“Has anyone found Kietel?”
Maeve’s eyes moved slowly to the Draconem Student that had spoken.
“The allegations that Kietel has played a role in aiding the German human army in their civilian attacks is purely speculation,” said Professor Wadsworth. “Now, on with todays’s lesson.”
Maeve knew that was a lie. The truth wasn’t public knowledge, and the Magical papers like the Daily Divination, which were considering the most reputable by the Double O, sure as hell wasn’t going to print in the papers that a Supreme Magical had gone rouge, much less one from their own office.
That weekend, early in the morning, Maeve headed to The Wings, a letter to her Father in hand. He would be wanting to know the arrangements she had made to remedy her Alchemy problem, though she decidedly left out that the plan included a handsome young man. Arguably the most handsome one at school.
Her Father had nearly fainted over the summer when she waltzed “a little too closely” at a party with Alphard Mavros, so she felt it best not to perpetuate any anxiety he might have.
She reached the base of the winding stone spiral staircase to what was once a tower full of owls, ravens, and hawks. Before the invention of the Letter Desk Charm, Magicals strictly corresponded through birds, or “on the wings,” a phrase which remained despite the modern use of a writing desk.
At the top of the tower were a few ravens and a brown barn owl. They perched on small carved archways of all sizes that stretched high into the tower. Now most of those archways sat empty. And The Wings was filled with chestnuts stained writing desks.
Maeve placed the letter to her father on one of them. It disappeared with a POP, and realms away at Sinclair Estates appeared on her father’s own writing desk.
Malachite was unsurprisingly on time for their tutoring lesson, holding open the door to the library for her. Once they were seated in Maeve’s preferred corner, they began working quickly. After about an hour of nothing but Alchemy theory, Mal veered off topic.
“In terms of your Charms work, I’d like to ask you something.”
“Sure.” Maeve withdrew from her parchment.
“Was it a memory renewal charm?”
Maeve smiled. If there was one thing she would talk freely about, it was this.
Mal continued. “The article published in The Starlight Gazette didn’t specify. And I can’t help but notice there are no such credible charms.”
“An astute observation,” she commended him. “But no.”
“Have you considered how useful such a charm could be?”
“I have. Though, I’ll admit I am much more interested in false memories and how to break them… how to make them.”
“And that’s what you did for The Orator’s Office this summer?”
Maeve nodded, proudly. Mal retreated into his own thoughts for a moment.
Maeve brought him back to reality when she spoke. “Are you in need of a memory renewal?”
“No,” said Mal sweetly. “Does the Orator’s Office know you can jump through minds?”
“Yes,” said Maeve.
His brows pulled together. “Did you work on that this summer as well?”
“I-” she started, and then hesitated, remembering that her father had been against her demonstrating her ability to The Orator’s Office.
Mal’s brows flicked up. Maeve sighed.
“I did, yes,” she answered finally.
“How does it work?”
“It’s not entirely clear to me,” she said. “It’s like a door opens, and I just have to walk through.”
Mal shook his head slightly.
