Love Crafted - Chapter 27
“Dreamer, you can’t…” Abigail sighed and pressed her face into her hands.
You shuffle a little and look back into the corridor you two just exited. You can still hear the boy with the pet wolf protesting at the old lady with increasing desperation, and Wuffles’ whine can be heard quite clearly over even that.
“Okay,” you tell Abigail. “I’m going to fix everything.”
With that, you slip your hand out of Abigail’s and move back into the corridor, then into room two. The shouting stops for a moment as everyone looks at you. “Can I help you sweetie?” the old lady asks.
You take in Wuffles, who is a big grey dog but bigger, and Wuffle’s master who is wearing the same thing as Abigail, but instead of being cute like Abigail he’s a lanky boy with acne. “Hey,” you say. “So, old lady, you should accept Wuffles as a familiar even if he’s not a very good one.”
“I should?” she asks. “But he’s so… untentacular.”
“That’s true,” You agree. “But he has hair, which is kind of like tentacles.”
“Ah,” she says and nods.
“Uh,” Wuffle’s master says. “What?”
You smile at him. “You’re welcome. I’m going to pat Wuffles now, okay?” You move over to the big wolf who eyes you really suspiciously and reach out a hand to pat his head.
Wuffles bites your hand, teeth sinking into your skin before he tries to wiggle you from side to side like a big Dreamer-shaped dogtoy. You, of course, aren’t fond of that idea so your tentacles grab onto your momentum and tell it to go away. You only moved a tiny bit, which is okay you guess.
“Wuffles, no!” Wuffle’s master says before he tries to free you hand.
“It’s okay,” you say. “Wuffles was just afraid.” You wrap Wuffles in a reassuring amount of tentacles and pry your hand from out of his teeth. “It’s okay Wuffles. I’ll pat you later, when you’re more ready for it,” you say before wiping the blood and a few fingers off on your skirts. “Anyway, I need to go now. Bye.”
“Good bye!” the old lady says.
You return to Abigail and slip most of your hand in hers. “I’m back,” you say.
She smiles down at you. “Good! I was just rea–” she lowers the pamphlet she’s holding and raises her hand. Her face goes really white, which makes her freckles stand out a bunch. “What happened to your hand?” she squeaks.
“Wuffles.”
“We need to find the nurse’s office,” Abigail says.
You roll your eyes, just like she taught you, and tear your hand off with some tentacles to fling it into a nearby trash bin. Pinching your brow a little you focus and grow a new hand from some spare flesh you have laying around. “New hand!” You exclaim. “Never held before.” You wiggle it at Abigail and she grabs it to see if its hurt, which is silly. If you made a mistake you’d just grow another.
Then Abigail wraps you in a surprise hug and you hum in happy victory. You must be doing a really good job as a familiar to be getting surprise hugs.
“Let’s clean your dress up as best we can before the assembly,” Abigail says when she lets you go.
“I have new ones I can change into,” you tell her. Still, she drags you into a ladies room and insists on wiping all the blood and extra fingers off. She doesn’t even let you nibble on them before tossing them away.
Five minutes later you and Abigail are all freshened up and walking into a big room with lots of chairs and a stage at the far end. A few people with the flat hats of professors are on the stage, as well as a man with a hat that looks like a sideways boat with lots of tassels on it. His robes are really pretty, with lots of little stars sown in and a bunch of different layers.
He looks like a cake.
“That’s the headmaster,” Abigail says when she sees where you’re looking. She pulls you into one of the rearmost rows of seats and sits next to a girl with hair that’s just a shade away from pink who’s petting a white thing on her lap. “I heard that he was a warlock before becoming headmaster.”
“He was,” the girl next to Abigail says. “Warlock of the first rank for nearly ten years. He has an impressive academic pedigree too.” She smiles. “Ah, sorry. My name is Maddie. This is Cutebee.” She lifts her cat, revealing that it has beady red eyes and big floppy ears.
:Oh, hi Maddie,” Abigails says. You can feel the shyness trying to cling to her. “Ah, I’m Abigail, this is Dreamer, and it’s a pleasure to meet you and… Cutebee.”
“My brother named him,” the girl says as she hugs the cat thing closer. It’s still eyeing you.
You decide that you don’t trust this cat and will eat it as soon as you can.
There’s a sudden influx of students and you need to get up from your uncomfortable chair to let some pass. By the time the rush is over the hall is filled with familiars making unfamiliar noises and a sea of pointed hats that bob and wobble along with their owner’s heads.
The headmaster walks to the centre of the stage and reaches a hand into his robes. He comes out with a pinch of dust and a thing that looks like a stopwatch. With quick, sure gestures, he does something magical, then spreads the dust in the air in a magic circle, the grains hanging there immobile until he channels through them.
He clears his throat and his voice is loud and clear across the entire room.
“I am not one for speeches,” he declares. “Welcome to Five Peaks Magical Academy. You will learn magic and science and the finer arts here. If you fail to learn you will be rejected. Learn well and you shall pass. Surpass our expectations and you will be richly rewarded with opportunities that you would never find elsewhere. Fail to behave and you will meet with harsh punishments. That is all.”
He spins on his heel and walks to the side of the platform, arms crossed before his chest as a second, much nicer looking professor steps up where he was. She has a flat-topped hat like the others, but it’s tipped way back to show off her soft features. “Hello everyone, I’m Professor Clearwater, I will be teaching your very first class this year, Magical Preparations and Rituals, which will begin in approximately two hours. Until that time you are encouraged to explore the Academy grounds and partake in some lunch. If you find yourself lost, ask a member of staff or a senior for direction. Maps are provided at the back as well. Failing to attend would be hugely disappointing.” She smiled. “Before I let you go, I want to wish you all a wonderful time in our school.”