You should all be in bed,” Alastair said. “It’s past midnight.” They looked at him blankly, and he sighed. “But I understand. It’s been a frightening night. The teachers have spent the last few hours locking down the castle. You’re all safe. No one’s going to enter—the wards are sealed up tight as a drum.”

Onyx nodded. He’d clearly taken charge of the situation in Alastair’s absence. Hopefully, the rest of the Houses had students willing to do the same. “How are things going outside?”

“Wrapping up,” Alastair said. “No one tried to launch an attack on Emberstone. People are dispersing. I think things are over.”

He didn’t mention the damage that had been done to the magical district near the school. There’d be time enough for the students to find that out in the morning once they’d calmed down. For now, he wanted to get them to bed, especially the younger children.

“And Caliban?” George Redding said from a spot near the fire. “Where was he all night?”

“Reading a book,” Alastair said flatly. “And I’ll be wanting to talk to both of you in my office tomorrow, first thing in the morning, before classes start again Monday.”

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“There’s class Monday!” Rachel wailed. “After all this?”

“Yes. We’re still a school. Tomorrow’s Sunday. Take the day off, sleep in, recover. Then, back to work. That’s what the life of a mage is like.”

Rachel grumbled, and the rest of the students accepted it—as Alastair expected. Everyone valued hard work at a school like Emberstone Academy of Magic and knew its importance. No one wanted to fall behind the rest.

Alastair saw them off to bed, then spent a restless night in Montgomery’s room keeping watch. He refused to sleep in the old man’s bed, and the couch, when he tried it, was uncomfortable and too short for his long legs. He must have dozed off for a few moments here and there, but when the sun rose, he was as tired as if he hadn’t slept at all.

Emberstone was a bubble, insulated from the real-world. He’d known that much during his time as a student. But how had they missed a full-blown riot on the streets of Watermere until it was already beating down their door? They’d been too focused on their lavish party to see what was happening under their noses. Even now, they were still too wrapped up in the day-to-day administration of the school to be aware of what was happening in their very city. Alastair, too, was to blame. He’d been trying to settle in as headmaster and missed the larger picture.