Chapter 47

“So we’re learning real Battle Magic today. Not dueling. Not this time. This is the hard stuff.”

Alastair stood in the garden outside of House Primordium with his wand at the ready. It was a blustery March day, and the students gathered around him squinted against the chilly wind.

“What’s the difference?” George Redding asked, absent-mindedly casting a Butterfly charm. The Illusioned flock fluttered around his head, looking oddly mechanical. Though the boy was a wonderful Elemental Mage, his Illusions needed a little work.

“In dueling, there are rules. It’s rooted in battle, but, ultimately, it’s a gentleman’s sport. You’re fighting in hopes to make your opponent yield, not die.”

“So now we’re fighting to the death?” George said. He dispelled the butterflies and leaned forward, clearly interested. “Cool!”

“Potentially.”

The other students looked distressed by this news.

“Here they are!” Ms. Snapdragon hurried across the garden. Some first-years trailed after her like a waddling of baby ducks. “Here to learn their first Shield spells. Go easy on them, Headmaster.”

“We’re fighting to the death!” George shouted.

Ms. Snapdragon froze. One of the first-years looked like she was about to cry.

“No, we’re not,” Alastair snapped. “George, knock it off. I wish I’d never said that.”

“You did, though!” the boy said good-naturedly, as if this was all in a good day’s fun for him.

“Settle down,” Ms. Snapdragon said, gesturing for the youngest students to join Alastair. “Hopefully, no one’s dying today—or all year, for that matter. We’ve divvied up the first and second-years. This is your crop. Shield spells only, Headmaster. Basic defense.”

Alastair gave an exaggerated sailors’ salute. “Aye aye.”

“Teach them the Electric Tornado,” George urged.

“Stop it,” Alastair said. He would have loved to know about that spell as a second-year, which was exactly why he couldn’t teach it to them. “Gather ’round, everyone, and let’s welcome our non-Primordium students to our training session. We’ll be showing them very basic Defensive Magic and drilling it with them. No funny business.”

Ms. Snapdragon nodded approvingly.

“If—and not saying this will happen, it’s just a worst-case scenario—someone breaks into the castle, we need everyone to be able to defend themselves until help arrives in the form of a teacher or higher-level student. Today’s our first lesson, so, as Ms. Snapdragon has already indicated, we’ll be doing basic Shield spells.”

“We learned Shield spells in class, sir,” said a chubby first-year with big black glasses. “Back in the fall.”

“Working in a classroom is different from working in the field. In a higher pressure and less controlled environment, it’s easy to make a mistake. Mistakes are the breeding ground of defeat. I want to know that you’re solid, see how you cast, and there are a few tricks I want you to learn as well.”

The kids clumped together close as he cast an exemplary Shield. “I know you’ve seen it one way in class. That’s how I do it.”

Next, he had them each show him the spell on their own. Most were decent casters. However, he saw a few patchy shields that made him nervous. He mentally noted which students needed more drilling. He’d have a talk with them separately. They were already on edge, and singling them out right now might lead to tears.

Once he was satisfied they could at least get something conjured, even if their Shielding wasn’t ideal, he paired each of them off with an older student and had them perform simple drills.

“Send them a Spark charm,” he told the Primordium students. “Nothing too strong, just something they can block. First and seconds, get ready. As soon as you see their wand arm move, throw up your Shields. This is about timing and reflexes.”

The first few drills were a disaster—which was to be expected. Alastair tried to keep a positive expression as Shield after Shield failed to engage. They clearly hadn’t done any battle-focused work in class—and rightly so—and the kids, already overwhelmed by the events of the last few days, kept panicking in the face of an actual attack.

“Patience, Headmaster,” Ms. Snapdragon said, sidling up to him. “They’re young.”

“They need to be able to do this.”

“They will be. Ten minutes of drills isn’t the end of it.”

Alastair waited, deciding not to intervene, and let them keep going—and sure enough, they got better. The older students were helping the younger ones, showing them how to fix their shields and get them up quicker, and by the end of the Shield spell session, there were only one or two first-years that still caused him concern.

“Good!” he said, holding up a hand. “I think that’s enough for first and seconds for today. Ms. Snapdragon, thoughts?”

“You all did very well,” she said, beaming at the assembled students. “Very well, indeed! We’re both very proud, aren’t we, Headmaster? And you should be proud of yourselves, as well. You’ve accomplished a lot today.”

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The kids didn’t look all that proud. Mottled terror and confusion flashed across their tiny faces. Alastair wondered how many of them would be pulled out of school in the next few weeks.

“It’s very, very unlikely you’ll need to use this type of magic while you’re here at Emberstone,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. “We’ve got strong wards and the faculty are all powerful mages. We’re here to protect you. But the rest of the world isn’t so safe. This is the type of thing you’ll need to know—and if you ever do need a Shield spell, it should be almost automatic. I can’t tell you the number of times having a quick Shield ready saved my life.”

He couldn’t tell them because—well, it hadn’t actually come up that much. He’d lived a fairly safe life so far as headmaster of Glimmerglass. But the students didn’t know that, and they looked duly impressed.

“We’ll come back to Shielding in the next few days,” he went on. “Then we’ll do Minor Defensive spells. The kind you can toss at someone to give you enough time to get to safety.”

“You want us to run?” George asked skeptically.

Alastair gave him a stern look. “Sometimes, George, running is the best choice.”

The boy began rolling his eyes, then quickly thought better of it. Alastair’s gaze lingered on him, then he turned back to the first-years, who nodded.