William Calhoun and the Black Feather. Book I
Chapter 10 Featherology

The first morning of October was rather cold for that time of year. Today, William was going to have the first class in the Preparatory Course, which traditionally started from a series of Featherology lessons. And so, that cold October morning he woke up to a strong pain in his left hand. Most likely, last night after an eventful day, he fell asleep in an uncomfortable position. He sat up in his bed, massaged his hand to drive the pain away, then rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock. It showed two minutes to eight. Horrified to replace that the class was going to begin in two minutes, he jumped off his bed, pulled on jeans and a sweater and, remembering to take out his feathermap together with his magic feather from under the pillow, dashed to the hallway. He put the shoes and the jacket on and unfolded his feathermap, holding his feather at the ready. There were shiny bright-red letters on the feathermap, showing a new address: ‘Number 9, Norfolk Street’. Giving the house one last look, William made sure that the Hoggarts had already left for work. So, there was nobody else in the house apart from him. He held his feather tighter in his hand, breathed out emotionally, and said:

“Alright,” he carefully held the tip of the feather over the address, “let’s see how you work!”

The moment the magic feather touched the address, its hairs immediately bit into and later drew themselves into the feathermap, after which William felt the familiar sensation of peregrining. In a moment, he was already standing in the middle of some street, with the open feathermap in one hand and his feather in the other. First, he looked around and saw that on the outside the street didn’t look like modern London at all. All the buildings around here seemed to have been designed two hundred years ago. Some buildings even seemed medieval. William was alert and focused. There were almost no people in sight, which made the street look abandoned. He even thought that the feathermap could have peregrined him to the wrong place. But when he looked around hoping to replace the house he needed, he saw a wooden sign saying ‘Dwarf and Centaur’. After this, William understood that this was the right place. He folded up his feathermap and stuffed it into his pocket, then confidently headed towards some houses nearby. Soon William saw a sign with the name of the street - ‘Norfolk Street’ - and calmed down completely, now that he was sure that he was in the intended place.

“Right! Now I need to replace the right house!” he whispered to himself and started walking along the street, staring at the signs with house numbers.

“Why couldn’t it have peregrined me to the house itself?!” he was saying in indignation, realizing that with each moment he was even more late.

After reaching almost the end of the street, he found the house number 9. Featherologist’s house was much larger than the rest and its architecture and gloomy appearance reminded him of a miniature fortress. He recalled Nymus’s words about the tradition of entering wizard houses through the back door, walked around the large stone house and found himself by the gate. He opened it and walked along a narrow path leading to the back yard of the house, trying to replace an explanation for his late arrival along the way. Because if he had confessed the real reason, he would have certainly been taken for an idiot who didn’t even know how magic feathers influenced electronic devices. As he continued walking, he heard a familiar voice. William brightened up. After yesterday, he had no hopes of hearing it so soon.

El was standing before the back wall of the teacher’s house.

“Are you going to let me in, you stupid creature, or do I have to stand here till the first snow?!” he was shouting at the wall and his upset tone indicated that he was in a really bad mood.

When William saw his friend, he understood that he wasn’t the only one who was late for the first Featherology class. El was standing with his feather in his hand and continued his angry threats without noticing William, who was approaching from behind.

“Do you know, you worthless scarecrow, that it’s a wizard standing before you, and that being a greenheaded servant, you must allow me to enter each time I wish so! If you don’t let me in right this moment, once again I will have to use…”

“…a horrible curse called ‘Right Kick’!” William finished for him with irony.

El immediately turned to the familiar voice.

“May I be trice enchanted! Look who’s here! This is the first good news of the morning!” he cried out, heartily greeting his friend. “So we’re in the same group after all… What an unexpected wave of a feather! Hi, buddy!”

“Hi, El! Yes, looks like we’re in the same group. But it’s not the first time we get out of sync with the movements of the rest of the enrolees, don’t you think?” William grinned.

“You’re telling me! I swear it’s the influence of Germany!” El’s clearly improved mood indicated that he was very glad to see his friend again. “I’d lost my feathermap and spent half an hour trying to replace it before I remembered that it was in the doublet pocket! And why are you late?”

“I’ve completely forgotten that digital alarm clocks forget to wake wizards up if they sleep with their feather under the pillow!” William confessed.

“I see,” El pursed his lips. “What are we going to do, Will? This toad thing doesn’t want to let us in because we’re late!”

William looked at the stone wall completely covered by ivy, which El was pointing at, and gave his friend a puzzled look.

“Which toad thing are you talking about, El?”

“This one!” El poked the plant this time. “It’s an ivy guard! Didn’t you know that they guard entrances to wizard houses?”

“Of course I did! I know about wizards so much I should really know about such a trivial thing,” William said sarcastically.

He looked at the ivy guard and couldn’t help wondering again about the difference between the world of wizards and the world of demits. Even the entrances to their houses were special. As for the ivy guard itself, it looked more like a giant green python than an ordinary plant.

“Wow!” he said in delight, giving its due to the unusual plant.

“While you’re being amazed with unimportant things, I’m getting mad at the fact that we’re missing one of the most interesting subjects in the Preparatory Course, Will!” El was really upset about being late.

“Have you tried knocking?” William asked.

“It’s no use! The door is enchanted in a special way, and the ivy guard, apart from its usual duties, doesn’t let in enrolees who are late.”

“And you wanted to lift the spells by talking to it and making the door open?” William inquired with irony.

“Very funny!” El wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

He kicked the door, hidden by the ivy guard, and stomped away. William, on the contrary, was examining the majestic plant with interest and stroked it in delight.

“What a beautiful creature!” he said and sensed some movement in his chest pocket.

He took his magic feather out of it and was surprised to see that it behaved in a really strange way near the ivy guard. The feather was straightening out in an unusual way, tucking its white hairs in and resembling a dagger blade.

“I’d be more than happy to tear that beautiful creature from the wall, then it will see how to keep me out!” El replied grumpily. He had already made a few steps away and was staring towards the road in indignation. “So, perhaps, we should go to the ‘Dwarf and Centaur’?”

But William didn’t hear him. Enchanted by the magnificence and the calmness of the ivy guard, he kept staring at its leaves, unable to look away. The feather, which he was still holding in his hand, was wrapping itself with its own hairs or, on the contrary, was spreading them out, from time to time stretching them towards the ivy guard. At the same time, William noticed suddenly that the plant had dark-orange eye-like slits, which opened up lazily and were now examining William. In his turn, he smiled back involuntarily, after which the ivy guard lowered its orange slits obediently and started moving back, revealing a massive oak door.

“Will! Can you hear what I’m saying to you?” El turned to him again. “I’ve suggested going to…” he trailed off, seeing the ivy guard slowly crawling away from the door like a python, and now the door was free.

He instantly ran over to William and stared, not quite believing his eyes, at the ivy guard, which was stretching out one of its tentacles, just as slowly, towards the door handle, wrapping itself around it and turning it. The door creaked slightly and opened unwillingly. The ivy guard opened its dark-orange slits on the longest tentacle, then slowly and snake-like moved right to William’s nose, staring into his eyes for a moment. It invited him in with a polite and graceful bow-like movement, then crawled back to the rest of the tentacles.

“May I be trice enchanted…” El said slowly, standing with his mouth open until then.

“What’s the matter with you, El?” William asked, seeing his overly surprised reaction.

“The door, Will! The ivy guard has opened it to us!” was all he could say.

“That’s because I’ve stroked it, not kicked it like some people do,” he remarked, then grinned and added: “Or you’ve frightened it with your threats, or, most likely, they’ve softened it.”

Seeing that El’s face was still looking too concerned, he said in a serious voice:

“I thought that wizards weren’t supposed to be surprised with such things. What’s the matter with you, El? After all, what’s so supernatural about it letting us in?”

“You don’t understand, Will,” El was still staring at the ivy guard, not believing his eyes. “Ivy guards don’t open doors just like that!” His tone was dead serious as he gave William an intent look. “Personally, I don’t know a single case when an ivy guard obeyed not the residents of the house, but an outside wizard.”

After hearing this, William started to understand why El looked so surprised.

“It’s very old magic,” he continued, “to protect against unwanted guests, and nobody has the power to control it. Besides, it’s the first time I see an ivy guard open its eyes! They are always asleep, it’s their normal state!”

“But if this is so,” William felt completely confused, “then how could it have let us in?”

“That’s what I’m talking about!” El gave the strange plant another look, then added quickly. “Alright, let’s go to class!”

“Alright!” William replied automatically, then gave his magic feather a puzzled look. The feather seemed very pleased with itself as it carelessly moved it hairs.

Featherologist’s house seemed much more pleasant on the inside that it could seem from the outside, even giving a homely feeling. William thought that this was rather unusual for a place of studies. He expected to see a miniature school in here, with employees and other paraphernalia of similar institutions. But currently their trip to the Featherology class reminded him more of a visit to grandma, where everything was simple, like in the old times. When they entered the house, they found themselves in a narrow corridor, dimly lit by a couple of candles. They went deeper into the house and up a spiral staircase. Finally, they stopped by another door, this time quite usual in appearance. They opened it quietly and found themselves by the entrance to a classroom full of enrolees, while the professor was telling them something with a solemn look. The enrolees were listening to him attentively, but they had been listening until the moment they saw William and El standing in the doorway. Now the attention of the classroom was all on the two of them, except for the professor, who still hadn’t noticed them.

“…thus, your magic feathers start acquiring uncharacteristic features that differ them from similar feathers received from the same bird…” the elderly bald wizard was saying. He had bushy grey sideburns, from his temples to the bottom of his cheeks, and glasses on his nose. Suddenly, he noticed that the attention of the enrolees was drawn to the door and stopped talking.

He turned around and saw William and El in the doorway, who were standing with guilty expressions and looking at the teacher in a pitiful way. His surprised expression suggested that he had never come across enrolees being late. Or, more exactly, enrolees after they had been late. Surprised, he took his round glasses off and was examining El and William for about a minute without hiding his curiosity.

But he wasn’t the only one to be surprised. William was also quite bewildered by the fact that instead of the usual robes, the wizard was wearing a chequered brown jacket, a pale yellow bowtie round his neck, with a fluffy feather of the same colour sticking out of his chest pocket. The tense silence lasted for a couple more minutes, when finally the professor tilted his head a bit and asked in bewilderment:

“Yes?”

“We apologize for being late, Professor…” El began and stumbled, not knowing his name.

“Pickwick!” he relied quickly. “Professor Pickwick! How did you get here?”

As it turned out, this question worried not only him, but also all the enrolees in here. After the professor had said it, there was a barely audible wave of curiosity, that turned into real noise in a moment.

“Silence!” Professor Pickwick cried out turning to the class, then addressed William and El again. “I’ve asked you a question, young wizards! How did you get in here?”

El nudged William, who felt himself in a rather stupid situation and tried to explain:

“We… we simply came to Featherology…” was the only thing he came up with.

“Ah, so SIMPLY? Really?” Pickwick repeated strictly, then said thoughtfully: “Those who are late for classes usually don’t replace it simple to get to them after all!” He looked from William to El and back, as if trying to decide whom to ask first. “Perhaps, you will explain to me how you’ve managed to do it?” It seemed quite incredible to him that two teenagers, who differed from the rest only by their more pitiful appearance and guilty expressions, had managed to enter the house after passing the ivy guard.

“Well…” William began.

“What’s your name, young man?” Pickwick interrupted him, turning to El who looked rather faint.

El, who had been studying the patterns on the carpet quite attentively before that, slowly raised his guilty eyes on Pickwick and said as slowly:

“Elian Gibbs…”

“So, Gibbs!” Pickwick repeated, then turned to William: “And yours?”

“Calhoun, sir, William Calhoun.”

As soon as William had said his name, Pickwick’s face, that was showing arrogant severity before, flinched involuntarily. And in a few moments, there was an expression of sincere and open curiosity. He eyed William from head to toe, as if Pickwick wanted to imprint William’s looks in his memory or, on the contrary, as if he was comparing it to the one he had known before. At the same time, the professor seemed to be completely oblivious to the fact that the awkward silence lasted for too long. William and El exchanged bewildered looks. This had finally made the professor start talking again.

“Well, Mister Calhoun…” he said awkwardly. “Would you be so kind and explain how you and Mister Gibbs managed to get inside the house past the ivy guard?”

“You see, Professor,” he started quickly, “we were really upset about our being later and the ivy guard probably decided to cooperate and make an exception…”

The class giggled at William’s words. And Pickwick reacted immediately to them.

“Ivy guards don’t cooperate, with no wizard whatsoever, Mister Calhoun!” he snapped, then he added in a much softer voice: “But if it had made an exception for you the first time, we can well consider it not a violation of THESE rules,” he paused and put his round glasses back on, “but a confirmation of the OTHER.”

His clear hint was pretty obvious to the two friends and they exchanged glances involuntarily.

“And if the ivy guard,” Pickwick continued, “thought that you should be present in class and forgave your late arrival, then I should do the same!” and right after that he added: “Take your seats, young mages, and no more being late!”

“Yes, Professor!” William and El said together, then moved further into the classroom and took empty armchairs by the wall.

The classroom looked like a comfortable spacious living room with at least twenty low comfortable armchairs and several sofas, just as comfortable, that could seat six enrolees. There were low round tables near each armchair and the sofas had oblong tables beside them, matching their length. Pickwick’s armchair stood near the entrance, not far from his table. There was only one small curtained window in the whole room and it was lit by several dozens of candles, which made William feel like he was at a spiritual session. It was quite warm in the classroom thanks to the fireplace, which was to the left from William’s armchair. Like the part of the house he and El had already seen on their way here, the classroom looked like a very cosy and homelike place for studies. William was convinced that it was much more pleasant to study in these conditions that at school, and that such atmosphere in the classroom made learning much easier. He took a thick textbook from the round table before him. The blue cover bore the following title: ‘Basic Principles of Featherology. Harold Pickwick’.

“Page six!” El whispered from the next armchair, having already taken his copy and now listening to Pickwick with a serious face.

William opened the first chapter at page six and read its title: ‘Bird Nature of Magic Feathers’. Meanwhile, professor Pickwick continued his lecture, which had been interrupted by their arrival.

“When a bird gives its feather to a wizard, it also shares its inherent instincts and gives the wizard a unique conductor, through which the powers hidden inside a wizard can replace their way out. Depending on the kind of the bird and which instincts it has, predatory or peaceful, our feathers give us relevant tendencies. For example, if the bird is a predator and it mostly hunts other birds, we can suppose with much confidence that the wizard wielding its feather will fall to predator instincts, which can eventually turn him into a dangerous criminal. If the bearer bird isn’t a predator and, on the contrary, is often a prey for other birds, its feather can weaken the stability of a wizard psyche from the first days of wielding it. This, in its turn, can lead to a constant sense of fear before everyone the wizard meets or…” he smiled, “directly to a mental asylum.”

He paused for a moment and looked around the classroom, searching for questions. Not replaceing any, he continued cheerfully.

“That is why it is so important for young wizards and witches to learn how to control their emotions and instincts that arise in them since the moment they get a magic feather. This requires parental care, like any hatchling, actually, as well as staying away from the influence of the outside world. The best example of a reverse effect are homeless wizard orphans, who grow up by themselves and often turn into unpredictable criminals, dangerous for the society, who follow only the bird instincts.”

William paled visibly to these words.

“Professor,” a lean boy with freckles addressed him, “why do we spend a whole seven years on becoming closer to our feathers, not one year or, say, two?”

“What’s your name?”

“Alfred Bary, sir!”

“Well, Mister Bary! Starting from the age of seven and up to the age of fourteen, our bodies undergo first significant changes, connected with the growth and formation of fully-fledged physiological functions. And if we consider the fact that during this difficult stage we also get a magic feather, it becomes even more difficult to undergo these changes. This, in its turn, influences our psyche and our attitude towards our own powers, which, no doubt, we get together with a magic feather. That is why it’s a good idea to teach wizard arts at this age, when wizards are no longer influenced by instincts of the bird that has granted them the feather, but on the contrary, fall in perfect harmony with them, combining their own instincts with that of the bird. This phase in wizard life is usually called the Fusion Period! Thus, the more wizards are synched to their magic feathers, the more powerful they become in time.”

“So, does it mean that we can’t do anything without our magic feathers, Professor?” Alfred Bery inquired.

“No, why! Even without their magic feathers, wizards are capable of some types of magic, but magic feathers are the main source of their magic. The use of magic feathers is the base of all magic activities of their owners, but not an absolute cause.”

William couldn’t help noticing Professor Pickwick glancing at him now and then during his lecture, with the same kind of curiosity as before. William was well aware of what had caused such a reaction from Pickwick. It reminded him of everything that had happened to him in Germany. Nevertheless, currently he tried not to get distracted and listened to his every word to know more about the possibilities magic feathers could reveal to their owners.

“The nature of magic feathers,” Pickwick was saying as he strolled around the classroom, “that is, the BIRD nature, predisposes us to waving them from time to time, creating different actions through spells and charms, which, in time, perfects the individual skills of the feather itself! In other words, magic feathers are living beings, like you and me and, just like us, they are able to grow and age.”

At this, William glanced at his feather. Like usual, it was lazily moving its hairs in his hand and indeed looked like a pet.

“One of the most incredible features of these beings,” Pickwick stopped behind William’s armchair, “is the fact that they grow and age together with us, acquiring experience with each spell we cast. When we grow old, it grows old together with us, ceasing its development. And when there’s no development, there comes decay and then the death of a feather And when wizards die of old age, magic feathers grow weak and die together with their owners…” He looked down at William’s feather and continued looking at it for a while.

William could sense professor’s look with the back of his head and it made him feel uneasy. Luckily, one of the girls distracted Pickwick by raising her hand at that time. He noticed her and said kindly:

“Yes, miss?”

“Ofella Adderly, sir! I’ve got a question!”

“Well,” Pickwick waved his hands, “don’t hold it all to yourself, Miss Adderly!” he said with a smile and started walking towards his armchair slowly.

William felt relieved that he wasn’t the object of Pickwick’s close attention anymore and he looked at the girl who had asked the question. But she was sitting by the opposite wall and he couldn’t make out her face.

“Do you mean that when a very powerful wizard grows old, his magical abilities start to fade with age because his magic feather grows old?”

“Not quite, Miss Adderly,” Pickwick sat into his large armchair. “Aging of a magic feather doesn’t mean its abilities, but its life force that executes these abilities. Wizards and magic feathers draw energy for spells from each other.”

“So if, for example, someone steals a magic feather from another wizard, the link between this wizard and their magic feather will be broken and they will be in danger of dying very soon?” Ofella Adderly said.

“That’s right!” Pickwick confirmed. “Their link is unbreakable, Miss Adderly! Thus, under usual circumstances the powers of a wizard will never die. Only when wizards die of old age or an illness or a mortal wound, they start to grow weak and their magic feathers lose their source of energy and become unable to provide their owners with magic powers. A vicious circle of sorts!” He connected the tips of his fingers. “Do you have any more questions, Miss Adderly?”

“No, Professor, thank you for your answer!” satisfied, she to her place again.

“Well, then, let’s continue!”

William kept glancing at his magic feather, and the idea that he and his feather were two halves of a one seemed wild to him. According to Pickwick, it followed that if one felt bad, so did the other. He immediately remembered the words of Mr. Wellington from the Feather Nest, when he had told him never to part with his magic feather and give it to nobody. Well, now he understood why he wasn’t supposed to do it under any circumstances.

Meanwhile, Professor Pickwick continued.

“First attempts to use a magic feather are always fraught with some inconvenience caused by the inability of a young wizard to control it properly. It’s not enough to learn the words of a spell. To create a really powerful effect from the spell you cast, you need to focus on it in an instant. An in case of some spells, you need to want their outcome with all your being. In any case, when you use spells in the future, you won’t be able to do without the highest inner concentration before saying a spell.” He stood up again and started pacing the classroom. “All of you most certainly have learned something over the time you’ve spent with your magic feathers.”

William felt really embarrassed at this, because, unlike other enrolees, all he knew was how to dry plates with the help of his magic feather.

“The goal of the Featherology classes,” Pickwick continued, “is to teach you how to use your magic feather and how to control it better by expanding your knowledge of basic spells. And thus preparing you for studying at a MUni. Let’s make our discussion more visual and turn to practical skills,” This caused noises of approval in the classroom. “I will call you out one by one and your magic feathers will tell me what the last spell was cast by its last owner, that is, by you! After we all see them in action, and I can assure you, they will prove to be quite clumsy, I will teach you to cast this spell correctly. If it turns out that you have cast it wonderfully yourselves, you will get the highest grade in today’s topic. Right, let’s begin!” He looked around the classroom and pointed at the inquisitive girl. “Please, Miss Adderly!”

Ofella Adderly got up from her armchair and walked to Pickwick. She came into the light and William could see her features now, replaceing her rather pretty. She was a fair-haired girl, not very tall, with wavy hair.

Meanwhile, her magic feather was already in Professor Pickwick’s hands, he turned it a few times and ordered:

“Revoka Finisis!” Sparks flew out of Ofella Adderly’s white and yellow feather, then it heated up, becoming completely red. Then Pickwick ordered: “Rigentibus!” And the feather became normal again. He looked at the girl and said: “Miss Adderly, please, show me your right palm.”

Ofella Adderly held out her palm and fresh burn scars on it became visible. Professor Pickwick took her hand, touched the palm with the tip of his magic feather and said calmly: “Totum Viventem!” The scars started to heal and in a few moments disappeared completely.

“Thank you, Professor!” she said, embarrassed.

“Ah, don’t mention it! So, what were you trying to set fire to, Miss Adderly?” Pickwick voice sounded father-like and lenient.

“Well,” she started slowly, “I wasn’t trying to set fire to anything, but…” she stumbled, then continued: “I was trying to straighten out my hair,” she admitted in the same embarrassed way and her eyes paused on William, who was watching the whole thing attentively, together with El.

Noticing William’s attention, she blushed even more and lowered her eyes.

“Well, here’s a nice example of inept use of a magic feather!” Pickwick addressed the class cheerfully, then turned to the girl again. “Miss Adderly, your hair doesn’t need straightening out. It looks wonderful as it is!”

“Thank you, Professor!” she smiled, still red with embarrassment.

“Please, take your seat!” He returned her feather to her.

“Right! Who’s next? Is anyone willing to share their mastery?” he said the last word with sarcasm. “Perhaps, you, Mister Gibbs?”

El froze at these words. Now the attention of everyone in the room was drawn to him. He looked at William, as if asking for support, and he winked at him, telling him to go to Pickwick with a nod. El stood up reluctantly and slowly walked to Pickwick with such a sorrowful expression on his face as if he was going to be executed.

“Don’t be shy, Mister Gibbs!” Pickwick cheered him up, gesturing at the place beside him.

When El had finally reached the teacher, Pickwick spoke again:

“What was your last spell, Mister Gibbs?” he asked El.

“I… er… don’t really remember…” El lied.

“Well, luckily, your magic feather has a better memory than you!” Professor Pickwick replied with a smile. “May I have it, please?”

El handed him his orange feather reluctantly, Professor Pickwick took it and ordered:

“Revoka Finisis!” Leaves started falling out of El’s feather, closely resembling ivy leaves. “My Wizards, Mister Gibbs! Are you really this stupid not to know that ivy guards don’t yield to curses even coming from the residents of the house, not mentioning underage unskilled and irresponsible evil-doers like you?”

El guiltily mumbled his apologies in response.

“Take your seat, Mister Gibbs. I feel really sorry for you,” Pickwick said coldly.

El trudged back to his seat, pretending that he didn’t notice giggles directed towards him.

“Well, so far I see no reason to teach you cast your last spells correctly!” Pickwick said cheerfully, rubbing his hands, then looked around the class and went visibly glum. “What about you, Mister Calhoun?” Pickwick stared at William in a curious way and stood expectantly.

William stood up, taking his magic feather from the table, and headed to the teacher’s table confidently.

“Tell me about your last spell, Master Calhoun,” Pickwick asked him, then added with a smile: “But I warn you, if your feather starts spitting the leaves of my ivy guard, too, then I’ll be endlessly disappointed with the growing generation.”

William pretended he didn’t hear Pickwick’s joke and said in a busy-like tone:

“Well, it was an Exicare spell, for drying dishes, sir!” he confessed. “I haven’t had a chance to use any other…”

“Your magic feather!” Pickwick interrupted him dryly, holding out his open palm.

William placed his feather onto it and the professor, after glancing at the feather, studied it for a while silently. He wasn’t the only one impressed by the size of the feather. The whole classroom, except for El, was nearly shocked by it beauty and fluffiness.

Finally, Pickwick ordered:

“Revoka Finisis!” He barely managed to say that, when a black cloud, like smoke from a fire pit, flew out of William’s magic feather like a flash, surrounding them, and in a moment forming a dark-grey shell around them, made of that gloomy cloud.

Everyone gasped and the classroom fell dead silent. William, shocked by this sight no less than the rest, was standing with his mouth open. Through the mist, he saw El with his jaw dropped. Pickwick himself was examining this dark-grey shell attentively for about a minute, then pulled his scarlet magic feather out of his sleeve, with a cat-like grace, and ordered imperiously:

“Ivapero!” he made a wide wave with his feather.

For a while, nothing was happening. Only after a few moments, the dark-grey cloud around them started evaporating slowly before the eyes of the shocked enrolees.

The silence lasted for about half a minute more. William was still taken aback by what Pickwick had just shown him. The professor, who was standing deep in his thoughts until then, addressed him, breaking the overall silence:

“Do you know how what we’ve just witnessed is called, Mister Calhoun?”

“I’ve no idea, Professor!” he blurted out sincerely.

Pickwick stared into his eyes, as if trying to determine whether he was telling the truth or not. After a while, he spoke again:

“That’s very serious magic, Mister Calhoun. So serious that not every skilled adult wizard can perform it. Nobody of your age is capable of it…” Then he added: “None of the living. Did you know about it, Mister Calhoun?”

William had just realized what a magic feather was. Before that, he treated it like a toy, or, more likely, like a kind and harmless symbol of his new and beautiful life. But now, after what he had just seen, he felt really uneasy at the thought that all this time he kept his feather under the pillow or on him all the time. He had felt a similar thing when the harmless-looking stairs in Alpurg had suddenly turned into a flock of dragons. He was so stunned right now he hadn’t even noticed that he’d dived deep into his memories as he stood near Pickwick. The man even had to address him again:

“Mister Calhoun? Are you alright?” he asked in alarm.

“What?” William came round. “No, sir! I mean, yes, sir, I’m alright! But no, I didn’t know about it,” he replied, still replaceing his bearings.

“It’s a protection spell, Mister Calhoun. To protect from much worse than mosquitoes.”

Now that he had recovered, he, finally, wanted to know more, and as soon as possible.

“From whom, sir?” he asked without even trying to hide his curiosity.

He awfully wanted to know what his feather was capable of. He expected Professor Pickwick to explain everything to him, but he was just staring at him. In a few moments, Professor turned to the class and said loudly:

“See you next time! The lesson is over!”

He returned William’s magic feather to him in one brisk movement, said dryly: “Goodbye, Mister Calhoun!” and quickly left the classroom, disappearing somewhere the house.

Speechless because of such an abrupt end of the lesson, William remained standing by Pickwick’s table. He didn’t notice El running up to him.

“Buddy! That was awesome! And you haven’t told me a thing!”

“Haven’t told you WHAT, El?” he asked automatically.

“That you practice magic at home!”

“I don’t practice magic, don’t be silly,” he waved him off.

“Fine, let’s talk about it at the tavern! Come now!”

“What tavern?”

“Dwarf and Centaur! I’ve been there once with my cousin and let me tell you, they serve excellent food! Are you coming?” He glanced at William, who was still deep in his thoughts.

“Yes, alright!” William agreed absent-mindedly. “Let’s go!”