Chapter 4

Eloise marched him out of the staff kitchens, down a hallway adjacent to the Main Hall, and up a narrow winding staircase through the eastern tower toward the Headmaster’s Quarters.

“Can we slow down?” he asked as they took the steps two at a time.

“We’ve got a lot to discuss, Ally.”

Alastair huffed. “We’ve got a whole year to talk about it—”

But Eloise Fearson was undeterred—a character trait Alastair used to respect greatly in her. Now that he was on the other side of her determination, he was getting second thoughts.

Soon, they stood before the thick wooden door to Ozelius’ office. The door knocker, a sharp brass thing in the shape of a gargoyle, scowled at them.

“You ain’t Sylvester,” it snapped, springing to life.

Alastair glanced around, wondering who else hadn’t been informed of his new role.

“Interim,” he said, trying to muster an unfelt authority in his tone.

The gargoyle looked to Eloise as if seeking confirmation, and she nodded.

“We warned you about this,” she said quickly. “One year, starting last week of August—”

The gargoyle yawned. “Right, right. Must’ve slipped me mind. Go on through.”

The door swung open to reveal Ozelius’ office.

Alastair had spent many afternoons in these rooms, hiding out from bullies. It was much as it’d always been—packed floor-to-ceiling with magical thingamabobs and rare, expensive books. The headmaster’s heavy wooden desk loomed at the center of the space with an ostentatious but matching chair. Plush armchairs flanked the fireplace, and Eloise wasted no time dropping Alastair’s arm to curl up in one. She got comfortable, then cast a Charmed Fire spell. Green flames erupted in the hearth, casting an eerie glow on her face as she turned to him.

“I bet he’s got some whiskey,” she said. “See if you can’t find it.”

Despite this technically being his office now, Alastair felt uncomfortable rifling through the headmaster’s desk drawers. After a bit more urging from Eloise, he shoved those feelings aside and got to work. Sure enough, in the bottom drawer on the left side was a half-full bottle and a set of goblets. Alastair poured a little into each cup and handed one off to Eloise, then sat in the empty chair across from her.

“So,” he said, taking a cautious sip. It felt scandalous to be drinking Ozelius’ alcohol like this. “Sounds like we have much to discuss.”

“I don’t know how much of it’s a discussion. You’ve got some explaining to do.” She sat up straight, crossing her legs between each other on the chair.

“Yeah, well… where to start?”

“How about what happened? We—you know, the old Elemental crew—saw you at graduation. Everything seemed fine, but once we all left Emberstone, it was like you’d dropped off the face of the earth. It was years before any of us figured out you were at Glimmerglass. And then, when I kept writing—just no response. What the heck, Alastair?”

He sighed. “I went home to Aberfeldy for a while. I just needed to be—not here.”

“But why?”

Alastair gave her an incredulous look. “Emberstone wasn’t exactly easy for me, you know.”

She blew a raspberry. “Like it was for any of us? Though none of us vanished for a decade. A decade, Ally!”

He’d done what was needed at the time, but hearing her talk about it brought a twang of guilt to his heart. “I know. I’m sorry, El. I never intended to… It’s just, after I was gone for a while it just got easier to… stay gone.”

A few seconds of fire-crackling silence passed before Alastair continued again, “It’s hard to explain, I guess. I had a new life at Glimmerglass. I was good at my job. I was respected.”

“You were respected here!”

Now it was Alastair’s turned to blow through his lips. “I was as respected as a one-armed juggler.”

“That’s actually pretty impressive…”

“You know what I mean!” Alastair said, and when Eloise laughed, he couldn’t help but join in. When they were through, he said, “It was like everything that happened here wasn’t real, like it happened to a different person. I was a new version of myself. And I liked that person better than whoever I was at Emberstone.”

“You were my friend,” Eloise said, her voice soft.

“And you were mine, too. And I hope, despite everything, you still are.”

“Headmaster Ozelius had big plans for you,” Eloise said, taking a sip of her whiskey. “He still talks about it.”

“Maybe that’s part of the problem. He had this idea of who I was going to be, and—”

Alastair bit his lip, unsure how to form his thoughts into words. Ozelius wanted him to go far—but the man wanted it to happen on his terms. The young country boy who’d gotten the mentorship he needed at Emberstone, who’d transformed his life for the better. He was grateful for the headmaster’s help—of course, he still was—but at graduation, he’d seen his whole future stretched out before him, and it had felt wholly suffocating.

“I’m not that,” he finished lamely. “Or I didn’t know if I was that.”

“So what changed?” she asked, dragging a fingertip along the rim of her glass.

“Huh?”

She gestured around the office. “You took the job, didn’t you? When he wrote to you about the interim headmaster job,” she clarified. “You could’ve turned it down if that was really what you wanted. Stayed in the woods forever. But you didn’t. You took it.”

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“Yes.” Alastair nodded.

“So what changed?” she asked again. When he didn’t immediately respond, she continued, “I’ll answer for you. Maybe you’re more ambitious than you think you are. Maybe, just maybe, Ozelius was right about you.”

The thought had occurred to Alastair as well, but self-confidence never came easily for him. He hadn’t grown up with privilege. He’d struggled every step of the way. It was by sheer luck he’d wound up at Emberstone in the first place—perhaps the only student ever to receive a scholarship. And that, only because of a chance meeting with Ozelius himself on the train. Apparently, Alastair had displayed “exceptional magical prowess.” Though privately, Alastair had sometimes wondered if the old man’s interest ran deeper than that. Ozelius had a way of looking at a boy from nowhere as if he recognized him and a way of steering the conversation elsewhere, every time, when Alastair worked up the nerve to ask why.

He shook his head.

Truly, he didn’t have the answers to the questions she was asking, so instead, he said, “I’m sorry I vanished like that,” consciously deciding to change the subject. “I should have written you back.”

To his surprise, Eloise suddenly looked like she was on the verge of tears. “Bloody right you should have! We all missed you, Ally.”