I lay in my bed, watching my face in a small mirror my mother had gifted me. Red eyes stared back at me through white hair that covered my face. After five minutes, I attempted to sleep. I closed my eyes, plunging into the darkness. I waited, but nothing changed—the same silent, eternal darkness. I tried to concentrate, to imagine the realm of unlimited possibilities, to enter a dream, but nothing came to me. Had mother lied to me? Were her stories about dreams pure fiction, a wicked prank? Or was it simply because it was impossible for me to sleep?

Knock Knock.

"Charlotte, can I come in?” asked my mother.

“Yes, mother,” I answered, giving up hope that I could ever dream.

The door opened, and she came in.

“Make yourself some light, what are you doing here in the darkness?” said my mother and with a wave of her hand the candles in my room became lit.

She was wearing the usual brown and black dress that matched her brown hair and caramel-colored eyes. I loved those eyes. They gave me a warmth that even the hottest fireplace could not give me.

She looked at me with a smile that was emphasized by the little wrinkles that had formed around her mouth these past two years. She had grown older, while I had barely changed since I had turned sixteen years old, which had been two years ago.

“Nothing. Just some small experiments.” She raised an eyebrow at that but didn’t continue to question me.

“Percival wanted to see you. He is quite nervous because he will officially become a student tomorrow, and he is too embarrassed to speak to me. Can you talk with him?” asked my mother, not demanding but asking friendly. Something she only did when she wanted something personal that had nothing to do with her job. In this case, it was personal and had something to do with her job, because my mother was Helga Humblehill. She and her three friends founded the school we lived in  14 years ago, and tomorrow was the 15th acceptance day.

Percival, on the other hand, was my little brother. Barely eleven years old, and more mischief in his head than any of the school's teachers would normally be willing to tolerate. The problem is that mother has been far too soft with him. At least when we were in private. I don’t know how often a student complained to mother about him, and even my aunt and uncle weren’t saved. He put tree resin into Uncle Severin's beard wax, just last week. He also sometimes stole his father's sword, but Uncle Gregor was as undisciplined with him as mother was. The only time both showed their consequent side was when it came to studying.

They both had great expectations for him, so he was forced to study ahead before even officially attending the school with the other students. So even if I, as the older sister, who had taken on the duty of giving him some boundaries when it came to his mischief, could understand that he didn’t want to talk with mother or uncle about his nervousness.

“Yes, mother. I will go immediately to see him. Where is he?” I asked, as one never knew where the little rascal was running around.

“He is in his room.”

“Is it so bad?” Percival was never someone who would spend a lot of time in his room. On the contrary, he loved playing outside. Especially with the few animals that lived on the castle grounds.

So I went from my quarter, which was near the kitchen behind a portrait of an ancient Greek alchemist, through the dungeons towards the first floor.

When I was old enough to get my own room, I chose the basement because it was less crowded. Even the classrooms in the basements were far away from where my room was.

I was glad it was still early, as only a few students were awake and saw me. I didn’t like the attention too much, but my pale skin and white hair were far too obvious, even if I tried to conceal them a little by wearing a sky-blue dress, which made me look like one of Aunt Seraphina’s students who tried to mimic her looks. But even the dress couldn’t conceal the white hair, and the moment I stopped and someone saw my red eyes for the first time, they would run away in panic. The end of a school year was always a little more relaxed in that regard, as most people had at least seen me once at that time.

I arrived at the corridor where my brother’s room was. The warm light flooded through the many colored windows that told stories about long-dead people. On the side stood various statues of said people who were chatting with each other. No matter if it were statues or pictures, everything in the castle seemed to have a mind of its own, while being strangely aware that they were just statues or pictures.

My aunt had tried to explain it to me one time, but the process was far beyond what I would ever manage to do, so I didn’t pay too much attention. But what I remembered was that if the artist created an image of a real person and the person participated in the creation process, it would have the character and some of the memories of said person.

I walked past the statues, who ignored me as much as I ignored them, till I reached one that looked like a small, short-haired teenager in rags with a cunning face. It was the hero of one of the stories our mother told us when we were little, and the boy was publicly known for defeating a giant in a duel.

I stared at the statue which looked at me with arrogance.

“You?”

“Yes me. Open the door.”

“Can’t d…”

“Against all odds.” It was the password to open my brother’s door.

The teenage boy grinned as if he had fun annoying me.

The stonewall behind him slowly transformed into an archway with a door made of stone that quickly swung open. The whole process barely took five seconds, before I was able to enter. The whole castle was plastered with so many “secret passages” like this that it was honestly a little bothersome, but the founders thought it would make the school more mysterious and would help the students develop something they called an adventurous spirit.

Percival’s room looked sparsely decorated, and in the center of the room stood two big moving boxes. Even the wall that was enchanted to look like a lively savannah looked unusually desolate, even though the fake sun was still lightening and warming the whole room as usual. My brother had decided to give up his private quarters to live with the regular students in the castle, and from the looks of it, he had already packed.

My brother lied on his bed, playing with a wooden sword made for really small children in his hand. Even in his small hands, the sword looked more like a dagger than anything else.

"Hey, sis, why are you here? I thought you were busy.” asked my cute little brother, who stopped playing with his toy and looked at me. I felt a little bad because I had sent him away the last time he wanted to talk with me. For the last four weeks, he talked about nothing else than becoming a mighty wizard, and it got on my nerves.

“Mother told me you needed someone to talk to,” I answered unsure of how to approach the topic. It wasn’t the first time I talked with him about his insecurities, but that didn’t mean that I was a master at starting a conversation.

“She told you? I didn’t ask her too!” he protested, but I could see in his face that he was glad I was here and ready to talk. He always pretended to be “cool” and “unaffected” by things until the last moment, when he would start to panic and overthink everything.

"Well, now I’m already here, so do you want to go for a walk? Getting some fresh air will be good for you.”

He nodded and slowly crawled out of his bed. I decided to ignore the fact that he hadn’t showered yet, as I was sure it would only make him feel worse if I pointed it out.

As we left the room, and Percival started to guide me outside towards the garden. I know he felt more comfortable outside, so I didn’t say anything.

The flowers looked beautiful in the sun, and the scent of a dozen different flowers and grasses permeated the air. I hated it. Not because I actually hated it, but because the sun was quite uncomfortable on my skin, and I knew we needed to find a shadowy location fast.

“Sis, let's go to the big cherry tree. The sun won’t hit you there.” Said Percival knowing about my "condition,” and pointed at the large tree.

“So, what is worrying you? Is it because you don’t know if you should go to mother's or Uncle Gregor’s house?” I tried to go to the core of the topic. It might have been a bit rushed, but that was the discomfort speaking out of me. I really disliked the sun. The real one, not the artificial one illuminating Percival’s room.

“It’s not that. I mean, it’s not only that. Sis, what should I do if I’m not good enough? Mom and Dad always tell me how great of a wizard I will become, and I know that other people are expecting it too, but besides the one time I sent Aunt Seraphina's wine flying into her face when she asked mom if I was a Nowitz, I haven’t used any magic. What if the other students are much better than me? Mom and Dad will hate me.” bubbled it out of Percival. If I didn’t know any better, I would even say my little brother was cute and innocent. But I could understand his situation. And I knew that he wasn’t the only one who had these problems. Especially with my own experience with it.

“Come here, Pev,” I said and hugged him. “You know that I had the same, or at least similar, worries a few years ago? I mean, I only worried about mom; I don’t care about what Uncle thinks of me, but that didn’t mean I was any less nervous. And do you know what happened?”

“No, you never told me, and mom forbade me from asking.” Answered Percival quite curious but also worried. While I talked with my brother a lot, I refrained from talking about less pleasant topics with him. At least when they concerned me. I didn’t want to earn his pity.

“Well, where should I begin? I guess it’s easiest when we start on the day that is similar to this one. One day before the entrance ceremony. I was the first of the founders' children to attend the ceremony, so many eyes were pointed at me. Because of my connection to mom, no one doubted that I would be sorted into her house. I swear, I don’t know why the others agreed to Uncle Gregor's proposal to let those strange spirit things do the sorting.”

“But isn’t that the best way to do it? Aren’t the spirits able to sense who would be the best fit for which house?” My brother was a little naive there. Unless the spirits were far better seers than any human could dream to be, that was nonsense. My guess was that they somehow read the minds of the students, but I wasn’t sure about that.

“Best? Maybe. Anyway, I was there, a quivering mess, and the only thing mother told me was not to worry and that everything would be fine. This was the greatest lie she ever told me. Believe me. So the next day, I was still nervous, but not so much because I believed in mother's lie, the entrance ceremony happened. As it was such a big event in my life, mother had invited a few of her friends, the parents of a few students were also present, and my sorting was the main attraction for everyone, so I had to go last.”

“Will I also need to go last? Will Mom also invite other people over?”

“I guess so. I mean, Hellena, as Aunt Seraphina’s daughter, also needed to go last, and everything went well with her, so I wouldn’t worry about it too much. The time doesn’t really matter.” I lied a little there, because it just increased the time one needed to wait. Time one had to panic.

“So, when it was finally my time and everyone stared at me while the founders' spirits began to sort me, the whole hall fell silent. To my great relief, I was sorted to mother. So far, so good, but as you know, each student receives his wand after the sorting. Mr. Birchcroft had prepared hundreds of different wands, four large tables full, so that everyone could get one that fit him.”

“Why only four? Doesn’t he bring like twice that amount by now?”

Yes, he does, just listen, and you will be able to guess the reason. I went towards Birchcroft, who was already waiting for me. He looks a bit creepy with his eyepatch, but he is a friendly old geezer. So, when I arrived there, he took a few measurements, gave me a wand, and asked me to flick it. Can you guess what happened?” I asked him, but just because I needed to pause myself to suppress my own bitterness a little.

“No? Did you send him flying? Did you set something on fire? I heard that could happen.” Answered Percival trying to guess, but the answer was much simpler.

“No. Nothing happened. I waved the wand around a few times, but nothing happened. I thought I would break down at that moment, but Mr. Birchcroft took the wand, asked me not to worry, and gave me another wand to try. And another wand. And another wand. And another wand. In front of hundreds of people, I had to go through all six hundred seventy-three wands, and every wand showed not the tiniest bit of magic. Do you know what was the worst in that moment?”

Percival gulped down a bit in worry and looked at me with pity. That was the reason I didn’t tell him about it beforehand. “That you thought you couldn’t cast magic?”

“No. It’s the look of pity in the eyes of everyone present. Including mom. Including Uncle Severin and Gregor, including Aunt Seraphina. Everyone present felt pity for me, and I... I felt betrayed. I couldn’t remember myself using any accidental magic, but mother said it happened when I was really little. I ran out of the castle. Luckily, it was already night because I had tested every wand. I ran into the forest and wanted to have nothing to do with anyone anymore. One day later, mother found me. I lay in the nest of a few moonhoppers when she found me. It was the first time mother had punched me. Not because I had failed to get a wand. Not because I had probably ruined her reputation among her friends. No, she had punched me because I ran into the forest, and she thought I had died. After she hit me, she gave me the longest hug ever, and she cried.” I felt a lump form in my throat as I remembered the event like it was yesterday.

“Mom cried?” I could understand his disbelief because mother was known in school for her iron-hard discipline. At least in her classroom, but even in private, where she was super caring, she never really cried.

“Yes. She cried. Helga Humblehill, the greatest seer of the century and one of the most powerful witches alive, cried because I had run into the forest, and she thought I had died. She cried because she loved me, Pev. And she loves you too. Probably even more than me. So no matter what happens tomorrow, no matter what goes wrong, mom will love you, and I will love you too.” I pulled him a little closer into something that resembled a hug.

“And don’t worry too much. My case was the only one where something like that ever happened, so the chances of it happening to you are almost zero.” I explained, seeing on his face that my little anecdote had archived the desired effect.

“I love you too, sis,” he said, giving me another real hug. “What about dad?” asked Percival, and ruined the moment.

“Ask him yourself.” I answered more harshly than I intended. Normally, I refrain from showing off my opinion about Uncle Gregor to Percival. He should form his own opinion about the man without my influence.

Percival seemed to get the hint, and didn’t question me further, and changed the topic.

“But Sis, when you didn’t get a wand there, where did you get yours?” I flinched. I didn’t want to relive another traumatic experience today.

“That’s a story for another time.” I was glad Percival didn’t press the matter and instead made himself ready to go back into the castle. Sometimes he surprises me with his ability to read the mood. He was far better at it than I was.

We went back to the castle to mother’s quarters. My brother immediately ran into mother's arms. She patted his head while giving me a satisfied nod.

“You need a haircut. We wouldn’t want you to look unkempt tomorrow.” Said mother to my brother and pulled one of his long brown strands of hair up.