The sky had begun to dim. Arthur was returning to his dorm, freshly fed and lost in what he imagined was profound philosophizing, when a commanding voice sliced through the night air.
"Arthur."
He turned. A man stood on the path, his face devoid of particular emotion. It was the impassive mask Arthur imagined a god might wear. Deciding he wasn't quite above this figure yet, Arthur allowed a look of polite curiosity to surface.
"What can I do for you, Head Instructor?"
Arthur recognized him immediately. I believe he is teaching the Honor Class for the third-years in this four-year cycle. Has he come to invite me into it? No, the Head Instructors follow established procedures to the greatest extent; only the Headmaster could have so much freedom in the Academy. But what if it is the Headmaster who sent him?
"I am Head Instructor Sivan Ruarc Vigo, but you may refer to me as Vigo. I was the proctor of your Written Test during the Entrance Exam if you recall."
"Indeed you were, Head Instructor Vigo," Arthur replied smoothly.
Vigo's expression remained unreadable, his thick white mustache covering the corners of his mouth. "I was impressed by your performance on Magic Analysis. None were able to answer it in as much detail as you."
Vigo stepped closer. "Have you heard of the Magic Engineering course? My students call it an extremely difficult class that, normally, you may opt-in to take in your third year; but I think you will perform well. It begins at 22:00 and continues until the beginning of curfew. Because of this, it is considered a supplementary class; however, all students who currently take the class, and all students who've taken it in previous years, have chosen to attend. It is an extremely competitive course, with limited seats."
He paused, gauging Arthur's reaction. "Not all who apply are accepted, but it just so happens that one of the seats has opened because a student left at the beginning of this year for personal reasons."
Vigo clasped his hands behind his back. "This will replace your third-year Advanced Magic Theory class, but we will go over everything in it and expand onto it—Magic Language, Spell Composition, connections to the sciences. I would like to offer you their seat, if you are up to the task. If you pass, you will be given the same amount of credits as a third-year who takes it."
Arthur felt his heart hammer against his ribs. His face felt hot, his breath coming in shallow hitches; but he did not show it. He had only reacted this way once before, in the presence of a woman whose elegance and beauty rivaled his mother's.
Now, he felt it again.
This excitement!
No, I must control it! I. Must. Act. Calm.
He fought to suppress the grin threatening to split his face, but the battle was lost before it began.
"I accept, sir."
The Head Instructor's eyes narrowed. Behind the well-kept mustache, a devilish smile curled his lip.
"Good. We begin tomorrow. It will be in the first building you see after passing through the Inter-sector gate. Don't be late."
Vigo turned and walked away, hands still clasped at ease behind him.
Arthur watched him go, vibrating with triumph. The instructors see it too!
He resumed his walk to the dorm, smiling wildly to himself in the shadows, then composing his features into a mask of indifference whenever a student passed.
When he reached the entrance of the Northern Dormitory, his path was blocked. A gaggle of girls, at least ten of them, were crowded around the doors, their voices a cacophony of giggles and shrill demands.
In the center of the mass, Arthur recognized hair the same color and style as his own.
He didn't grit his teeth. Instead, he plastered on a condescending smile.
Fine. If you want to waste your time playing with girls, you do that, he thought. It'll just make it that much easier for me to surpass you.
He skirted the mob, entering through the side door. But there was no escape. Inside the main hallway, he found Cedric pressed against the wall, desperately trying to peel away the hands that kept grabbing at him.
Cedric locked eyes with Arthur. Desperation flashed across his face. He lunged, grabbing onto Arthur's ankle like a drowning man clutching driftwood.
Arthur's hollow composure shattered.
"Hey, what are you doing?! Get off of me!"
He tried to shake his leg free, but the girls surged forward, their grip relentless. Ultimately, it took a significant amount of motivational screaming before Arthur managed to extricate both himself and his brother from the swarm.
"Huff—thanks Arthur," Cedric panted, leaning against the wall. "You really saved me there! They just—Huff—wouldn't stop pulling!"
Arthur looked down at him, his eyes cold.
"If you didn't like them touching you, you should've told them to stop," Arthur said, his voice dripping with disdain. "And even better, you could report all of them to the instructors and get them all expelled if you really didn't like it. Do you want to do it, or should I? I do owe you for letting me share your Honor Class-exclusive room, after all."
What a waste of talent, Arthur thought, stepping over his brother's legs. But I'll fix that soon.
He walked away, leaving Cedric staring blankly from the floor.