Minerva Gold and the Wand of Silver Pt. 10

"I took a promise in my own name," Harry said, grimly. "I have very few things in my own possession, my word is one of them."

Gina subsided, muttering under her breath.

"Does the vampire situation in the dungeon have to do with the Enragé?" Kat asked.

"The what?" Harry asked.

A few minutes later, Harry was looking downright nervous. "Hexgramatica is the most secure jail in the whole of the world - easily. Anything being kept here can't have escaped. If it's French, then it must have been captured a few centuries ago - the recent alliance between England and France means that we're not quite in the habit of taking their stuff anymore." His lips quirked slightly. "Action Française would complain if no one else would."

"Who?" Gina asked.

Kat, Harry and Minerva ignored her. Minerva sighed. "The entity in the cell? She...she was definitely a she...she asked the date. Hearing it was the twentieth century seemed to shock her. But also, she spoke modern English. If she was from eight hundred years before and snagged during the Hundred Years War right after Agincourt, wouldn't she speak an entirely different language?"

"Maybe she had a library!" Gina suggested. "Or she gets interrogated by professors."

"Professor Stengard did visit them," Minerva said.

"Well, there you go!" Gina spread her hands.

Minerva rubbed her hands along her shoulders. "I want to talk to her again."

"Absolutely not!" Everyone else in the room said, at the same time.

Before Minerva could argue, before the debate could continue, a ringing bell came through the window. Everyone walked to it - and there, a prefect from each of the five houses walked along, with their tall caps, ringing bells and calling out.

"All Hexgramatica students form up! All students form up!"

"I guess they cleared out the castle," Minerva said, as Kat nodded.

The others started to go, to head out. Minerva snagged onto Kat's hand, tugging her to a stop. Her voice was quiet.

"Kat," she said. "I..." She blushed. She had been through so many frank, embarrassing moments today. What was one more? She forced her voice to be even. "In bed, when we're together, you can...growl. And call me bitch. And keep me as yours." She licked her lips. "I-In bed. Do you understand that?"

Kat's blush was adorable. Minerva wanted to kiss her cheek.

"Ja," she whispered. "I am understanding this. It is for play. Not for real."

"Yes, exactly," Minerva said.

Kat nodded.

Minerva gripped her hand then drew it up. She was thinking she would kiss Kat's knuckles. But some impulse...drove her to place her hand on her neck. Kat's fingers closed, almost reflexively, and squeezed Minerva's neck, the pressure slight enough that it thrilled, but gentle enough it'd leave no mark or bruise. Minerva whispered.

"In bed, though..."

"...anything goes?" Kat finished her sentence.

Minerva slid her hand, slowly, to Kat's wrist and squeezed her. The fingers around her throat tightened just a bit more. Minerva let out a noise that she had never made before - something high and needy and whimpery. Kat's thumb slid along her lips. Minerva's lips parted and Kat's thumb pressed against her, the claw-tip that sprang from it teasing the soft flesh of Minerva's tongue. Minerva sucked, needily. Wanting.

Kat's grin was, and there was no other word to use...wolfish.

***

"The vampire situation has been resolved to the faculty's satisfaction, and with concerns to your safety," Professor Stevenson said, standing before the gathered students. "You may now return to the school, though, each student will need to report to their house head for a check to ensure you're not...ahem...compromised."

Students murmured to one another. Minerva felt a nervous tingle rush along her spine. When she came to Professor Ravenwood, after what felt like an eternity of waiting in line under the brilliant harshness of the sun, she was so wound up, she was sure that Ravenwood would see through her without needing a single spell at all. But Professor Ravenwood simply waved her wand and said: "Wif Carrien Trýwþ."

Magic struck Minerva's chest and she felt her tongue grow fat and heavy. She felt as if she was floating.

"Did you interact with the vampire that was prowling the grounds?" she asked.

"No," Minerva said.

"Did the vampire influence you in any way?" Ravenwood asked.

"No," Minerva said.

"All right, you can go in," Ravenwood said, twitching her wand. The heaviness of Minerva's tongue felt as if it was deflating. There had been no sense of...compulsion. She wondered what might have happened if she hadn't had the memories removed and had said that? Would her tongue have burst into flames? She'd have to do some reading on truth spells.

Hexgramatica smelled strongly of garlic as the students filtered in, which produced a prodigious string of sneezing, coughing, sniffling and clear irritation across the student body. Minerva noticed that Harry and Robert in House Glintfair both looked miserable - but so did Gregory and Bellatrix and, to her surprise, Selene. Noticing her watching, Selene ambled to Minerva, sniffing as she did so.

"Congenital allergies to garlic is extremely common in wizards," she said.

"Oh?" Minerva asked.

"Vampire sex was extremely popular in the 9th century," Selene said, seriously.

"I...see..." Minerva said.

"I rather wish I had met a vampire," Selene said, sniffing. "Oh well. I'm going to expose myself to some magical reagents."

"I...have fun?" Minerva asked, not entirely sure if Selene was jesting.

"Oh, did you have fun with Alotexis?" Selene asked, pausing and turning back - she didn't even try and lower her voice. Fortunately, the general misery of the student body seemed to be as an effective mask against preying ears as anyone else.

"Loads," Minerva said, her voice dry. "Do you know why they stopped using it for spying?"

"Astral beasts, yes," Selene said, then cocked her head, birdlike. "Didn't you?"

***

Minerva spent the next week in a state of near constant terror that someone would notice that she had a hole in her memories, that she had a bottle of them contained under her bed, hidden and locked away.

No one did.

She hadn't made enough close friends outside of the knot of people who already knew for them to call her out on things. And those that knew provided her with some cover, whispering some gossip to her when they had a chance between their classes. The lessons she had studied so earnestly during the weeks she now missed remained at the tip of her tongue when recalled, and as she was questioned and quizzed, she found the knowledge shifting from instinctive, reflective and rote positions into something she...actually understood and knew.

Classes continued to be a mixture of fascinating and terrifying, with memorization, practice, study, history. And between them all, Minerva went to the library and...there...

She learned something infuriating.

"There's no such thing!" She exclaimed. "I've read up on every French monster from the Dahu to the Guivre and I've found no such thing as an Enragé!" She flung the toothed, tongued, breathing book she had been reading shut with a crash. The beast whimpered and the eyes on the cover looked reproachfully at her - but Minerva was too cross to feel guilty immediately. Across from her, Selene frowned at her. The House Wainscove colors looked rather fetching on Selen, save for the fact that she had put several articles of clothing on backwards.

"Maybe it's German?" she asked.

Minerva frowned.

"Or Russian," Selene said, quietly. "The Russians had French aristocrats. At least, until they killed them all. Say, do you think the Communists use guillotines?"

"No, they mostly used rifles," Minerva muttered. Her fingers brushed slowly along her book, calming its whimpering. Her brow furrowed and she leaned back within the library, while the librarian walked over and frowned at the pair of them. Seeing no more outbursts, the librarian left them in peace. Minerva ignored them. She knew she had an essay to write on potions for her next class, but her brain kept worrying at the quandary.

French...centuries old...She paused. "Which side did the wizards take in the French Revolution?" she asked, curiously.

"Too soon to say," Selene said, placidly.

Minerva snorted.

"Are you going to join a club? They're having their sign ups this afternoon," Selene said. "Maybe there's a revolution club?"

Minerva frowned. "I doubt it."

Five minutes later, Minerva found herself standing beside Selene, looking out at the central clearing before the keep of Hexgramatica, covered in bunting, stands and signs, and Minerva was forced to say: "I may have been mistaken."

There were chess clubs and broomflying clubs and, most interesting of all for Minerva, a large red and black sign for the LITERARY FELLOWSHIP with a stylized rose next to the logo, blooming with a book inside of it. But there were also clubs with a more...political bent. There was a pair of Union Jacks beside the NAVY SOCIETY.

Minerva frowned, fiercely, as she saw that one of the biggest signs was for the ARS MAGIKA SOCIETY, complete with fist gripping a bundle of arrows, flanked by lightning bolts. Students flocked throughout the area, chatting and laughing and signing up.

Selene smiled brightly. "Oh, it's going much better than last year," she said.

"You're a first year!" Minerva said. "How would you know how it went last year?"

"I listened in on two third years - the teachers have been trying to restart school clubs ever since the War," Selene said. "It seems if they want them back, they should raise more ghosts." She started to walk towards the HOROSCOPE SOCIETY with a cheerful humming sound. Minerva followed after, not really wanting to be alone in this crowd.

The girls at the horoscope society seemed quite friendly - though they were, like many people, nonplussed by Selene immediately asking them about tantric arts. Minerva found her eyes drifting over to the Ars Magicka table. Quite a few students were gathering around it. Quite a few were leaving with black and silver armbands. Her hackles rose and her shoulders tensed...and then she whispered to Selene. "I'm going to be checking the book club, if that is quite all right?"

"Yes, do so!" Selen said, firmly. "You love books. They are your friends."

Minerva chuckled and started to walk away, thinking to herself. Yes, they were her friends. But...she had more friends than just books. She saw Harry Perry walking with Gina, who was dragging him to the FOOTBALL FELLOWSHIP. Gina beamed and waved at her - while a voice called out.

"Minerva! Minerva!"

Minerva turned her head, and her blood ran cold.

A blond, blue eyed girl from House Glintfaire - one that Minrva recognized but could not name - was walking towards her...wearing a black and silver armband. "Minerva, you're one of the most impressive members of the Schross-Sableknight family - everyone's been talking about your latest evocation scores."

Minerva did not respond.

"Oh, right, forgive me, I'm Leslie, Leslie Browning-Darenwood!" The Glintfaire girl said. "And you're friends with Harry Perry, despite being in House Sildanis. That's the kind of forward thinking magical unity that we love to see in Ars Magika. I heard that you were raised among Sleepers - but you've adopted to our world so well! Blood will out, as they say."

"Quite," Minerva said.

"And we need as many wizards as we can get in the community," Leslie said, earnestly. "Do you want to join the Ars Magicka society?"

Minerva wanted to scream in her face. I'm Jewish! Jewish! Jewish! She wanted to see Leslie recoil like Minerva was some crawling, wriggling thing under a rock. She wanted to pick up a rock and- Minerva cut off every feeling she had and shook her head. "No, thank you. I'm trying to remain apolitical."

"Well, apoliticism only supports the enemy of wizarding kind," Leslie said primly.

Minerva knew she should just walk away. "And who, exactly, is that?" she asked. "Define your terms, Darenwood."

Leslie didn't even seem to notice the challenge. She launched into what was clearly a practiced patter, obviously proud of having a chance to give the pitch.

"The enemy is anyone against wizarding attempt to organize to protect our interests. We are teetering on the brink as Sleeper institutions attempt to strangle what they can't even see. Their stock market collapse ruined our lives, our businesses, and for what? So some mageblind mundanes could make a few hundred thousand more pounds?" She sniffed. "Look at what it's come to; thanks to their war, we have to be here because there aren't enough boys left."

Which institutions. Be specific. The words burned on Minerva's tongue. She held it back...but instead, as if she was a loaded and cocked gun that had been dropped, the words came out again.

"Ah, so these mighty Sleepers, completely unaware that we even exist are able to control despite the fact that I can wave my wand and make them do anything I want. Hmm. Yes. Quite convincing."

Leslie's voice went from warm to icy. "I see that you don't really understand the economic-"

"I grew up in a damn shoebox," Minerva snapped, cutting her off. "I worked for a prig that was barely fit to tie my shoes - but he made fifty times what I made because his father owned the company and he was a man. I know a whole lot more about economic concerns than you ever have."

Leslie looked as if nothing in her memorized playbook had ever covered this kind of response. She scowled, actual anger sparking in her eyes. "... I think you've lived too long among the mundanes; you simply don't understand the oppression we wizards have been placed into! We have to hide ourselves from the Sleepers, or else they would wake like a tiger and devour us."

"Oppression?" Minerva spluttered.

"Yes! Have you not noticed how we are repressed, forced to hide, forced to keep our ways, our means secret. Do mundanes not teach about witch burnings? It's as if we're Christians during the days of the Roman Empire, with our choices to be either to lie and pretend we're not wizards or to be fed to the lions! It's-"

The feeling of what happened next seemed to come in reverse order to what happened. Minerva felt the ache of her knuckles, the trembling of her heart, the roaring of blood in her ears. Then she heard the gasps. Then the crack. Then the grunt. Then the red haze in her eyes cleared as she saw Leslie, her arms sprawled to either side of her, laying back on the grass. Her lip bled as she gaped up at Minerva, her expression completely stunned.

Oh. Minerva thought. Oh dear. Her knuckles were still white, her fingers clenched into a fist.

She half expected Leslie to fall back into the same patter.

But...

Instead...

Her face twisted. A mask of pure rage settled and her eyes flashed vicious hate. "I accept," she said, her voice even as she started to stand. Her lips curled. "As the challenged party, I can choose weapons. Wand and shortsword."

Minerva blinked again.

"...oh," she said, quietly.

TO BE CONTINUED