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    The castle was quiet as a church at midnight as they made their way back toward their separate quarters. Everyone—aside from Houses Aurum and Primordium—was either packing or struggling to get a night of good rest before traveling home the next day.

    Alastair wordlessly pondered the evening, believing it was a great first step toward a unified school. But was it enough? The students may have found camaraderie amongst one another, but what of the heads of Houses?

    “How about a drink?” Alastair asked. “A real drink, I mean. Not the soda we had at the party. I’ve got some brandy back in my office.”

    Sebastian hesitated, then said, “Sure. But I want to get to sleep before too long.”

    “You and me both, Shelley,” Alastair said with a light chuckle. He wasn’t as young as he once was.

    A crackling fire was already burning in the hearth when they reached the headmaster’s office. Thankfully, the gargoyle knocker was fast asleep as well, and Alastair made no efforts to wake him.

    Upon entering, Amby trotted over. It seemed the steamer trunk remembered Sebastian from their first day in Watermere. It growled low.

    “Enough of that,” Alastair scolded as he grabbed the bottle of brandy from the cupboard.

    The trunk joined them, and together, all three settled down by the fire. The heat felt nice against his freezing cold hands. Sebastian perched on a chair opposite him, eyeing Amby cautiously, and looking as if ready to leap up at any moment.

    “Relax,” Alastair said, pouring two tall glasses of brandy. “Amby wouldn’t hurt a flea.”

    Sebastian made a noncommittal sound.

    “And I’m not going to hex you.”

    “Wouldn’t recommend trying,” Sebastian said.

    Alastair could just sense the mirth bubbling under the statement.

    Leaning back in his chair a bit, Sebastian took the proffered glass of sanguine drink and held it up to the light. “This is Richardson brandy. Old mage family. My father used to date Maria, the youngest of their daughters.”

    “I see,” Alastair said. He wasn’t familiar with the Richardsons.

    “She’s the head of Watermere Wireless,” Sebastian explained. “Kind of a big deal. They own a family distillery. Richardson brandy is the best there is.”

    “I can attest to that,” Alastair said. “Though I’m not a great judge of brandy. How about you? How’s the year going for you?”

    Sebastian sighed. “Good. Good. House Aurum, you know, they’re a specific type.”

    “Alchemists.”

    “Alchemists,” Sebastian agreed. “They color-code everything. And they’re always studying together in the common room. I’m not sure they have much fun.”

    “Well, you’ve made the House a little—” Alastair took a sip, trying to think of how to phrase it, “—sterile?”

    “Alchemy is a very sensitive specialty,” Sebastian argued. “We have to keep things clean if my students are going to be working on their projects there. Otherwise, they’ll be contaminated.”

    “I see.”

    Sebastian laughed, almost to himself. “I once had a kid try to turn lead into gold—something got into the mix and he ended up with a swarm of bees.”

    “Can you do that?” Alastair asked. “Lead into gold? Isn’t that only a myth?”

    Sebastian nodded. “Of course. But don’t expect a fourth-year to believe that. Anyway, that’s why I’ve become so… dogmatic about cleanliness and order.”

    “I hear you,” Alastair said. “It’s just not the most comfortable environment, is all I’m saying.”

    “Alastair, Primordium is a mess! The chairs don’t even match!”

    “I prefer to think of it as cozy. And besides, the kids like it. Makes them feel at home.”

    Sebastian pursed his lips. He took a sip and sighed happily. “Really fine stuff, this brandy. Now, I know you’re headmaster, for now. But Emberstone is a serious place. These children are not at home. They’re expected to achieve, not be comfortable. That’s the whole point.”

    “I disagree. I don’t think a few mismatched chairs is going to make much of a difference. In case you’ve forgotten, school is hard. And they like having something to come back to that’s a little less… intimidating. They’re not robots.”

    Sebastian took another sip, percolating on this. “I see your point,” he said, sounding as if it pained him to say it. “I’ll consider making a second common room for Aurum. They won’t be encouraged to work in there, but maybe it will promote House camaraderie.”

    “That sounds like a great plan,” Alastair said. “Now, I think we’ve had enough work talk. How are things?”

    “What do you mean?”

    “I mean, how are you doing? What do you like to do outside of work?”

    Sebastian gave him an appraising look, as if he was trying to figure out exactly why Alastair wanted to know all of this.

    “I have no ulterior motive here, Shelley. I simply want to get to know you better,” Alastair admitted. “As headmaster and as a friend. It’s been a long time since our school days, and I know we’ve got bad blood between us historically—but that was a decade ago. If we’re going to work together, we may as well bury the proverbial hatchet. More brandy?”


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    “Sure,” Sebastian said. “Just a little. There. That’s fine. Thank you.” He took a small sip, then smacked his lips. “I’m doing well.”

    That was it. I’m doing well. Silence permeated the room for a time, then Alastair said, “And the second question? What do you like to do outside of work?”

    Sebastian shrugged. “I don’t have many hobbies. Mostly just Alchemy. And now, I guess, dueling.”

    “You could probably be a decent duelist,” Alastair said with a snicker. “If you ever wanted to show off for the students. You already know all the rules.”

    “So many rules,” Sebastian complained, his rocky facade finally cracking a bit into a smile. “I can’t believe people used to do it for real.”

    “Well, there’s another match coming up after break. I think Primordium’s going to be pretty competitive. We’ve been training.”

    Sebastian grinned. “So has House Aurum.”

    “It’s on, then.”

    They watched the fire, sipping their drinks in comfortable silence. This was the nicest interaction he’d ever had with Sebastian. They were almost—well, definitely not friends, but they seemed to be coming to terms just as George Redding and Caliban Elmwood had.

    “I have a question,” Alastair said, voice slurring from a wee too much booze.

    “Shoot.”

    “Some of the students told me you were leaving the castle late at night. What’s up with that?”

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