Chapter Text
Baz
Monday 7th September 2015
I shouldn’t be in detention. I should be out on the football pitch.
As if this couldn’t get any worse, Simon Snow skulks into the classroom. It’s bad enough that I have to share a room with the boy I’m hopelessly in love with; now we have to spend detention together too?
He gives me what he probably thinks is a threatening glare before sitting at a desk at the back of the room, as far away as he can possibly get from my desk at the front. I can feel his eyes glowering at the back of my head. Snow’s been in an eternally bad mood since his perfect girlfriend, Agatha Wellbelove, broke up with him. I’ve been agonising over whether they broke up because Snow caught me holding Wellbelove’s hands at the end of last term. Guilt eats away at me thinking about it. It didn’t mean anything. The fact that he thinks I have a crush on Wellbelove is laughable - I’m hopelessly gay. I was just worried that she had caught me draining a rat and I was begging her to keep my secret.
Thankfully, she had no idea what secret I was on about. Meaning that she probably thought I was hitting on her. I can’t blame her for coming to that assumption - I’ve flirted with her in the past, trying to get on Snow’s nerves and, admittedly, trying to get her away from Snow.
What the hell is wrong with me?
But also, what the hell is wrong with the rest of the school for not catching on to the fact that there isn’t an ounce of heterosexuality in my body?
Philippa Stainton is also in here with us. I don’t know much about her, other than the fact that she was utterly obsessed with Snow in fifth year. Join the club.
“Miss Possibelf, I shouldn’t even be here,” I protest to the teacher in charge of detention, trying to see if I can get out of having to spend the next hour of my life here. “The phone that you confiscated from me earlier? It wasn’t even mine! It must have been planted on me. Or maybe it was a spell gone wrong.”
Miss Possibelf rolls her eyes. I can’t blame her; even to my own ears it sounds ridiculous. Why would someone go to the hassle of planting a phone on me just to land me in detention? And what kind of spell could have caused this? But I don’t have any other explanation.
“Wait, that’s how you got detention too?” Simon can’t help but ask me.
I turn around and nod.
“So did I.”
“Me too,” whines Philippa. “This sucks.”
“Even if I did have a phone at Watford, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to let it go off in lessons,” I point out.
“And where do you think I would get the money to buy a phone anyway?” Snow pipes up.
I roll my eyes. “Playing the pity card, as always. We get it, Snow, you’re a tragic orphan!”
He begins sputtering, probably in a fruitless attempt to insult me, but before he has a chance to, Miss Possibelf speaks up.
“If you keep arguing, there’ll be more detention in your future,” Miss Possibelf warns us sternly, shutting us up. “The three of you should get on with your homework. I’ll be back soon. Stay here.”
It seems strange that Miss Possibelf would leave us in detention without adult supervision, considering her strict nature, but she does just that and steps out of the classroom. After a moment, Philippa gets up and grabs a plastic cup, filling it with water from the cooler at the front of the classroom.
I get out my homework. I might as well do something productive. I’m fully prepared to sit in silence for this whole hour, while Snow wastes his time glowering at me.
Instead, Philippa breaks the silence.
“Alright, which one of you did this?”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, looking up at Philippa.
“Which one of you planted the phones in our bags? Or was it both of you?”
“Please, I would never work with Snow if my life depended on it,” I snort.
“Also, all three of us had phones in our bags. Why would one of us have done it?” Snow points out.
“To be a less likely suspect, obviously,” says Philippa.
“It’s weird that we all had phones in our bags, but it was probably someone’s attempt at a spell gone wrong and they were too embarrassed to admit it,” I say. “Let’s just all get through this hour of detention and then we never have to talk to each other again.”
Philippa rolls her eyes, reluctantly returning to her seat in the middle of the classroom, folding her arms in annoyance.
After a few moments of silence and deep concentration on my homework, a thudding noise jolts me back down to earth. I whip around in my seat to be met with the sight of Philippa on the floor, wheezing.
Snow, still sitting at the back of the classroom, gets up and rushes to Philippa’s side. Of course; ever the hero.
“Baz, cast something!” he screams at me.
“You’re the most powerful fucking magician in the world, you do it!” I know I shouldn’t argue at a time like this, but I can’t help myself.
Despite my outburst, I still try to cast some healing spells, but absolutely nothing is working. Snow also tries casting, but to no avail.
“What’s happening? Why can’t we cast anything?” I ask frantically. “Are we in a dead spot?” Surely this can’t be the work of the Humdrum? There don’t appear to be any dark creatures in the vicinity, after all.
Unless the Humdrum has finally given up on sending dark creatures to Watford and has now paid us a visit himself, draining the magic out of the school. Aleister Crowley, this is bad.
“Fuck, we’re going to have to do this the Normal way. Snow, empty Philippa’s bag, see if she has an EpiPen or something!”
He does just that; books, papers, keys and a purse tumble out of the bag. Snow rummages through her belongings, but there’s no EpiPen in sight. He races towards Miss Possibelf’s desk and grabs one of the confiscated phones out of the top drawer.
“Snow, what are you doing?” I yell.
“Calling an ambulance!” he retorts, as if I’m an idiot.
“You can’t call the Normal emergency services!” I remind him. “What are you going to tell them, that we need them to come to our magickal school that they can’t see because of the wards? Go and get Miss Possibelf!” He hurries out of the room.
Someone must be able to get the wards down; probably the Mage. Then we could just spell the paramedics silly so they wouldn’t remember that they were ever in a magickal school.
“Philippa, where do you keep your EpiPen? Is it on your person?” She can’t talk. I dig around in the pockets of her green school blazer, but there’s nothing to be found other than some tissues and lip balm.
A few moments later, Miss Possibelf returns. She stares at Philippa in horror before telling me that Snow has gone to the nurse’s office to find an EpiPen there.
Simon
I’m rummaging through the cupboards frantically, leaving a wake of destruction behind. Why the fuck can’t I find a single EpiPen in the nurse’s office of all places? The nurse isn’t here so I can’t ask for her help.
The Minotaur suddenly appears behind me. Thank magic for some actual adult supervision.
“I’ve looked everywhere, Sir,” I sputter breathlessly to him. “I can’t find any EpiPens.”
The Minotaur must have been filled in on the situation somehow because he’s wearing a horrified expression on his face as he also starts to search for an EpiPen in a frenzy.
“Simon, let Miss Possibelf know that we haven’t found anything yet. I’ll keep looking.”
As I race back to the classroom, I hear the Minotaur speak into the phone, “We need to take the wards down. This is an emergency.”
As I run back into the classroom, Baz and Miss Possibelf look up at me with desperation painted across their faces.
“I couldn’t find any EpiPens! The Minotaur is still looking.”
Just then, the Mage arrives, keeping his composure as always. My stomach drops at the sight of him. The last time I saw him, he was trying to convince me to leave Watford, claiming that it wasn’t safe for me to be here. I never defy his orders, but this time I had to put my foot down. I can’t leave Watford in my final year; even though eighth year is optional and my magic most likely isn’t going to drastically improve by being here, leaving early would hurt too much.
“Sir, we can’t cast anything,” I say, feeling the need to explain myself. I’m the Chosen One, yet I haven’t been able to save the day.
“Open Sesame!” The Mage casts on a cupboard door. He must be testing out a simple spell before using any magic on Philippa, to see if he can cast anything.
However, it’s to no avail.
I know it’s not the time, but my shoulders relax a little and I feel like less of a failure, knowing that even the Mage can’t cast anything.
“This surely can’t be the work of the Humdrum,” says the Mage thoughtfully. “It doesn’t feel like a dead spot.”
Baz is rolling his eyes and tapping his right foot impatiently.
“There’s a girl dying over here! We don’t have time for this.” Baz storms out of the room dramatically; theatrics are one of the things he does best. Actually, there’s a long list of what he does best. Bastard.
I don’t know where he’s going, but I desperately wish I could follow him and be anywhere but here.
“Sir, can we take the wards down?” I ask the Mage urgently.
“No. It’s an extremely complicated process and we don’t have enough time for that.”
The Minotaur appears at the door of the classroom then, alongside Nurse Morgan.
“There should be a whole stash of EpiPens in my office, but they’re not there!” Nurse Morgan says frantically.
“In that case, we need to drive Philippa to the hospital,” the Mage says decisively.
I’m gobsmacked as the Mage carries Philippa out of the classroom with the assistance of the Minotaur and Nurse Morgan. How can he be so calm about one of his students being on the verge of death?
I try to compose myself. If the Mage isn’t stressed, there must be a good reason for it. Maybe Philippa’s seizure or whatever kind of reaction she had isn’t that serious.
Miss Possibelf is standing at the front of the classroom, staring at the spot where Philippa was struggling to breathe just a few moments ago.
“How did this happen?” Miss Possibelf asks, turning to me.
“I-I have no idea,” I say dumbly. “I mean - Philippa drank some water and then she just…collapsed.”
Unsure of what to do with myself next, I feel a wave of relief wash over my body as Baz returns to the classroom.
“What happened? Where’s Philippa?” he asks.
“The Mage is taking her to the hospital,” I explain.
Baz eyes me suspiciously. “It feels…wrong…to leave Philippa there after all this. Should we join them?”
He has a point. Before I have a chance to respond though, Miss Possibelf cuts in with a curt, “No, that will not be necessary. The Mage has the situation under control. You’ve both witnessed a traumatic event and the best thing you can do for yourselves right now is to leave.”
I guess detention’s cancelled then.
Baz
After Miss Possibelf dismisses us, Snow and I stand outside the school building, neither of us knowing what to do with ourselves. I know I’m supposed to hate him, but it’s slightly comforting having him by my side after witnessing that horrific ordeal.
I take a cigarette out of my blazer pocket and instinctively pull my wand down my sleeve to light it. When nothing happens, I remember with a sinking feeling that our magic isn’t working.
“Since when do you smoke?” Simon asks.
“Since I just witnessed a classmate collapse in front of us,” I retort. He doesn’t argue with that.
“Want to go back to our room?”
I should go hunting, but I’m too emotionally knackered, so I just nod instead. I’ll have to make my trip to the Catacombs later instead.
I’m not used to walking with Snow to our room. Usually he’s traipsing behind me, but now we’re awkwardly walking alongside each other.
“Do you think Philippa will be okay?” Snow asks idiotically.
His stupidity warrants a much more sarcastic response, but I simply say, “Somehow, I don’t think so.”