A Broom Too Far

by Mara Webb

  Just like I had after the crash, I pressed my wand firmly to the dashboard and focused. Within seconds the heater was pouring perfectly heated air into the car. The seats felt a little heated too and my hands were no longer freezing against the icy steering wheel. I still hadn’t worked out how to magic the trash out of the car, I might have to do it manually. Gross.

  I needed to know more about the laws surrounding magic use for personal gain. I wasn’t sure where the line was drawn. I am pretty sure that without fixing the heating Quin would have turned blue, so really it was a health issue.

  The University was surprisingly close to the town. I had expected that a wizarding University might be more shrouded in mystery, but it was just as Quin had said. Less than half an hour of driving brought us to the campus.

  It was a sight to behold. I had so many questions about what I was looking at, but Quin broke my train of thought.

  “So, remember. We are looking for a thief and we can’t tell anyone what has been stolen. Where would you like to start looking?” he asked. Looking at the vastness of the buildings in front of me, I had no idea.

  4

  I don’t know what I had been expecting. The building closest to the road was three floors high and made of red brick. The number of windows along each floor suggested there were twenty rooms facing us from each level, I had no idea how far back it went, but likely there were as many on the other side.

  The window frames were as white as the stone steps leading up to central, tall wooden door which was...colorful.

  What is that?

  The door shimmered from a dark blue to green then purple. It seemed to somehow be painted with an oil slick, the color moving over itself and changing color as it did so. Either side of the door were two stone pillars that rose to the tiled roof. The columns were also animated.

  “Quin, how is that happening?” I asked, pointing towards the movement.

  Just like my wand, the stone bore carvings of wizarding history. Wizards fighting each other, evading hunters, flying. The carvings in the stone moved around the pillars like a movie was playing on them.

  “This is a magic University. It wasn’t going to be dull, was it?” Quin responded. He gestured towards a parking lot where I could leave the car and then we walked back to stand facing the oil slick door. The path towards the door was a meandering gravel, looping left and right like a long snake. The distance from where I stood on the sidewalk to the front door was about thirty feet. This path easily made that trip one hundred feet long.

  “What is this path like this for?” I asked Quin. Surely it would be much faster to walk straight forward?

  “Don’t step on the grass Nora, seriously. I have never been anywhere as strict about that. They have Imps guarding the grass, horrid violent creatures. Just walk the path, if an Imp attacks you, I won’t help. They are bigger than me and my magic is no match for their grass-based rage.” Quin took the first step onto the gravel path.

  I followed behind. As my first foot came down onto the rocks, signs started to appear everywhere. Wooden signs were suddenly floating twelve inches above the lawn on either side of us.

  ‘STAY OFF THE GRASS!’, ‘Risk of Imp revenge, you have been warned!’ and ‘Why do you hate us?’ were a few of the ones closest to me. The signs had been painted in various colors and some were spinning to reveal more aggressive statements on the back. The path curved, looped, doubled back entirely to the sidewalk and then finally led us to the steps.

  I turned back to look at the path again and it was now perfectly straight. No loops, no curves. It was a direct path back to the sidewalk. The signs had all vanished. Facing the door again There was a lectern to our left holding a large open book. The book had a list of names handwritten inside.

  “The list of offenders. The Imps keep a record of anyone that steps on their grass. They have tried to campaign for multiple grass treading offences to result in expulsion or a drop in grades but the teachers aren’t keen on that.” Quin walked towards the stone steps and bounced up to the door.

  “How do you know all this?” I asked him.

  “This is where I used to teach! I must have told you that. I remember telling you. Come on? It was a few days ago. I told you about teaching here and that time I woke up inside a bank vault. You must remember it.” He laughed at the idea that I could forget. He had not told me either of these stories.

  “Sure.” I replied. It was the quickest way to move on.

  The giant doors opened as we approached. I imagined that they would swing open to reveal a grand interior, marble floors, impossibly high ceilings and sweeping staircase. The doors opened and then hit something, leaving a gap two feet wide between them. Quin walked through and I followed, turning sideways as I did just so I didn’t bash my shoulders by accident.

  It was a tall room, but incredibly small otherwise. The doors had hit tables that had been placed either side of the entrance, on top of which lay piles of dirty towels. A piece of yellow paper from a legal pad had been stuck to the wall just in front of us with the word ‘Welcome’ written in ink and an arrow pointing to the left. Quin was already heading through the door to the left that the sign suggested.

  This regular sized door opened into an enormous room, busy with people carrying book bags, wands, snacks and animals. It was alive with noise. The floor was highly polished Oak and the walls were lined with artwork. Paintings of soldiers, horses, and weapons seemed to be everywhere. An enormous tapestry ran along the top of the wall in front of us, it wasn’t very tall, but was incredibly long.

  “Is that the Bayeux Tapestry? What is this place?” I asked. My mouth was hanging open in amazement as I gazed around the room looking for other details to absorb.

  “Yeah, the headmistress here is really into honoring our contributions to great battles, the sacrifices we have made as a community. Did they teach you about the magic used at the Battle of Hastings? I doubt it. With Professor Burne being so passionate about history this place has had a huge decor change, she has been headmistress here for about twelve years.

  Students know more about our predecessors than I did when I was a kid here. It’s important to know what has gone on before you, it can help shape the future of magic.” Quin seemed much more focused here as if he were still taught at the University. Quin the Professional was a new angle, I liked it.

  “So, this is the entrance? What was that small room about? Why was that at the front?” I asked.

  “A feud with the architect back in the day. No one ever remembered why the headmaster was fighting with him but making that tiny box room the first thing people see was his petty revenge.” Quin made eye contact with a bear that was standing guard next to another set of large wooden doors. It growled, waved and pointed to something on his chest.

  We needed a visitor’s pass apparently. No one batted an eyelid that there was a bear in uniform here, or that Quin was talking, it was normal for them.

  “Over there, next to that painting of the men holding spears.” Quin pointed with his paw towards an angry looking bird.

  A seagull sat on top of a leather-bound book that we needed to write our names into. The desk it was on brought the book up to the correct height for anyone that needed to fill it out. Quin went first.

  The table dropped down so that Quin could easily write his name in the book. He was surprisingly dexterous with a pen. As he wrote his name, species and favorite prog-rock song into the book, the seagull screamed loudly at him. Quin put the pen down and stepped to the side to allow me to complete my entry.

  The table grew rapidly and came to my level. The seagull continued to scream. I needed to write my name, species and least favorite soda. It was hard to concentrate with all that noise the bird was making but once I was done a lanyard appeared around my neck. The laminated photograph that the lanyard held was of me.

  The photograph was moving, and my smiling face started to screw up as can after can of cherry coke were poured over my head by armless hand
s. My hair in the photo was wet and clung to my face, more floating hands appeared with more cans and the process repeated.

  Why is this whole place so weird?

  I could hear music quietly playing, just audible over the chatter of the people around us.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  “It’s ‘Carry on Wayward Son’.” Quin had a tiny lanyard with his photo playing enthusiastic air guitar along to the song by Kansas. I think I got the short straw here.

  The seagull started to shriek again. I hadn’t noticed that it had stopped so the sudden noise made me jump.

  “Why is that bird here? The noise is unbearable.” We started to walk towards the guard bear and the door he stood alongside. The squawking grew less intense as we moved away.

  “He protects the book. Hard to think of a fake name when something is screaming like that, it stops people thinking of a lie. Show Lyle your pass.” Quin held up his laminate, the photo now showed several versions of Quin in a mosh pit with long hair on their heads, all the cats were rocking out.

  My photo was now two versions of myself throwing cherry coke at each other. Lyle the bear let us through.

  “We need to find the cheerleading team. Where would they be?” I asked as we walked along a corridor with classrooms either side.

  “They could be anywhere really, if we get lucky then they are in the middle of a practice, if we don’t get lucky then they are all in their separate classes right now. That would mean heading towards the sports field, walking into the building with the offices for the sports staff, looking for photographs of the cheerleading team, mesmerizing of all the faces and names in the photo and then asking for each individual at the reception desk.” He paused and looked through a window to his right. “Never mind, they are all right there.”

  The glass window went from floor to ceiling, all the way to the top of the third floor. We were standing in some sort of circular room that rose up to the top of the building. The window was taking up the entire right side of the room, the corridor continued in front of us and the left side of the room was also glass overlooking the lawn by the parking lot. The room seemed to serve no real purpose other than to break up the corridor.

  The cheerleading team was comprised of twelve overly enthusiastic, bouncy people. It didn’t appear that they had any guys on the team, but we were still far away.

  “They are called the ‘dud dozen’ for a reason. This squad has tried every year to enter those competitions with a big cash prize, but they are awful. It is crazy because the lineup is always changing when they replace the students that have graduated. Every year that are terrible. This is a group full of witches and they are still beaten by humans. Looks like this bunch are even worse than the last lot.” Quin was staring at them.

  I could not hear their music from this side of the window but if I didn’t know better, I would guess they were all dancing to a different tune. The movement of arms and legs was erratic. No one seemed to be doing the same thing, there were kicks and air punches, one of them was doing a handstand that had so far lasted for three minutes. Her skirt had fallen over her stomach, her legs pointing straight to the sky.

  One of the girls with blond hair in braids was rolling along the floor as if to put out an invisible fire. It was fascinating to watch but I could understand where the nickname came from.

  “Is there a curse on them or something? Why are they so bad at this?” I asked. It was like watching a car burning on the side of the highway, it was obviously terrible and horrifying but I couldn’t look away. An intense desire to see what happened next.

  “I wish. They are just the worst dancers that have ever danced. We may all have magic powers, but witches and wizards generally aren’t gifted with rhythm. Have you ever been to a wizard wedding? We humiliate ourselves, but we enjoy trying so as long as it isn’t filmed, everyone’s happy.”

  Quin pushed a button with his shoulder and the bottom section of the window slid into the wall. He walked out onto the training field. I followed him. I could now hear the music they were trying to dance to. They were blasting ‘Friday’ by Rebecca Black as loudly as they could, my ears desperately tried to reject the sound. The melody was too catchy.

  Urgh, that will be in my head for a week.

  As we got closer, I saw that they were all wearing earrings like the one we had found in the attic. One girl had an earring missing.

  5

  I felt anger rise within me. Who was this girl? Why would she have broken into my home? I didn’t know anything about this place an hour ago and now I was here looking at the twelve least coordinated people on the planet throwing their body parts around, out of time with the music. What could I say to her?

  I couldn’t decide if it was insane to accuse someone of a crime based on such little evidence. If this were a regular situation, would this go to court? What would a jury of my peers say about this? Would anyone think I was justified in jumping to such a conclusion?

  One of the girls was clapping her pom poms together and shouting “Victory! Now let me hear it, V-O-C-T-A-R-I spirit!” With a high kick to the right she brought her heel right into another girl’s stomach. This cheerleader doubled over clutching her abdomen as if trying to hold her organs inside, it was so wildly dramatic and painful to watch.

  A whistle blew. Some sort of authority figure strolled onto the grass wearing a long black woolen cape over the top of tight red sports gear. Long lycra leggings and a tracksuit jacket, the colors together were not quite the same shade of red. It was visually jarring and drew the eye to it. The woman blew the whistle twice more in sharp, short blasts.

  “Enough of this ladies, we need choreography. We need organization. We need a beat that you will all dance to at the same time. Have you been practicing flips? The other groups always have flips.” The woman was perhaps in her forties with blonde hair pulled up into a tight ponytail. It looked uncomfortable, skin was being forced out of its natural position and stretched backwards.

  The girl that had been rolling on the ground jumped up so that she was standing up in front of the cloak wearing twizzler. “Yes, Professor Turner. We are working on it, with the new members there is a lot of training so—”

  “Imogen, I will not be the laughingstock again. I have warned you. I don’t care how much money daddy is throwing at the problem. You will be off the squad and the funds will be redirected. This is your final chance.” With that the woman turned and marched off the field. Imogen's cheeks flushed a deep shade of scarlet.

  She had just been yelled at in front of the rest of the girls on the team. The training field was in between a few buildings, each with windows facing out onto the grass. She had been embarrassed in front of the entire university. I felt her pain, but I had to remind myself why I was there.

  The girl with one earring had been dancing when the angry teacher had approached. She turned to say something to Imogen, finally noticing that Quin and I were standing ten feet away from the group. Both of her pom poms fell to the ground and she scrambled to hide behind two of the other cheerleaders.

  “I wasn’t my idea, don’t hurt me! I didn’t mean to cause any trouble! How did you find me? Did I break something?” She sounded frightened. I hadn’t opened my mouth yet; I hadn’t revealed my identify or the purpose of my visit. She must have recognized Quin from having stuffed him into the velvet bag.

  “You broke into my house,” I said, calmly. “You entered my property uninvited and you put my familiar into a bag, you could have hurt him. You fed the kittens something that you shouldn’t have. You put them all in danger, for what? Some books? Do you even know which books you have stolen from me? Do you?” The calm was falling away, and my voice was scratchy in my throat as the volume built.

  “How dare you? How old are you? Nineteen? Why are you breaking into a stranger's house in the middle of the day? You don’t even know what I am capable of, you took a big risk. A risk you will regret—”

  “Nora, no!” Quin screamed. M
y focus shifted. I felt a heat in my palms. I looked down. Lilac flames were caressing the inside of my hands like feathers. The fire was coming from me. As I took slow breaths the flames grew smaller, until eventually extinguishing in a small blue puff of smoke.

  Eyes were on me from every direction. I had the eyes of the cheerleading squad, the eyes from classroom windows overlooking the field, the eyes of a terrified girl with one earring and the horrified eyes of Quin. What had I done? How had I done that?

  “I can, I can give them back. We can, I mean. I’m sorry Miss Wildes. I should never have…” She was shaking. I had made her that afraid? I had absolutely no idea what was in those books. I had a new awareness of a library full of treasures above the room I slept in and someone I had never seen before had taken some of them. I frightened myself in that moment.

  Quin was tugging at the leg of my jeans. “We should go Nora. Now,” he insisted.

  What should I do?

  “See that they are returned,” I said to the quivering teenager. The sound of our retreat felt amplified in the silence of the stares. We were being watched. What had they expected would happen? Was I going to set her on fire with my fists of purple flame? Why had I gotten so angry so fast? Something didn’t feel right.

  We walked back through the gap where the glass window had slid away. Once our feet were safely back inside the circular room, the glass rapidly move back. That was our cue to leave. Large drapes appeared out of nowhere and fell across the windows on both sides of the room, plunging it into darkness. The only light now came from the corridor which lead to the front entrance. We were being asked to leave by the building.

  Quin and I walked down the long hallway. The windows in each classroom door had blinds which dropped over the glass as we approached, further blocking light. We picked up the pace of our feet to a jog, I wasn’t sure what might happen if we lingered. As we got back to the main entrance hall, we were met with an angry looking bear blocking our path, arms folded and growling.