by Lily Luchesi
Donahue smiled. “Quite all right. You’ll be caught up in no time.”
“I’m um, Draven Silver. From Brighton, in Essex. A spell my mum often uses is glan, which heats food and water without a stove.” He fidgeted as he spoke, and Salem again noticed how pale the boy was.
“Daphne Fraser, of the Inverness Frasers. I’m ten. Mother taught me many useful spells I might need. Like capio, which will bring any object I need to me in a certain distance.”
Donahue nodded. “Yes, Miss Fraser, your mother is an excellent witch and Elder. Next?”
The blond boy swiped hair from his face and said, “Robert Ainsley, of the Clan Munro Ainsleys in Keswick. A spell I often use is imber, when I need to tame our malumcorni.”
Salem felt a little chill at his words. The Ainsleys were the only family aside from the Sinclairs and Lynxes who were directly descended from Robert Mor Munro. And now the three living descendants were all at school at the same time. What were the odds of that?
The brown haired girl spoke next. “Kimberly Morrison, from right here in Inverness. I don’t use many Everyday Spells, but one our cleaning faerie uses is niteo, which cleans our windows and mirrors.”
And last, it was Salem’s turn. With a churning stomach he said, “Salem Sinclair, from Lambeth, in London. My mum taught me many useful spells, especially to help her clean the house. One I use often is detergeo.”
Donahue nodded. “Very good, all of you. It seems you can join the twelve-year-olds in their Spells class without a hitch. Smith, if you need any tutoring, perhaps Miss Fraser or Mr. Sinclair can assist.”
Her eyes were bright and gleaming behind her spectacles. “Welcome to the UK Grand Coven. But your training has only just begun.”
Chapter 2
Mrs. Donahue left the children then, and a small, round man with a handlebar moustache entered.
“Hello, children. I am Mr. Boyle, and I teach Household Charms. However, these Charms also can assist you in other ways of life than just around the house or here at school. I like to test new students quickly and easily, so this will not take longer than twenty minutes. I will demonstrate a popular Charm, and you all will cast it after me, one by one.” He cleared his throat. “First is pronunciation. Repeat after me, with your hands at your sides: necto.”
He started with Caelum and then went down the line. Salem knew this spell. Necto was a knitting spell, and it could be used to mend many things, not just cloth. In a pinch, it could also hold things together.
Salem was the last to cast the spell, and he did it the quickest of them all, even better than Daphne, who smiled at him while he resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at Caelum and Michael.
“Very good. Now, your next test will be held in the castle dungeons, so if you would please follow me.” He turned and everyone began to follow in twos. Salem was at the back, but as he turned to take a step, he went sprawling face first into the stone floor. Only a quickly whispered spell stopped him from shattering his nose on impact.
Everyone except Daphne was snickering as Salem’s face flared red. She came to help him up and when he got to his feet, he nearly fell again. The laces on his worn, dirty trainers had been woven together with that spell. He knew he hadn’t done it to himself, and judging by the smirks on Smith and Lynx’s faces, it had to have been one of them.
“Mr. Sinclair, you must watch where you aim when you cast a charm like that,” Mr. Boyle scolded lightly. He wasn’t being mean, but Salem still felt about two inches tall under his gaze.
“I didn’t do it,” he insisted.
“No matter. Come now, fix your laces and let’s continue.”
Salem was angry and embarrassed. Why hadn’t the teacher believed him? It wasn’t as if there were a dozen or more kids in the class. There were only seven of them.
Daphne helped him up and he quickly righted his laces and they hurried to catch up with Boyle and the others. Salem was still fuming because of the prank. He despised being made fun of. His father did it enough; he didn’t need it at school, too.
Boyle led them down a flight of cold stone steps, their way lit by wall sconces alighted by green flames. Kimberly and Draven appeared nervous, Michael and Daphne curious, but Salem, Caelum, and Robert felt quite at home. Green flames were something only Clan Munro could create, out of their energy manipulation. It was one of the earliest things every magician in that Clan learnt to do as children.
Once they hit the bottom of the stairs, they were in a long hallway with doors on either side. Many were small and looked like they could be closets. There was a larger door straight ahead, and that was where Boyle led them.
“My third cousin teaches this class,” Daphne whispered. “I don’t know him well, but he and Mother used to be quite good friends as children.”
Boyle knocked on the dungeon door and then opened it. The room was large, half of it filled with desks, the other half filled with cabinets and cupboards stuffed with ingredients ranging from the mundane to the macabre, and cauldrons and other utensils needed for potion making.
Seated at the teacher’s desk was a rotund middle aged man with the same red hair as Daphne. He studied each child as they entered and stood in a semicircle around the desk.
“The new young ’uns,” Boyle said, his Scottish accent heavy. “You’ll get the older new students later today.”
“Very well. You may go. And for the love of Gaia, replace those green flames with something normal. I told Edelstone I hate those evil things,” the teacher grumbled.
Salem opened his mouth to say something and closed it again.
However, Daphne had no such tact. “They are not evil,” she said. “They’re an amazing skill.”
“Little Miss Fraser, kindly refrain from correcting and challenging me in my classroom,” the man said, standing up. “Hello, everyone. I am Maximus Fraser, and I teach Brewing and Medicinal Magic. While Brewing is a mandatory course, you may drop Medicinal Magic by the time you are fifteen if it is not to your liking. Of course, on day one you will not be brewing actual potions. It is required that I test your knowledge on ingredients and potions in theory, to decide where you need to begin.” His eyes glossed over all of them. “Start left to right, then.”
First up was Draven.
“Mr. Silver, what is the cleansing ingredient in a Gut Flushing Potion?”
“Freshly squeezed lemon juice, sir,” Draven replied.
Fraser nodded. “Good. Miss Morrison, how many fire ants are needed in a Flamethrower Potion?”
“Five hundred and seventy two, sir,” she said. That surprised Salem, she hadn’t acted as though she was interested in lessons thus far.
Michael was next, and he was asked how many times you stirred a cauldron of Cold Cure. “Ten?” he guessed.
Fraser sighed. “No, the correct answer is fifteen counter-clockwise. You.” He gestured to Caelum. “How long does a cauldron need to sit on a fire before ingredients are added?”
Caelum, shrugged. “Five minutes?”
Fraser gave him a haughty glare. “And here I thought Clan Munro was supposed to be proficient in potion making. The correct answer is it doesn’t. Some potions require the cauldron to be off the fire when ingredients are added.”
Caelum gave another blasé shrug.
That was a trick question, Salem thought.
“Ainsley, what is a bezoar and what does it do?”
The blond replied, “Stone found when you eviscerate goats. It has many magical healing properties.”
“Good. Miss Fraser, what is one of the three key ingredients in a wound cleaning solvent?”
Daphne smiled and said, “Witch hazel bark.”
Fraser smiled back at her. “Good. And you,” he said, the smile vanishing as he looked at Salem. “What do you add to a potion when its consistency is failing?”
It was another trick question, and Salem knew it. There was no right answer for this, though most other ten-year-olds would not have known that.
“Excuse me, sir, but this is a trick question,” he said. “A potion having the wrong consistency could be because of a number of things. And while adding spring water is most effective for most potions if they are too thick, there’s no way of knowing for sure. You’re better off scrapping the potion and starting fresh.”
Daphne was smirking, and he saw that Robert was, too. Mr. Fraser, however, looked furious.
“Only your first day and you’re already talking back to your superiors, Sinclair? Report to Mrs. Donahue when your lessons are done, and she will mete out a fitting punishment.”
Salem stood there, open mouthed. He had been played by a teacher, and he was somewhere between shocked and angry and embarrassed. That trick question was meant to draw him out, to get him in trouble.
Why would an adult do that to me? he wondered. Then again, he did it to Lynx, too. That snippy comment about being Clan Munro but rubbish at Brewing.
“But sir,” Daphne began, “he answered your question!”
“Quiet, Miss Fraser, or I will pay a visit to your mother,” Mr. Fraser threatened. “Now, to continue…”
Salem kept his head down for the next part of the test, which was a medical question. Only he, Daphne, and Draven got it correct, and because he was correct, Mr. Fraser looked furious. He wanted another reason to punish anyone in Clan Munro, and when Caelum and Robert both failed to answer the question, he chuckled almost gleefully.
When class ended, Salem felt sick with nerves. He and Daphne hung to the back of the small queue waiting to be taken for their next test.
“That was mean,” she whispered to him. “And totally unfair to you. And those two, too.”
Salem crossed his arms tightly, almost hugging himself. “It was wrong of him to do.”
“I should tell my mother,” she continued.
“No,” Salem said. “I don’t want to attract any more attention from Clan Fraser … no offence.”
Daphne smiled a little. “None taken. But I hope you remember, we’re not all like that.”
Salem sighed. “And I hope you don’t ever turn out like your relative back there.”
When official school began the next day, Salem found himself in the same classes as Daphne and Robert, and Draven as well with the exception of Brewing. Caelum and Michael were only in Everyday Spells and Household Charms, which was something of a relief to the boy.
Immediately, he knew he was their target. Why, he did not know. He had never said two words to them before they began belittling him.
He quickly realised that there was a severe power imbalance in the Coven. Even at ten, he knew what being mistreated meant. He had enough experience at home, as Daphne quickly found out.
The fire was roaring in the Common Room, and Salem had rolled up his baggy sleeves and Daphne gasped.
“Who hurt you?”
Along his arm were round scabs, not yet healed from the previous week.
He snatched his arm away and replied, “It’s nothing. Forget it.”
She grabbed his hand, and he felt that magical spark between them again. “It is something. It hurt you. Did Michael or Caelum do it?”
He shook his head. “I wish.”
“Then who?” she pressed.
Salem picked at the hem of his sweater with the hand she wasn’t holding. “My father. He’s the one I get my Munro blood from. He hates me and my mum.”
“But … that’s horrible!” Daphne cried. “How could he hurt you?”
If you only knew this wasn’t the only mark on my body thanks to him, Salem thought. Aloud he said, “I dunno. But I do know that one day I will be so powerful, no one will ever hurt me again. Not him. Not anyone.”
But they did hurt him still. Every day. In the halls. In class. In the castle courtyard. Anywhere they could, Michael and Caelum made it their mission to make Salem’s life as miserable as possible. He had no idea what he did wrong except be born to Clan Munro and like it.
He liked his powers, he liked the Darkness in his veins. He saw nothing different with embracing his heritage as Clan Fraser did with theirs. But to others, people like him and Robert Ainsley were problem children, scrutinised and punished for infractions both real and imagined. By classmates and teachers.
His only bright spot was Daphne. She was his first friend, his confidant, his partner in class, his everything. Her smile was like sunshine, her laugh like a bubbling brook. She inspired poetry in a boy who despised anything emotional, anything sentimental.
Every day they sat together, and every day Salem knew that he had at least one friend to last through the years of torment they called school.
At least, he hoped he did. Because she was Clan Fraser. And at any moment, there was a chance he could lose her forever thanks to naught but taught prejudice.
Chapter 3
Salem was beginning to despise school. Every morning he woke up and hid his head under the covers, hoping to disappear and wake up somewhere else. Anywhere else. Anywhere but there.
The only thing that got better for him was the fact that his father had passed away from raven flu, which he had contracted from the wild ravens Salem and his mother took care of.
One morning, when he was fifteen, before final exams for two of their classes were to begin, Robert cornered him at the kitchen table.
“Tell me you didn’t forget to study all week,” he said, smirking in a knowing but not cruel way.
“Huh? What do you mean?” Salem asked, pushing away his half full plate of breakfast.
“Y’know, the tests. You have been looking worse and worse all week. I figured it was exam related.”
Salem sighed. “You have no idea how much I wish that was the case. It’s Lynx and Smith, actually. I know you are sort of friends with them, but they have gotten progressively worse this year, since that threat was made to ‘out’ magical traitors. Who were, of course, Clan Munro. You’ve seen it. Daphne’s seen it.”
“And what does Daphne say about it?” Robert questioned.
Looking down at his potion-stained hands, Salem said, “She tells them they’re being daft, to stop. But…” He didn’t want to say his next words. How he felt that she wasn’t being protective enough. When the tables were turned, Salem always protected her fiercely. And until this year, she had done the same for him. But now things seemed to have changed, and not for the better.
He ran a hand through his black hair, which he had begun allowing to grow out ever since his father had died.
“But?” Robert prompted.
“She’s a Fraser. And I know she’s being pressured at home to disconnect from me, from all of us. Except Lynx. For some reason he’s a golden boy and the rest of us are merely stains on their silken robes that they want to get rid of before we ruin the value of the Coven.”
Robert laughed. “Nice analogy, mate. But you’re not wrong. Frasers live on a different frequency than the rest of us ‘mere magicians’. They think they are above it all. Above us all. Except the apprentices they dote on, because said apprentices think that Clan Fraser hung the bloody moon.”
Salem hated to agree with him, but he was right. He now had seen it with his own two eyes, and it was breaking his heart. Clan fissures had ended, or so the history books claimed, over a century ago. Yet somehow Fraser still made Munro feel as though they didn’t deserve to walk on the same planet as they.
“You think Daphne is going to hate me one day?” Salem asked quietly, toying with the handle of his teacup.
“D’you want the truth or to feel better?”
“Truth, thank you very much. I’ll give you Liar’s Lament if need be,” Salem said, smirking a little.
Robert drained his teacup and said, “I think Clan Fraser is filled with a bunch of stuck up snobby prats. Daphne seems different, but at her heart she’s the same as every other member of her Clan. And you need to be prepared for the worst.” He stood up and sent his dishes to the sink with magic. “See you in class.”
Salem watched him leave with his
school books under his arm. Thanks for the uplifting chat, he thought as he began to clear the table with a sweep of his hand. He grabbed his bag filled with books and sighed. Time to brave the torture chamber otherwise known as school once more. The only thing he had to look forward to was summer, where he could be alone and work on himself, on his magic, without being ridiculed.
As he approached the castle, he was relieved to see that Daphne was talking to Draven under the shade of one of the stone columns. No one else was in sight.
“Oi, Sal,” she called, waving. He walked over to them, hoping that Draven was okay with his presence. “Draven took the test for Brewing yesterday. We have got this one in the bag! It’s the wound solvent we brewed together that time in second year, when I didn’t want anyone to know I’d fallen off my Pege.”
Salem smiled a little. “That’s great. Thank you, Silver.”
He shrugged. “No big deal. You two are in the advanced class, so he might make it harder for you, though. Dunno.”
“We can handle whatever he throws at us,” Daphne said confidently. She looped her arm through Salem’s, looking up at him with big blue eyes. “Right?”
For a moment, as he looked at her beautiful, clear gaze, Salem was rendered speechless. It wasn’t fair to be so sweet, so lovely, and such a talented witch all at once. “Um, yeah. Right.” Magic coursed through him from her, as it had from the very first time they had touched. It only made him even more flustered. And as pale as he was, everyone nearby could see it in his reddened cheeks.
“Oh, what happened, Sinclair?” called Michael in the distance. He, Robert, and Caelum walked ahead and began to go up the steps of the castle as he called to Salem. “First time a girl’s ever touched you except your mum?”
“Piss off, Smith,” Daphne snapped. “You’re only upset because you couldn’t even get a girl to look at you in Soho’s red light district.”
At that, even Draven smiled, and Salem couldn’t contain his chuckles. What Daphne said wasn't true, however. Both Michael and Caelum could get a date with anyone they wanted. Michael played Pege Polo and Caelum was wealthy, well bred, and handsome. Still, the insult hurt Michael’s pride.