Chapter 26

“Juliana!” Alastair shouted, waving. “Good to see you back here.”

“Ally! Where’ve you been?” she asked as he closed in.

“Busy, busy.” He couldn’t hide the guilt evident in the flush of his cheeks. “Haven’t had time to come up for air.”

“Ever since you came back, Brendan, Avi, and I have all been getting drinks and playing trivia on Fridays. We’d been out of touch lately, but it was so nice seeing everyone, we decided to make it a thing. Do you want to come?”

Part of him was tempted to ask why this was the first he was hearing about it. They’d made it a thing, but hadn’t invited Eloise or him? Then, considering how demanding their jobs were, he decided it was possible his friends had just taken that into consideration.

Should he “make it a thing” with them? He didn’t relish the thought of being castigated by Avi again, but it was unkind to refuse.

“I’d love to. And really, Emberstone is lucky to have you. If you ever want to play a solo concert—”

Her eyes lit up. “For cello? Really? Would students be interested in that?”

Well…

Alastair nodded. “I think you’d have a small but devoted audience.”

“Story of my life,” she joked. “Thank you!”

There was still an Emberstone Chamber Society, and they were every bit as intense as they’d been when Alastair was a student. He was sure they’d love a private concert from a young alum—and if he kept it to one of the castle’s smaller rooms, it was likely to be a success.

With that message conveyed, he took a seat and waited for the show to begin. Ms. Snapdragon settled in beside him, grinning as if she had a secret.

“Remind me,” she said, “I need to tell you all about the Winter Ball!”

Oh boy.

He’d forgotten all about the Emberstone yearly ball. Held just before the holiday recess, it was always met with mixed reactions from the students. Positively speaking, it was a party with free food and an opportunity to get dressed to the nines and make the best impression on that special someone. The cons, however: all the teachers attended, like All Hallows’ Eve, the music tended to be on the stuffy side, and no one really knew how to do that kind of formal dancing anymore.

All said, it was right up Ms. Snapdragon’s alley.

“What’s to know about the ball?” he asked, shrugging. “I’ve attended plenty.”

“As a student,” she reminded him. “I’ve spoken with Quicksilver—please excuse me taking the liberty. You didn’t seem all too interested, pardon my saying so. We’re cooking up something nice. Going with the ice forest theme—but making it even better. Doubling the number of trees. Frosty, sparkling punch. Festive cakes. Magical snowflakes falling all night—and not Illusions, either. Real flakes. We can make it so they vanish when they hit the ground or we can even make them stick! What do you think?”

He thought back to the job Quicksilver had done in his office and couldn’t imagine what it would be like in there if the snow piled up on his desk.

“Vanish. Definitely.”

Ms. Snapdragon didn’t seem to have thought the idea through fully—how was anyone supposed to dance with a foot of snow on the Main Hall floor?—but she didn’t appear fazed. “Great. Excellent idea.”

The concert started before they could speak further. Juliana’s All Hallows’ Eve show had been classical music of the traditional variety, but this one was all festive winter melodies. Alastair had never been much for the holiday spirit, and even he found it delightful. When the lights came back up, he was tempted to whistle the group’s final song while the crowd rose for applause.

“How wonderful!” Ms. Snapdragon crowed. She turned to Alastair. “Oh, don’t you just love the holidays?”

At the moment, he almost did.

After congratulating Juliana and promising to talk further about her solo show, he returned to House Primordium, heart full of glee. While he was gone, the students had put up a small tree—more of a bush, really—and added Elemental charms to it. Upon closer inspection, most were basic third or fourth-year magic—building-blocks work—with some neatly executed and more advanced spellcasting sprinkled in. Alastair presumed those to be done by the seventh and eighth-years. He’d have to find out who and congratulate them on such fine craftsmanship.

The common room was strangely dark and empty for a Friday night, and he frowned as he moved toward the kitchen.

Where are they?

He had just turned the corner for the ice box when…

“Surprise!”

Alastair yelped and did something he’d been doing far too often lately—grabbed for his wand. The students had all been hiding in the kitchen, waiting for him to return. Now, with the lights on to reveal a makeshift holiday party complete with paper garlands, Alastair relaxed.

“We made a cake,” Lavinia Sturm said proudly. Then her face soured. “Well. We tried. It doesn’t look very good, but it tastes all right.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it’s taken without the author’s consent. Report it.

Her description was accurate. The cake was listing slightly to the side and someone had scrawled HAPPY YULE!! on it in blue and white frosting. It wasn’t very pretty, but it looked like chocolate—and it was hard to go wrong with chocolate cake.

“You nearly got hexed,” Alastair joked, pulling his hand from his wand.

A few of the children laughed.

“We got you something, too,” Rachel said. Her shoulders rose and she hunched. Poor girl was always so shy. “Not sure if you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I’ll love anything you all took the time to prepare for me!”

She opened the silverware drawer and pulled out a small box wrapped in brown paper. They all watched as he anxiously took it, pulled the paper off, and opened the lid.

Aw.

It was a minor charm made from a silver chess piece. It didn’t hold powerful magic, but it cast a dim, ever-changing light that slowly cycled through colors. Written upon it—

“Do I count ninety-five magical signatures on this?” Alastair asked.

The students grinned sheepishly.

“We all contributed a little,” Rachel said. “Whatever we could. Since you’re leaving at the end of the year, we wanted you to have something to remember us by.”

“And to thank you for being headmaster,” George said, “and for heading Primordium. We know how hard you’re working.”

Aw.

Maybe Alastair had become too cynical in his old age, because he was surprised at how moved he was by the gesture. The faculty were always going on about Emberstone students—how competitive they were, how they’d sacrifice anything for a good grade, and the like—but he hadn’t found that to be true at all.