Page 65 of The Holy Academy of Witches

“Hardly, you crossed the finish line just after Sage.”

“Oh Sage is it? Very familiar…”

“Give it a rest Dorcas, it’s boring.”

She gave me a cool look before tossing her long white braids over her shoulder, “Let’s just hope I see my name on that sheet tomorrow in second place and no further down.”

“I need to head to class. See you at the dormitory later, Dorcas.” I turned away as she shook her head, brushing past me.

My phone vibrated with a text as I walked up the stone steps which led to the eastern wing of the Academy.

Teddy: Told you I was a hero??I’ve got a class too… talk later?

Adeline: Of course, I need to hear more about this heroism of yours x

Teddy: Oh I’m very heroic! Not to brag or anything but I’m basically Superman.

Adeline: Superman, really? Wow, I’m impressed x

Teddy: You should be. I’m VERY impressive.

I felt my skin grow hot at his words and a faint blush creep up my neck. Putting my phone away, I continued my ascension up the steep staircase. My heels clicked pleasantly against the rough stone with each step. Turning left, I joined the queue of students gathering outside of Professor Qadir’s classroom.

A worn but elegant carpet runner was laid over the stones along the corridor, stretching the full length of the hallway. The panelled walls were filled with gilded framed oil paintings depicting witches and warlocks of note through the ages, as well as picturesque locations that seemed to have been chosen for their beauty rather than any significance.

* * *

As the bell rang to signal the end of the two hour lecture I made my way to the front of the classroom, lingering till all the other students had filed out. Professor Qadir lifted his head and startled as he noticed my presence.

“M… Miss Alva, can I help you?” He busied himself with the paperwork on his desk, though the slight tremble in his fingers betrayed his nerves at being accosted by the headmistress’s daughter.

“I was just wondering if I could pick your brain about something Professor?”

“Well, of course I’ll try my best…”

“Excellent,” I pulled up a nearby chair, dragging it to his desk. When he didn’t move I motioned for him to sit. Which he complied with instantly. Utterly spineless, I wonder where my mother kept his balls. “So, I was doing some light reading, for my own personal enjoyment, around the origins of cursing in 18th century Ireland,” Professor Qadir visibly relaxed at the topic.

“Ah, yes yes…”

“Are there any lesser known texts you would consider worthy of a read concerning it’s applications to modern day casting?”

He leaned back in his chair, and pondered the question, a hand stroking his dark wiry beard. “Have you looked at the texts by Brennan?” At the shake of my head he continued, “He was quite the accomplished historian, though not often credited as such due to a spot of bother…” at my questioning look he sighed, “he went quite mad and was held accountable for the burning of an entire village, women and children included. Flaying curse… not pretty.”

I swore under my breath to which Qadir nodded seriously.

“Why?!” I asked.

“It was thought that he used himself as a test subject for some of his more creative curses… Nevertheless, his published texts, though difficult to obtain, are an interesting read about the origins of curses still used today by witches and warlocks.”

“Brennan, you said?” I asked, making a note in the back of a notepad.

“Yes. Is… Is that all?”

“Oh, yes. Thank you Professor.”

“Oh good, I mean no problem, happy to be of assistance, always happy to help where curses and casting are concerned.”

I swept from the room, still thinking about what he had said, mass-murder aside, the text sounded promising. I made a mental note to have a look in the library before I met Sage that evening and went on to my next lesson.

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