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Lost Cause
Eliza’s eyes widened and she felt her hands shake. Satisfied with this reaction, Professor Claeg stood tall and stalked away with a lopsided gait. Professor Kent stayed by their table, watching the other professor go while Mashu and Faye stared at Eliza. She felt shaky, her cat leapt onto her lap and she ran her fingers through his warm fur. “I’m—I’m gonna—I’m gonna go,” she said. “I’ll catch you guys later.” And she dashed out of the hall holding Pal firmly in her arms, feeling his little heartbeat against her chest.
They ran out into the back courtyard and made their way to a little gazebo among the neatly clipped hedges. Eliza created a warm ball of flames to hover in front of them, keeping the chill of the November afternoon at bay. This was the second time the subject of Eliza’s birth mother had come up this week. A few days earlier, in Sorcery, Professor Kent had also touched upon that long-buried subject.
Sorcery was one class that remained structurally the same one week after the other. They would start by performing spells they had been assigned the previous week. Professor Kent would go around and correct their wand movements or their pronunciation of incantations. He would then send a new list of spells floating out around the class. The incantations, wand movements, and intentions were described as clearly on the page as possible. Students were expected to return to class the following week having memorized and learned to perform each of the spells. The punishment for not successfully achieving the list of spells during the week was an agonizing few minutes at the end of each lesson when Professor Kent would call out those students who needed to return to earlier spells and continue practicing.
“In addition to this week’s assignment I would like Mr. Clemens to continue studying how to perform the light charm. You were barely able to cast a shadow with the amount of light you produced for us today. Miss Attiogbe, please give a little more attention to levitation. You’ll notice no one else sent any objects crashing into the ceiling.” He strolled haughtily up and down the rows of desks as he spoke.
“Miss Paladin. I’m sorry to say that listing the number of spells you have yet to master would take too much of your classmates’ time. I expect students to achieve a great deal in a short amount of time and since you began classes so late, you will have to continue to work very hard to catch up. After Christmas we will be doing much more advanced magic, as the basics should have been exhausted by then. It may be better if you drop this class and consider re-enrolling next year when you have more time to digest the material.”
Eliza had been fuming. She knew that she might have taken on more than she bargained for by signing up for a full course load her first semester, despite arriving a month behind. Still, she felt it insensitive for her teacher to call her out in front of everyone. The week prior, he had already insulted her by saying “Miss Paladin, you have adequately performed repairing spells, lighting a flame, stirring a pot, and conjuring water. There is a list of fifty-six spells you have not yet mastered. You perform some of the magic but with none of the finesse required to pass an exam. Please take the time to actually read the assignments and learn the incantations and wand movements. Stop trying to rely entirely on the intentions, which are where your strength lies.”
Eliza, of course, had not been able to master fifty-six spells in addition to the ten new ones set for them that week. She decided it was time to admit she could not do it alone and ask for more help. The principal had told her when she arrived that this could be organized for her benefit. She approached Professor Kent at the end of class.
“Professor Kent. Can I have a word?”
“Ah! Miss Paladin!” he smiled warmly. “How can I help?”
“You seem weirdly happy to see me, considering you give the impression of hating me in class.”
He raised an eyebrow at this. “I don’t have the time or the energy to hate you! I imagine it must be very difficult for you, only now discovering you have magic and trying to keep up at this school. It’s very fast-paced and very little time is spent nurturing students who are slower learners—” Eliza narrowed her eyes and balled her fists at this accusation. “I don’t hate you. I just don’t think you belong in my class.”
“How can you say that? I can do the magic; I can perform the spells. I just haven’t memorized every incantation yet!”
“Yes, which is why I suggested you leave my class and come back next year. This will give you the opportunity to master some of your other classes, in which I hear you are also struggling. And when you do come back, you will have had time to practice some of the first spells and be at the same level as our younger students. Perhaps your increased confidence from performing a dozen basic spells will allow you to progress at a better rate.”
Eliza resisted the urge to stamp her feet in rage like a child. She gritted her teeth and held her tongue as he continued, “In my country there is a lot more time spent educating magical youth, and always from a young age. The idea that magic develops later in certain people is not part of the system in England. The mature students here at Kentree were a surprise to me. You simply cannot keep up with the younger students. There is no reason to feel shame.”
Eliza could no longer keep it in. “Can’t you help me?” she demanded. “Instead of telling me to quit! I’m almost twenty years behind on my magical education—I don’t want to delay another year!”
“It might surprise you to find out that I do have a life outside of the classroom,” retorted Professor Kent. “I have my own projects I am working on. I don’t feel particularly inclined to volunteer my time to a lost cause.”
“Lost cause!”
“Yes, lost cause.” Professor Kent now betrayed a note of impatience. “If you didn’t have enough magic to register until you were—what, thirty?— I wonder why we are bothering. At this rate you won’t be able to transfigure a twig into a stick by the time you’re forty.”
Eliza flushed and remained speechless.
“Listen,” said Professor Kent, softening. “You’ve been excelling at all the physical branches of magic. Fire, water, earth, plants, magical tools (though you’ve yet to master wielding them). Why not dedicate yourself to those subjects, and leave the intangible magicks for those who were born with greater natural ability?”
Eliza clenched her jaw and bit back another retort. She had to remind herself that she had come to Professor Kent for help and that she would not be so easily discouraged. “What are the other projects you are working on?” Eliza asked, attempting for a calm and polite voice. She had learned throughout her career that men were more easily swayed when they thought you were interested in their lives. They simply loved talking about themselves.
“Oh!” Professor Kent exclaimed joyfully. “Why, something rather close to the subject we are discussing! Where does magic come from? How does it manifest, why, and how is it measured? I tried to discover the answers to these mysteries in Britain, but I was dissatisfied with the lack of available information. But here, magic is seen from a totally different angle. I want to understand: how does Kentree measure the level of power in an individual?
“It has always been a fact that some spells require more power and skill than others, but before coming here I had never known anyone to be able to measure that data. Then, knowing that, we should be able to ask why some individuals have magic when others do not. Why some are more gifted, or powerful than others? Why some Mundunces produce offspring capable of performing magic?”
Eliza’s heart was still beating hard in her chest from the series of insults she had endured, but she tried hard to think of a follow-up question that would show both interest and flattery. Her nostrils flared and she settled for a simple, “And what have you discovered so far?”
At this, Professor Kent had a pained expression. “Principal Crinwere does not wish to share the magic used by Kentree to measure power or to find students. Apparently, it could be dangerous in the wrong hands.” A shadow crossed his face momentarily. “Magic is most common among those who come from magical families. Mundunces who create magical offspring are rare, and I would love to determine what factors incite this. But the principal feels that the study is too political in nature to be of much academic use.” He shot a hard look at Eliza which nearly threw her off balance. “Are your parents Mundunces?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Eliza was stumped by the sudden question.
“A Mundunce is someone who has no magic,” Professor Kent explained in a tone that might be used when speaking to a particularly stupid person.
“I was adopted,” said Eliza. “I wouldn’t know if my birth parents were magical or mundane, or whatever.”
“I assume they must be. Mundunces.” Professor Kent said curling his lip distastefully.
“What makes you assume that?” asked Eliza irritably, not liking his tone once again.
Wand twirling in his left hand, Professor Kent looked as though he relished talking down to Eliza. “Your magic did not register for so long. Witches and warlocks from witching families usually display magic around eight years old. Thirty is unthinkable. If you were from a witching family in my country and not displaying magical ability until you were in your thirties you would long since have been encouraged to integrate with Mundunce society.”
Eliza thought back to her conversation on her first day at Kentree and hesitated for a moment. It didn’t seem enough that she knew that she had been magical all along. Despite Professor Kent being entirely frustrating, Eliza had a desire to prove herself worthy of inclusion. His barrage of insults ignited a desire to show him up.
“If I told you I have been performing magic for a lot longer, would you believe me?” asked Eliza, standing tall. “Someone tampered with my ability to use and see magic. They also put some kind of shield on me that prevented Kentree’s ability to detect the times when I did break through the spells and managed to create my own magic. I remember causing incredible things to happen my whole life—ever since I was little!” Eliza was swept up in her own story, she was feeling excited again remembering how she had caused so many little mishaps at her school playground.
“Each time I made something fly, or once I parted the water in a pond when my cousin had fallen in—I wondered if I was part of something greater.” Eliza leaned forward across the table conspiratorially. “Someone took that life from me. Someone took my magic and hid it. I couldn’t even see faeries until after I got into the enchanted pool.”
Professor Kent was looking at her as if he had found an incredible treasure. A mystery that needed solving was sitting in front of him. Eliza looked imploringly into his eyes. “I should have been here years ago. Holly told me. She said she only caught wind of me in September. But when Principal Crinwere consulted a crystal ball about my past, it was discovered that I had been performing powerful enough magic to attend this school since I was twelve! I ought to have been one of the youngest pupils ever to attend this school.
“Wasted potential,” finished Eliza bitterly.
Silence stretched between the two for several long moments.
“Let me see if I understand, someone laid enchantments upon you from a young age to make it difficult for anyone to detect your magic?”
“Yes.”
“Then, for good measure, they also tried to hide the magical world from you? That is to say, you could not see magic or understand that it existed?” asked Professor Kent.
With a pained shrug Eliza tried to explain, “More like I could only see as much as a—what did you call them? Mundane?”
“—Mundunce.”
“I could only see as much as a Mundunce could see. When I arrived here, I went into the enchanted pool in the school’s gardens and suddenly I could see so much that had been hidden from me before.”
Professor Kent nodded, interested. “They could not remove your magic, so they settled for hiding it from within and without... I wonder why they bothered. What could be gained from this? Only someone powerful could have pulled it off for so long...”
Eliza nodded, picking at a spot on the desk. “I can’t understand why they would have wanted to take my power like that. They must have known I would be magical from when I was a baby.”
“How did Kentree eventually discover you?”
“I started manifesting greater magic, with the help of my cat.”
“Then you refused to give up your power. You reclaimed what had always belonged to you and lo and behold your dreams came true.” Professor Kent looked like an idea had occurred to him suddenly. “Have you enrolled yourself into fortune telling?”
“No, I’ve been reading runes for years. I get accurate readings, but I tend to ignore them when it isn’t what I want to hear. Eventually I end up fulfilling the prophecy anyway, so it’s kind of pointless. Knowing what’s coming doesn’t give me the ability to overcome it.”
Professor Kent nodded and said, “You know you can use the runes to look backward as well as forward, don’t you? The person who conjured the spells upon you may have protected themselves from detection from Seers, but as you are the subject in the event, you will be able to See what others cannot. When you consult on behalf of someone else, the collective unconscious may hide things from you that you do not deserve to know. If you ask a question about yourself, you are guaranteed an answer. You own your truth. The power of it cannot be taken or hidden from you forever.”
Lost in thought at the prospect of finding out who had altered the path of her entire life, Eliza did not answer. It was not until Professor Kent spoke again that she remembered where she was or why she was there.
“Let’s meet Saturday night after dinner in my classroom. It will be empty at that time. We can practice your wand work, then.” He dismissed Eliza with a wave.