Chapter 6: November

On the weekends, David would usually take one night and patrol alone. Since he needed so little sleep, it gave him the time to put in the extra effort. He didn't bother with the night patrols during the week because, gang members or not, students at Woodward needed their sleep in order to make it to class. Not going to class would get someone kicked out of Woodward pretty fast, so even the gang members had to obey that rule.

As he walked, David considered what the motivation for the gang was. He didn't figure they were getting any significant money from their activities... hell, most of their activities didn't seem to pay them anything at all. They had to know that taking over the school in a real sense was an impossibility. Even if the Rimohrs didn't do anything, the Ministry of Education sure as hell would. They could turn Woodward Academy into the equivalent of a military school in a matter of days, and that would destroy whatever control the gang had.

So, with money and power ruled out, what did that leave? Chaos? Could it be as simple as wanting to disrupt the system? That was a harder possibility to rule out, but it was unsatisfying. After all, disrupting the system implied you wanted a better system in its place. So... what did they want to replace the system with?

He came back to the notion of recruitment. The gang wanted just enough visibility at the school to encourage new members to join, so they could cause trouble elsewhere. David had asked Joe to look into The Clan, to see what they were doing elsewhere, but he hadn't heard back yet.

As David pondered these things, he walked. He was currently on the terrace, approaching Hughes Hall. As he walked, he saw three students manipulating some of the rocks that were lying around the grounds. They were levitating them in front of the doors to Hughes Hall, to block the front entrance.

David shook his head at the stupidity of it. He approached quietly, as he didn't want them running away. Once he was close enough, he said, "Practicing our levitation, gentlemen?"

One of the boys whirled around. The other two were busy positioning rocks, and so were slower to react. The one who had turned pulled out his wand and shouted a spell.

"Terballik!" David intoned, holding up his hand. The guy's spell rebounded off David's shield, and the student was suddenly transformed into a rat.

"Paralio!" David said, waving his wand at the rat. Suddenly, it froze in its tracks. Now David was faced with the other two guys, who had finished what they were doing.

The two looked at their friend, and then glared at David.

"What the fuck did you do that for?" the bigger one snarled.

"I tend to get annoyed when people try to morph me. Now, care to tell me what you think you're doing?"

"We don't have to tell you shit," the smaller one replied snidely.

"I am a member of the Discipline Response Team," David reminded them calmly.

"The Ghost Squad's a joke. You can't touch us. Two of us, one of you. Simple math," the bigger one said.

"Uh-huh. And you're, what, a second-year?" David guessed. He certainly hadn't seen him in his own classes.

"So what?" the boy confirmed.

"So... over four years of training, versus just two years of training, between the two of you. The math works a little differently that way." David was hoping to get them to surrender. In order to take on both of them, he'd probably have to hurt one or both of them, and he didn't want to do that unless he had no choice. "Now drop your wands."

"Fuck that shit," the smaller one said. He raised his wand at David.

Before the guy could say anything at all, David muttered, "Pichac!" The guy was thrown back into the pile of rocks. His head struck one and he slumped to the ground, unconscious.

"How's the math shaping up for you now?" David asked the remaining guy, who was looking at his unconscious friend. "Drop your wand. Now."

The guy looked back at his other friend, and then at David. "The Clan is going to tear you apart."

"They are welcome to try. But you are going to detention for the night, and before the dean in the morning." David applied the handcuff hex to the one still standing. He leaned down to pick up the rat, and then he levitated the unconscious boy.

"Walk," David told the one left standing. After they'd gone twenty feet, David said, "Oh, yeah, wait a second. Let me show you why you were being a twit to begin with." Without setting down the floating gang member, David stretched out his hand and concentrated. The rock pile that had been sitting in front of the door suddenly collapsed, the rocks rolling off to one side of the walkway to the door.

David looked back at the guy and said, "I love the irony of you carefully piling up a bunch of rocks in front of the elemandy department's building." He motioned, and the guy started walking again.

David considered their actions as he walked. The Clan, as they called themselves, seemed to have entirely undeserved arrogance. They acted like no one could touch them, yet when it came down to it, they seemed to be made up of a bunch of first- and second-year students, who really didn't have the skills to back up their bravado. They were taking on other first- and second-year students, for the most part, and that was why they looked scary. To any upperclassman, they were mostly a joke. It would take three or four of them to be any kind of a threat to anyone beyond a Mage.

And yet they acted as though they were invincible, as if they had already achieved their goal. It was a strange contradiction, and David didn't know what to make of it.

Well, it can wait for now. I have paperwork to do.

David stood calmly, waiting in line at the Motor Vehicles department. He was there to obtain a driver's license. He wanted to eliminate the difficulties he'd had getting from place to place. Plus, with the effort he was putting in for Zyla, the cab rides were annoying.

It took a half hour before David even made it to the counter. At that point, he handed over his license application and his state ID.

"You'll need your birth certificate, and you haven't had your sponsor sign this," the woman pointed out, a clear tone of disinterest in her voice.

David had researched the requirements for a license. He knew that he could not fulfill Massachusetts' requirements. Luckily, some further research had shown him something else.

Reaching into his coat pocket, David pulled out his wallet. Holding it down near the counter so that the other customers would not get suspicious, David flipped it open, so that the woman could see his wizarding license. The woman looked at him curiously, almost as if she was affronted by his bizarre behavior.

"What is this supposed to be?" she asked.

"I think this will explain my lack of paperwork, if you'll take another look," David encouraged her quietly, calmly, and politely. The woman looked down at the license, and the color drained from her face.

"I've never actually seen one before," she admitted. "You'll have to see Benny. He handles... things like this."

David nodded as the woman waved for her manager to come over. Once Benny arrived, the woman said, "This man... requires a class W license."

Benny blinked twice. "Can I see your ID, please?" the man asked. David held it open again, and the man looked at it closely. The man nodded, so David put his wallet away. "Please come over here," he said, motioning to a side table in the room.

David sat, as directed, and was immediately given his written test. Being only twenty-five questions long, David was finished with it in under ten minutes.

"Now what?" he asked the man. The man quickly graded the test, which David had gotten a perfect score on.

"Okay... now we'll have to do a road test. Please come with me."

The man led David out behind the building. Sitting there was a vehicle with government plates on it.

"I thought you didn't provide cars for road tests," David said. He'd been told they would when he'd found out about the "class W license" process, but he hadn't believed it until now.

"We don't, normally. But in the case of wizards, we make an exception." It was the first time one of them had spoken the word 'wizard', and David smiled that the man hadn't giggled after saying it. "Where are you actually from? Or do you even live in the US at all?"

"I was born and raised in Illinois. My only Earth home is in Florida now."

"So... why not get a Florida license?"

"I spend most of my time in this area."

"Ah. Okay, well, get in, and we'll get the test underway."

David got into the car, thankful it was an automatic. He could drive a manual, but he didn't like to. He buckled up, and then followed the examiner's directions. Twenty minutes later, he pulled back into the parking lot, slid neatly into the parking space - which required parallel parking - and turned off the engine.

"So, how'd I do?" David asked.

"You passed the exam easily. You need to be more careful about looking before you overtake other vehicles, though."

David nodded. The man led him back into the building, where they took David's picture and, in ten minutes, gave him his license. David thanked the man and left the building.

During his driving test, David had seen a car dealership. He decided to go there, to see if he could find a suitable vehicle.

An hour and a half later, David drove off the lot in a dark green Ford Expedition. He'd chosen an SUV because he knew that his primary use of this vehicle would be traveling from place to place, and the storage capacity would be useful for that. He'd enjoyed watching the salesman's eyes nearly pop out of their sockets as David had pulled out the necessary funds, in cash, to pay for the truck. As he drove back toward school - after another visit to the DMV to register the vehicle - he knew he'd have to find someplace quiet to park his truck long-term. He would enact a protection enchantment on it, and he didn't really want to be seen doing that.

David pulled into the parking lot of the courthouse and shut off the engine. He looked over at Zyla, who was extremely nervous. Joe was at work, of course, and was not able to come to this hearing. His presence wasn't needed, in any case.

"Come on," David said encouragingly. "We're early, so no need to hurry, but if we get in there now, you can get more comfortable with the room."

Zyla nodded. They entered the courthouse, went through security, which was a novel experience for Zyla, and were directed to the courtroom where their case would be held.

"How does this work?" she asked.

"Okay, well, we'll sit here, and Lynn and her lawyer will sit there. The judge sits up there behind the bench, and if anyone's watching, they'll sit back here. Normally, your lawyer would do most of the talking, but because of the... weirdness... of this case, I think I'm going to end up speaking a lot."

"How come?"

"Because your former stepmother is very, very dumb."

Zyla snorted at that, and then sat down at the table. Soon, David saw their lawyer appear at the back of the courtroom. He walked up to them and shook their hands.

"You have the paperwork?" Mr. Becker asked David.

"Some of it. I have been assured that the rest of it will be here on time," David said. "I'm not allowed to possess that paperwork."

"Ah. Okay. Well, let's hope it arrives, then."

"What are you two talking about?" Zyla asked.

"You'll see," David promised her. She frowned at him, but kept her peace.

Lynn and her lawyer showed up a few minutes later. They did not speak to, or even acknowledge, Zyla or the others. David looked toward the back of the room, and he saw a man in a black suit, wearing dark sunglasses. The man nodded at David, who returned the gesture and then turned back around to face forward.

"Paperwork's here," David said to the lawyer.

Becker turned around, saw the man in the suit, and then resumed his position. "Well, good. This should be an easy go, then."

"Let's hope."

A few minutes later, the bailiff entered the courtroom. He intoned, "All rise. Family Court is now in session. Your Honorable Bowen Darville, presiding."

"Good morning, everyone. Please be seated," the judge said. He was a middle-aged man, his black hair tinged with gray and reading glasses in his hand. He sat as the others in the room sat, and then nodded to the bailiff, who nodded in return. It struck David as very friendly and routine, at least among the staff.

Judge Darville looked down at the paperwork before him, and then looked up. "Okay, everybody ready?"

"Yes, Your Honor," the lawyers replied in turn.

"So... let's boil this down. Ms. Hopkins is claiming that her late husband was not of sound mind when he wrote his will giving ownership of Trebschau Manufacturing, a local machine parts supplier, to his daughter, Zyla Garibaldi. In support of her assertion of instability is her statement that Glen Trebschau claimed to be a wizard. Is that about it, Ms. Hopkins?"

"Yes, Your Honor," her lawyer said on her behalf.

"Can you substantiate your assertion that he made such statements?"

"The man owned a 'magic wand', for crying out loud!" Lynn said in outburst, even pulling it out of her purse and tossing it on the table. Her lawyer put his hand on her arm, to calm her down.

"Outbursts will not be tolerated in my court," Judge Darville said, not the least bit moved by her exclamation.

Becker rose. "Your Honor, if it will speed things along, we will accept their assertion that Glen Trebschau stated that he was a wizard. It is our assertion that this does not make him unstable. To support that statement, however... will require some leeway on the part of the court."

"Go ahead," Judge Darville said.

Becker turned and motioned to David. David rose, first looking back over his shoulder, to see the man in the suit rising, as well. David turned back to face the judge.

"Your Honor, my name is David Stroud. I am Mrs. Garibaldi's business partner, and a family friend. We can prove to the court's satisfaction that Mr. Trebschau's claim in no way bears on his sanity, but... we cannot do so in open court. We would ask that we be allowed to meet in your chambers to continue this."

"This is nothing more than a stunt, Your Honor," Lynn's lawyer said immediately. "They want to make a mockery of these proceedings!"

"Are you done?" David asked the lawyer, who looked at him as if he was spewing snakes out his mouth, for violating the decorum of the courtroom protocol.

"Mr. Stroud, can I at least ask why you feel this matter needs to be dealt with in closed session?"

"May we approach the bench, Your Honor?" Becker asked.

The judge motioned them forward, and both lawyers, as well as David and the man in the suit approached the bench.

"Who the hell are you?" Lynn's attorney asked.

"Are you capable of keeping your mouth closed?" David asked, feigning sincerity, "or are you afraid someone might get the truth past you if you shut up?"

As Lynn's attorney was trying to think up a snappy rejoinder, the judge said, "Okay, let's keep it civil. Mr. Stroud, please don't bait the other attorney."

"Yes, Your Honor. I apologize. The matter before the court needs to be handled in chambers because information will be revealed that cannot be placed in the public record."

"Such as?" the judge asked.

David looked to the man behind him. The man stepped forward. "Your Honor, I am Special Agent Dan Mulder, from the FBI." Agent Mulder produced his credentials. "I am carrying documents from both Homeland Security and the State Department. They are relevant to this case, but their contents cannot become part of any publicly accessible file. As such, they cannot be revealed in an open courtroom."

Judge Darville sighed. "And it was looking like such an easy day," he said. He motioned the others back, and then spoke to the court. "Rather than adjourn... everyone in the room... to my chambers, I am simply going to ask the bailiff and the court reporter to step out of the room at this point. Charlie, make sure nobody comes in until I tell you."

"Yes, sir," the bailiff said. The two court officers left the room, leaving only those who needed to be there.

"Okay, this had better be good," Judge Darville said. "Go ahead."

Becker motioned to David. David said, "Thank you, Your Honor. Ms. Hopkins' case hinges on a simple assertion: that anyone claiming to be a wizard is obviously insane. Therefore, there are two very straightforward yes/no questions we have to ask.

"The first question is this: Is there any such thing as a real wizard?" David paused for a moment, took a breath, and continued.

"The answer to that question is yes."

"Hogwash!" Lynn's lawyer exclaimed. He wanted to say something stronger, but courtroom protocol prevented it.

"I'm inclined to agree with the counselor here," Judge Darville admitted to David.

"Yes, sir, I know you are. But, you see, I am also a wizard, and so I stand ready to prove, by whatever means you consider acceptable, that magic and wizards do, in fact, exist. I would even allow Ms. Hopkin's representative to choose a test."

"Anyone can do parlor tricks," the attorney scoffed.

"So pick something that could not be done as a parlor trick," David said reasonably.

The lawyer considered for a long moment, then picked up his briefcase. "Change this, somehow."

"In what way? I want you to be specific. If you leave it that open, you can argue that's the only thing I could have done."

"Turn it into something else. Right here in front of us."

David nodded. "Fair enough." David concentrated as he pulled out his wand. He was a little worried; he'd not performed any Metamorphosis in a while, and he was certainly rusty.

"What are you waiting for?" the lawyer derided.

David looked at him. "Can you do it? It's not exactly easy. Metamorphosis was never my best subject." David returned to focusing on the briefcase. After a moment, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then said the spell quietly while moving his wand over the case. Slowly, the briefcase morphed from its normal shape into a stringed instrument.

"You turned it into a harp?" the attorney asked.

"No, that's not a harp. It's a lyre, much like your client," David said. Even the judge chuckled at that one.

Turning to the judge, David asked, "Do you wish to propose another test, Your Honor?"

"I don't think anything could top watching a briefcase change shape right in front of me. I would have to concede that there is such a thing as magic, and that you are capable of performing it.

"That does not, however, mean that Glen Trebschau was."

"Right, Your Honor. That leads us to the second question, also very straightforward, that we have to ask. With proof that wizards are real, was Glen Trebschau one of them? The answer, of course, is yes, he was. Proving that will require a bit of a roundabout explanation, however, so I'd ask that you indulge us as we proceed, Your Honor." The judge nodded, and David then said, "Agent Mulder?"

Agent Mulder pulled some documents out of his own briefcase. He handed them to the judge.

"This top document is a State Department certification of the legitimacy of a nation called Callamandia. If you look closely, you will see that the document gives a geographic location for Callamandia that would be nonsensical, as it overlaps the current United States."

The judge quickly looked down the document, then handed it over to Lynn's attorney, who looked it over before handing it back to Agent Mulder.

"The second document is from the Department of Homeland Security. It details the location of several 'travel gates' between the United States and Callamandia. Included is a Department of Defense certification that these travel gates lead to a place that does not exist physically on the planet Earth."

"This third document is another DHS paper which explains the existence of a place called Dugerra, which is a world, separate from Earth. Callamandia is one of the countries within Dugerra. Dugerra is a sister-world to the Earth, with very similar geography, but little else in common."

"This is all very fascinating," the judge said, his head starting to hurt from absorbing the oddity of this hearing, "But what has it got to do with Glen Trebschau?"

"We're coming to that, Your Honor," David said. "You see, according to the laws governing wizards, all wizards must be trained and licensed. All wizard training is done in Dugerra, at schools of magic. One of those schools is called the Woodward Academy of Magical Arts. Here is a copy of the school's charter, sealed by the King of Callamandia.

"Glen Trebschau attended the Woodward Academy a century ago. Here is his registration record from the school.

"And here is Mr. Trebschau's wizarding license form. One of these is kept in the records for every wizard who passes his licensure test."

David let the judge and Lynn's lawyer look over the documents.

Finally, Lynn's lawyer said, "Fabrications. All of them."

Agent Mulder took David's documents and looked over them carefully. He handed them back to David before speaking.

"While I cannot directly vouch for the documents provided by Mr. Stroud, they appear genuine. I have examined Dugerran documents in the past, and these bear all the necessary features of such documents. The documents I brought with me are, of course, official United States Government documents. They are certainly not fabricated."

"In any case, Your Honor, I think we've provided ample proof that the mere assertion of being a wizard would in no way indicate Glen Trebschau's instability. As this is the only point on which the plaintiff is basing her contestation of the will, I would have to respectfully ask you to dismiss her claim as baseless."

"Rebuttal?" Judge Darville asked her attorney.

Lynn's attorney stammered, unable to come up with any legitimate response.

"Further, Your Honor," David said, just to salt the wound, "I can prove that Lynn Hopkins knew that Glen Trebschau was an actual, legitimate wizard, and so her request for this proceeding borders on fraudulence."

"You can prove no such thing, you snot-nosed punk!" Lynn screamed.

"Remember what I said about outbursts," the judge warned her. "Mr. Stroud, that's a rather strong claim. How do you plan to back it up?"

David withdrew another document from his pocket. Before displaying it, he said, "Glen Trebschau was reasonably well-off. He owned a business, three cars, and two houses. One of those houses is near Boston. The other was in a place named Charvansontine. It's a small village on the southeast coast of Callamandia. It's a vacation spot. Here is the deed to that home."

"This doesn't list Glen Trebschau as the owner," the judge objected.

"No, Your Honor, it doesn't. The person listed there bought the house six months ago. Here is a copy of the sales agreement."

Lynn's lawyer piped up, finally. "I object! That's a private document!"

"No, actually, it's not. This was obtained from the Office of Property Registration, a primary office of the Callamandian government. I'd like to point out the signature on the agreement, Your Honor."

Judge Darville looked up at Lynn. "This is your signature."

"So?" Lynn retorted. "I had no idea where that house was. That's why I sold it!"

David produced some more documents. "Here, Your Honor, is the certification of ownership. It was necessary for Ms. Hopkins to file this in order to take ownership of the property, because she is not a Dugerran citizen. This document, Your Honor, can only be filed in person.

"Further, here is a record from the Visitation Bureau, which authorized Lynn Trebschau's escorted visit into Dugerra. You see, Your Honor, you cannot go into Dugerra unless you either are a wizard, or are accompanied by one. If a normal person must enter Dugerra without a personal wizard companion, they must apply for a governmental escort. Again, there is Lynn Trebschau's signature.

"Finally, Your Honor, it should be pointed out that, in Dugerra, property cannot be sold by proxy. The landowner must be physically present to sign the paperwork. That paperwork must be executed in front of an official of the Office of Property Registration. There is her seal, at the bottom of the parchment. There is no way that Lynn Hopkins can legitimately claim she had no awareness of Dugerra, magic, or wizards before stepping in this courtroom today. With a little more digging, I'm sure I could prove that she knew what her husband was virtually from day one, but I didn't have the time needed to do that much research."

Judge Darville gave Lynn a withering look. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"My client pleads the fifth," her lawyer said.

"I thought as much. If it wouldn't be more trouble than it's worth, I'd have you arrested for perjuring yourself in my court. I am hereby finding in favor of the defendant. Trebschau Manufacturing is the property of Zyla Garibaldi. Are there any other issues to be discussed?"

"Your Honor," David said, "the plaintiff has violated the restraining order filed against her, and has been seen on Trebschau Manufacturing property."

"That's a lie!" Lynn shouted.

"That is your final warning, Ms. Hopkins. Another outburst from you, and you will be cited with contempt."

David reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a copy of the police report. He handed it to the judge. "I didn't actually want to have her arrested, but they said it was the only way to have an official record of the incident. I would like you to extend the restraining order indefinitely. It would, as I understand it, lapse at the end of this hearing."

The judge read the report and pursed his lips, then he said, "I agree. Lynn Hopkins, you are hereby ordered to remain at least 500 feet from Trebschau Manufacturing property at all times. Should you violate this order again, I will find you in contempt of court. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Lynn said. She then glared at David.

"Good. Anything else?" There were no further comments. "Very well. This court is adjourned." The judge rose and left the room.

"This isn't over, you little bitch!" Lynn snarled at Zyla.

"Oh, I think it is," David said. "If you continue to interfere with the business, not only will I file a complaint with the court, I will sue your sorry ass for interfering with the operation of a business. Your whole strategy was based on dealing with Zyla, who is both trusting, and unfamiliar with the kind of slime you are, and what's required to deal with your type.

"I, on the other hand, am quite willing to get down in the dirt with you. You want to get nasty? You don't even know what nasty is, lady. Push me too far, and you'll find out exactly what a wizard is capable of."

"Are you threatening me?" she asked, her voice getting sickly sweet.

"No, I'm telling you what will happen if you don't do what you're told. Now, be a good little girl, and let the adults get back to their lives."

Lynn reached across to slap David. When her hand passed completely through him, she gasped in utter horror. David leaned very close.

"I warned you, you don't know who you're dealing with."

At that, David turned and led Zyla and her attorney out of the room. They nodded to the bailiff, and then left the courthouse.

"How... Is it possible for me to learn magic?" the lawyer asked. He was clearly impressed with David's display.

"Sorry. If you were wizard material, you'd have already been trained by now."

"Oh. Well, damn. It looked pretty cool. Hey, you never did change his briefcase back."

David closed his eyes for a second, and then muttered, "Zurukken." Opening his eyes, he said, "Thanks for reminding me. I bet that was a fun little shock for them."

The lawyer chuckled, shook David and Zyla's hands, and then walked off.

As they were walking to the car, Zyla said, "I never said a word. I feel kind of useless."

David looked over at her. "You shouldn't have had to deal with that."

"You really see me as trusting and helpless?" she asked, frowning.

"Not helpless. In your element, you are extremely competent. But Earth is not your element, and here, you are a bit lost, yes. So is your husband, if that makes you feel any better."

"I guess it's a good thing we've got you to help us, then," she said.

David looked at her for a minute. He wasn't sure if that was meant to be sarcastic or not.

"Am I being too pushy?" David asked sincerely.

"No," she said quickly. "Sorry. I just... well... I don't like feeling this way. One of the reasons I wanted to be a housewife is that there's very little real stress. I mean, sure, if you have five kids, you're running around, making sure they're all taken care of... but I won't have that, will I? Just Grace, and she's a very easy child to care for."

David put his hand on Zyla's arm. She looked at him. "I'm sorry about the birth," he said.

She smiled at him, and put her hand on his. "Not your fault. You did everything you could. It's just one of those things. Come on, let's get back to Bolmont. I'll make you lunch before you have to go back to class. At least I know how to do that."

"You've got a deal."

David walked into the infirmary, responding to a call from Dean Lengel. He found Annie and the dean talking at Annie's desk.

"What's up?" he asked.

"I have a patient that the dean tells me is someone you need to see."

"Okay..." David worried who it might be, but he also knew that Annie knew most of his friends, so would probably have called him herself if it had been someone like Olissa. He followed Annie over to the bed where her patient lay.

"Aw, crap," David said. "The Clan do this to you?"

The person in the bed was the first-year student that was being shaken down by The Clan the night that David and Chloe had intervened. This student had told the dean what he knew about the gang.

The student snorted. "I'm not telling you guys anything. I talk to you, and look where it gets me!"

"Well, thank you for at least answering that question," David said. He turned to Annie. "How badly is he hurt?"

"Beat up, bruised. He had a broken nose. Nothing that I can't fix, but it'll take him a few days to heal."

"Any chance of telling who did it without his help?"

"Nope."

"Lovely."

Annie just nodded sympathetically.

David turned to the dean. "Why did you call me instead of Seth?"

"It's Seth's day off. He gets some of those, you know," she said with a smile.

"Hmph. Must be nice," David retorted. After a short pause, David said, "This is a big step up for these guys. They're getting revenge on someone who hurt one of their own. If they keep this up, we will quickly be unable to make any cases that we don't see ourselves. And those will be tougher, because witnesses won't back us up."

Dean Lengel nodded. "What do you want to do?"

"I'm not sure there's much we can do. Make the punishments stricter, but I'm not sure if that will work or not."

"Would it help if we loosened the reins on the DIRT team?"

"It would help, but probably not with this issue."

"Then how would it help?"

"These people aren't afraid of us. They need to be, in order for us to be effective."

"What are you asking for?"

"We need to be able to hex these people more freely."

"To what end?"

"To punish them for challenging us. There are a lot of things that these gang members do that we have to let slide, because they're not big enough for detention. However, if mouthing off to a DIRT member could get you morphed into a toad, they might reconsider."

"Hmm. I'll have to take that to the Board of Discipline."

David nodded. "And I have a patrol meeting to brief. I'll see you for the meeting on Saturday."

"Before you go, David," she said quickly, and then moved him away from the others so they could speak privately. Once they were alone, she said, "As I'm sure you're well aware, Mr. Gillenham will be released from the Bolmont jail tomorrow. I was wondering if you needed an official absentee excuse for the day."

David looked at her and frowned. "No, thank you. I have no reason whatsoever to go see him. If I went, I'd just get into trouble."

Dean Lengel nodded. "Okay. I just thought I should offer. Good luck with tonight's patrol."

"Good morning, David," Carol said. "Here for your mail?"

"If it's Friday, it must be mail day..." he said. He only came to get his mail once a week, as he never received anything that was more urgent than that, and if he did get urgent mail, he was expecting it, and so would then check more frequently.

"Here you go," she said, pulling the small bundle out from under the counter.

"Thanks. So, how'd your son's dakaball game go?" David asked. Carol's son was in ad. school, and was on the varsity dakaball team.

"They lost again. 10-3."

"Ouch," David said. "Did he get to play?"

"He was responsible for one of their goals," she acknowledged.

"Well, at least he's got that."

"Yeah."

"Tell him to hang in there. Remind him he can't play for the other players. All he can do is his personal best. The rest is out of his hands."

Carol nodded. "Thanks, I'll pass that along. Have a good one."

"You, too."

David took his mail and went outside. He sat down on one of the benches in front of the student center to look over what had arrived.

Halfway down the pile was an envelope marked with the royal crest of Callamandia. It was addressed to him, but there was no return name.

David opened the envelope, and pulled out the letter. It bore the letterhead of Livelius Elderwok.

"This could be important," David said to Jailla, who was sitting on the table, eating some berries David had gotten for him at the snack bar. Jailla walked over to read the letter.

David read slowly, taking in all of the information that Master Elderwok had provided him.

"So that's what it does," David said when he'd finally finished reading.

"No wonder Brent wanted it back," Jailla said.

"Yeah. There's probably a lot of people who want to get their hands on that thing. I think we'll keep it in the bank for now."

"Good idea," Jailla agreed.

David put the letter away and sat, thinking about what use he had for the amulet. After a while, he realized there wasn't any point in thinking it over now. If he needed it, he knew where to find it. And he had to go do some potions research. He was working on a stronger levitation potion, to see if people could be made to fly. The current levitation potions would only lift a person a couple feet off the ground. He wanted to see how high he could go. If he could get a potion that would levitate him high enough, they could use it to help the DIRT members get around.

Bundling up his mail, he and Jailla headed for Alton Hall, where Jailla would fly around while David worked. The Emmig Amulet was soon pushed completely out of David's thoughts.

David was practicing his sword moves up on the terrace when his mirror started to buzz. He sheathed his sword and pulled out his mirror. Dean Lengel appeared on the other side.

"What's up?" David asked, after they greeted each other.

"Prof. Burke needs some help removing some unruly students. Can you get up there and take them to detention?"

"Um... sure. Where is the rest of the team?" The dean had put a trace on the DIRT members, so they would know who was closest to an incident.

"Everyone is either in a dorm, or on the terrace someplace. There's no one close by."

"Crap. The normal way would take us ten minutes to get there."

"You want me to tell him to deal with it himself?" she asked.

"No. I'll go. I can be there... a bit quicker."

"Okay. Good luck."

David nodded, and then he fogged off.

The only way for David to get there in a reasonable amount of time required him to do something he hated doing. Sighing, he did it anyway, first fading, and then crossing over into Haven.

As a Haven ghost, David had two advantages. The first was that he could fly a short distance above the ground. The second was that he could move much faster than a solid being. But he had to be in Haven; he could not simply be faded in Dugerra.

Once in Haven, David took off toward the castle. He was able to float up the mountainside between levels, and he sped across the Academy level. It took him only a minute to make it to the castle. He faded back to solid form before he walked up the steps. The castle doors opened before he even got near them, and David moved down a hallway to his right.

When David entered the classroom, Prof. Burke was standing, looking in dismay at the three students who were up, throwing things and harassing the other students. Prof. Burke could, theoretically, take care of them on his own, but there were strict rules about teachers directing violence toward students. The DIRT was partially exempted from such rules, which was why they had been called for.

David said, "All right, knock it off."

One of the three, named Zeke, turned to look at David. "Ooh, look, it's the leader of the Ghost Squad. Come to arrest me, Casper?"

"Yes, actually," David replied, pulling his wand.

"Ooh. Have fun trying," the guy said.

"Paralio," David said calmly. Zeke was suddenly stiff as a board. David turned to the other two. "You can settle down and hold out your hands, or you can end up like him. I really don't care which. In fact, I'd find it much more fun to hex you, so, please, give me a reason."

The other two looked at Zeke, and then put down the books they were about to throw at him.

"You're makin' a big mistake, man," one of them, named Daniel, said. "You can't touch us..."

"Really?" David said, and applied the handcuff hex. "Gee, I seem to have managed okay."

"Make your jokes, shitface," the other one said. "We'll see who has the last laugh."

"Maybe you haven't noticed, dickweed," David said seriously. "I'm not laughing. You're disrupting class for the real students, and doing harm to my school. If it were up to me, you'd be out on your asses. It's not, which means you get to go to detention, instead. Now, move, before I decide to get nasty, anyway."

"Thank you, David," Prof. Burke said.

"No problem, Professor."

"How did you get here so fast? I figured my entire class period was shot, given we're up in the castle."

David grinned. "The Discipline Response Team is everywhere, Professor." Saying that, David let his gaze scan across the room. He got the expected response.

Prof. Burke just smiled. "As you say. Have a good day."

"You, too, Professor." David levitated his frozen prisoner out the door, and directed the others to walk. It took twenty minutes to get them down to the detention house and settled. He had to hurry now, or he'd be late for his own conjuring class.

Still that attitude. I need to check back with Joe. Maybe they're connected to someone high up in the government? That's the only way I can think they could believe themselves untouchable. And, hell, they're being touched. I mean, they're receiving the full penalty for what they're doing. I just don't get it.

"I'm not sure I want to do this," Zyla admitted. David was driving her back to her father's factory. They were there to meet a prospective buyer.

"I know," David said. "And we're not committing to anything by talking to him. He's aware that no decision has yet been made about selling, and we're just getting an offer from him."

"Okay," she said. "Do you have any idea what kind of offer would be reasonable? I mean, I know how much money is in the business' checking account, but as to how much it's worth..."

"Anything less than $750,000 is a joke," David said. "I did some research, and looked through the books, and did all the calculations I could figure out how to do. The business has been in operation for ages, has dozens of repeat clients, is ripe for expansion, has steady cash flow, and is producing good profits. I would personally think more in the two to three million range. But, of course, the final decision comes down to whether or not you actually want to sell it, and how little you're willing to let it go for."

"And I don't know about that. Three million?" she asked after a second.

"That would be an upper end," David confirmed.

"But what could the business earn for us if we kept it?"

"Well, that would depend on whether you did the expansion or not. The current business is netting you over $300,000 a year."

"Netting?" she asked.

"Sorry. The money you have left after all of the bills have been paid, including payroll, insurance, employee benefits, the taxes... In other words, money you could, if you so chose, just go out and spend on shoes."

Zyla chuckled at that.

"So," David continued, "You could, at the current pace, make that three million in ten years, anyway. Now, if you choose to expand, you'd have to outlay a significant chunk of money to make the factory bigger, but you could conceivably double, or even triple, those profits, even after paying back the loan you'd need in order to do the expansion."

"But that would be a risk, right?"

"Yes. There is no guarantee that the expansion would bring in new customers to give you more income to cover the cost of the loan.

"The other option there would be to simply continue running the business as it is, and save up all of your profits until you can afford the expansion costs on your own."

"How much do you think we'd need to do the expansion?"

"Your father had paperwork lying around from about ten years ago. After adjusting for inflation, it would be about one and a half million dollars."

"Ouch."

"It's a big chunk, all right."

"This is all so hard for me to think about," Zyla admitted. "What would you do, in my place?"

David winced. He was afraid she would eventually ask for his opinion.

"We aren't in the same situations," David said, dodging. "You have a family, and a... um, an 'anchor point', if you will. You've established a home there in Bolmont."

"Until Joe moves again."

"Okay... but that right there speaks of an additional issue. You may not be living this close to this business forever. I, on the other hand, have no ties to anything, at the moment. I'm still going to school, but the school is nearby. When I finish school, I could, if I chose, remain nearby. I have a lot more flexibility with my life than you do."

"You're avoiding my question," Zyla said with a grin.

"Yes, I am," David smiled back.

"Come on. What would you do?"

"I would keep the business, and hire someone to teach me how to run it properly. I have the necessary time and a free schedule. I'm not at all saying that is necessarily the right decision for you to make."

"You think I should sell it?"

"I'm not saying that, either. Your situation is very complicated. You live close to the business right now. You could learn to run it yourself, I have no doubt of that. But it would take a lot of your time, which would eat into your family life. It would stress you out, which is something you specifically were trying to avoid by becoming a housewife. And, if Joe gets a promotion or a transfer, you could end up in Senesty or someplace a lot further away from here, making it necessary for you to hire a business manager to handle the daily operations. That would reduce your profits, and open you up to the possibility of an unscrupulous... or simply inept... business manager harming your operation."

"How do you know all this stuff?" Zyla asked, somewhat in awe of David.

"Well, some of it is the research I've done over the last few weeks. But a lot of it is simply common sense for us Earth-types. I grew up in a world full of businesses. You get exposed to some things just by paying attention."

"I guess."

"Of course, there is something else to consider, but this you would have to discuss with Joe, and I want no part of the conversation."

"Oh? What's that?"

"You have the option - I am neither recommending it, nor opposing it - for Joe to quit his job, and the two of you run the business together. That would mean moving to Earth, for expediency's sake. It would be a huge change for the two of you, but it could also mean a very comfortable life. Hell, even $300,000 a year is nothing to sneeze at. You have the potential for up to a million dollars a year in pure profit after the expansion. That's some very nice money."

"Can you see Joe running a business?" Zyla asked seriously.

David tried not to snort, but it wasn't very successful. "Not really."

"Me, either," she replied.

The two finally pulled into the factory parking lot. They got out of David's truck and walked into the factory, to make sure things were going well. The three employees who had harassed David on both of his previous trips to this factory made sure to stay well out of his way.

A quick walkthrough showed the factory to be in working order, and so they stepped back outside to wait for the prospective buyer. He arrived in another twenty minutes. He shook hands with both of them, and then they entered the factory.

They had seen about half of the factory, when all of a sudden a part came shooting out of one of the machines. It nearly hit the prospective buyer in the head, clanging off a nearby post and falling to the floor.

"Apparently you have serious maintenance issues," the buyer said to Zyla.

Zyla looked grim.

David went over and picked up the part. It was a piece off the actual machine, rather than one of their manufactured products. David looked at it carefully.

"This was, unfortunately, not a maintenance issue. This was a worker relations issue."

"I don't understand," the man said.

David showed him the part. "This has been tampered with. That break is in a straight line. Metal doesn't fatigue that way."

"You're right, it doesn't. You have a problem with the union here?"

"They've been causing trouble since my father passed away," Zyla admitted.

"I see. I'm sorry, but I can't risk putting my money into a facility where the workers are actively sabotaging the equipment. I'm afraid I can't make an offer to you."

Zyla frowned. She said, "I understand. Thank you for coming out."

The man shook their hands and then departed. The factory was quiet now, as the shut down of one machine had automatically stopped the entire line. David spoke quietly with Zyla for a moment, and then he stepped up onto a platform attached to the broken machine. The workers had all gathered near them, since they had nothing else to do until the line was running again.

"Gentlemen," David said loudly, "I want to know who did this, and I want to know now." He held up the ruined part, to make it clear exactly what he was talking about.

No one said anything at all. David waited to a count of fifteen before he spoke again.

"No one?" he asked, and counted to fifteen once more.

"Fine," he said at last. "This factory is closed for the rest of the week. It's no skin off our noses if this plant doesn't produce anything. You're the ones who are out a day and a half of pay. Any of you who are caught on the premises, starting twenty minutes from now, until Monday morning, will be fired. Go home, gentlemen. There will be a general meeting on Monday evening, right after your shift is over. If you are interested in discussing your grievances with us, you should attend."

David stepped down off the platform, and the workers started to disperse, grumbling about the loss of pay.

"Do you think it was a good idea to send them home? I mean... we have orders to fill."

"I'm aware of that. But they need to understand that screwing with this plant is going to come directly out of their pocket, not yours."

Zyla nodded. "Before we leave, we need to check things in the office."

"Right," David said. They headed that way as the workers all made their way out of the building. David was sure Monday's meeting would be lively, to say the least.

"Okay, if we could all quiet down?" David asked the gathering. The workers were all talking amongst themselves, and it was rather noisy in the room. Slowly, the volume level went down.

"Thank you," David said. Zyla and Joe were both with him, but they had decided to let him lead the meeting. "Now, clearly there is a problem between you and us, but frankly, we don't actually know what the problem is. None of you has had the courtesy to outline in any specific way what your issue with the current management of this company is."

One of the workers at the back called out, "How about the fact that you stole this factory from old man Trebschau's wife?" There were many mutters of agreement and support to that comment.

"Okay, let's settle that one right now. Glen Trebschau's will gave this company to his daughter, Zyla. She is the one he wanted to have the company."

"Bullshit. We know that the will was contested!" another voice called out.

"Yes, it was. By Lynn Hopkins. This is a matter of public record, if you feel like checking it out with the county."

Zyla stood up. "Look, you all know my father ran this company for eighty years. He'd been married to Lynn for only six. He didn't feel she was entitled to the company yet, and he didn't trust her not to hurt the company for her own immediate gain. That's why my father left the company to me."

"And you're already trying to sell it off, so what makes you any better than her?" another voice called out.

"I don't yet know what I'm going to do. My father was a businessman. I am not. Neither my husband nor I have any business experience. That means we either have to put the business in the hands of someone who does, or we have to learn to do it right ourselves. What I am currently doing is trying to make a decision about exactly what would be the best path forward, for both myself and the business. Selling this company may, in fact, be the best thing I could do for all of you, but I have not made that decision yet."

"Right. That's why you're already bringing in buyers," the union leader said.

David asked the man, "Do you make important decisions without bothering to do research?" he waited for the man to answer, but it was clear he wasn't going to. "In order to decide whether to sell the company, she has to know how much the company would sell for. It's as simple as that. You cannot make an informed decision without getting information on which to base it."

Zyla said, "I have also been gathering information on what it would cost to expand this factory, and on how much it would cost me to keep operating it as is. You didn't know about those things because I didn't need to bring someone into the factory to give me those answers."

"So what are you going to do?" one of the other workers asked.

"I still don't know," Zyla said.

"And thanks to whichever one or more of you decided to sabotage that machine on Thursday, she still doesn't have all the information she needs in order to make that informed decision. I think we can all agree that the worst position for this company to be in, is to have an owner that doesn't know what she wants to do with it. Virtually every other situation possible would be better for all of you. Yet you are the ones keeping her in the position of uncertainty," David pointed out.

"What would you have us do, just sit around and wait?" the union leader asked.

"Frankly, yes," David said. "It's not like you're being harmed while she makes up her mind. You come to work, you do your eight hours, you get your weekly paycheck... there is no drawback for you to just giving her the time needed to make up her mind. In fact, I dare say that if your concern is about her selling the company, your actions are making that all the more likely, as you are making it appear as if you are unwilling to work with management."

There was muttering about that comment.

"So you expect us to just sit back and let her toy with our lives like that?" the union leader asked. It was clear he was trying to stir up the workers back to his side.

"You would be the only one who appears to be toying with people's lives," David replied. "Your actions in encouraging these workers to hurt their employer brings them closer to being unemployed. Already, the sabotage action of Thursday has cost everyone here a day's pay plus some. What if it had been worse? What if someone had gotten hurt? Your actions could close this factory permanently. Then who's done the damage? Zyla is trying to make a business decision. Every business owner, everywhere, has to do that all the time. She's not 'toying' with anything. She is giving heavy and serious consideration to the best course of action going forward, and a little support from the people she's employing is not too much to ask."

"And we're supposed to take the word of some snot-nosed kid. You're what, still in high school?" the union leader sneered.

"Actually, I'm twenty-two, which makes me ten years younger than the owner of the company, yes, but only four years younger than you, so I'd advise that you not rely too heavily on age here."

"And who, exactly, are you, anyway?" another worker asked, more politely.

"I'm Zyla's business partner. She brought me in because I have good research abilities and a greater familiarity with certain aspects of the situation than she does. I will admit that I am not a businessman, either. That's why we're having to do the research. We have to decide if we can learn what we need to, in order to make this company function. If we can't, then it is in your best interest, as well as hers, for this company to come under the leadership of someone who knows how to run an operation such as this one."

"So what are you asking us to do?" the shop foreman, who was not the union leader, asked.

"Just your jobs," Zyla asked. "You come in and give me a quality eight hours of work, and you'll keep getting your paycheck, you'll still have your benefits. Even if I sold the company, I would require the new owner to keep the same agreement with you as I have. I will make a decision just as soon as I think I have all the information I need to have. Hopefully, that will be soon. As soon as I come to a decision, I will let all of you know about it. Until then, I'd just ask that you... do what you've always done. Make high-quality machine parts that live up to the Trebschau Manufacturing name. My dad is watching you; make him proud."

The last was a very clever ploy, as many of the workers had been with the factory for a decade or more, and Glenn Trebschau was highly respected. There was a rumble of acceptance among the crowd.

"Are there any further questions?" David asked.

"What guarantees do we have that you won't just close the plant and fire the lot of us, selling off the equipment for the money?" the union leader asked.

"You have my word that I wouldn't do that unless I had absolutely no other options," Zyla told them. "And I cannot foresee a situation in which I wouldn't have some better option than that. This factory was my father's whole life; I don't intend to do anything that will intentionally hurt it."

"Any further questions?" David asked. There was murmuring in the crowd, but nobody raised any further issues. "Okay, well, I want to thank all of you for sticking around. If you'll just give us a little more time, I think that you will find that this situation will end up being good for all of us. Drive safe, and we'll see you all back here tomorrow morning."

David watched as the crowd broke up before turning back to Zyla and Joe. "So. How do you think it went?" David asked Joe.

"Hell if I know."

"I'm still worried," Zyla admitted.

"Me, too. That one guy is obviously our instigator."

"Excuse me," someone said. David turned to see one of the workers. It was an older gentleman, who looked like he'd been working in factories for decades.

"Yes, sir, what can we do for you?" David asked.

"I just wanted to say, not all of us are upset at what you're doing, ma'am. But you need to watch out for Nick. He's going to be a problem for you."

"Nick would be..." David prompted.

"Nick Morello, the union leader."

"The loud mouth," David said.

The man grinned at him. "He does like to hear himself talk."

"You're saying he's liable to keep causing trouble?" Joe asked.

"He's been agitating against this whole thing from the beginning. He's the one that told us you were trying to steal the company from Mrs. Trebschau."

Zyla nodded. "Thank you, Mr...?"

"Deke Farrow, ma'am. I've been working for your father for the last twenty-two years."

"Why aren't you the shop foreman?" David asked in surprise. The foreman was a much younger man.

"I'm not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree," Deke said. "I know how to run my machine, but I never learned all that fancy stuff about keeping the whole shop going. No, I'm happy where I'm at. I just hope you'll let me keep running my machine."

"We are certainly trying to make sure you can, Mr. Farrow," Zyla told him.

"Yes, ma'am. Well, I'll get out of your hair. You have a good night, now."

"You, too, Mr. Farrow."

"So, not everyone's against us," Joe said once Mr. Farrow was out of earshot.

"But we need to watch out for Morello."

"What should we do about him?" Zyla asked.

"You leave him to me," David told her. She nodded, but was clearly still worried.

David sat, gazing into his crystal ball, watching the images pass by. He was spending some time refreshing his divination skills by checking up on the future of his friends. He wanted to make sure that none of them were in any kind of trouble in the near future. Thankfully, he saw nothing to get alarmed about, though the visions of Ellie still bothered him, as it was clear that she was not going to relent where her parents were concerned. David considered giving them a warning, but he wouldn't break his promise to Ellie.

In the middle of his reading of Joe and Zyla, his mirror began to buzz. It drew him out of the gazing immediately, and he pulled out the mirror.

"Well, hey, Cat," he said, seeing who was on the other end of the connection. "What's up with you today?"

"Hey, David," she said. "This is what's up," she said, and turned slightly so that David could see behind her the load of white roses.

"So our phantom florist strikes again," David said with a chuckle.

Cat grinned. "Yes. And this time, he also left this," she said, holding up a cute little stuffed kitten plush. The kitten was wearing a jeweled necklace and looked very soft. Cat put down the plush, and then asked, "You still have no idea who it is?"

"No," David said, then got a thought. "But I might have a way to find out. Let me work on this and get back to you, okay?"

"Sure. I'd like to thank whoever it is. They've always brightened my day."

"Literally," David said.

Cat giggled. "No, seriously. Each time he's sent them, I've been having a dull day at best. Today's been a really frustrating day, with students seeming to not be really trying and such. These flowers certainly improved my mood."

"I'm sure that your admirer hoped they would. Anyway, let me see what I can dig up."

"Thanks, David."

"No problem." David fogged off, and then he turned back to his crystal ball. He'd not considered divining the answer to the question until now. The real question was, how do you divine the future of an unknown person?

David sat and thought for a long moment, but then he got an idea. He decided to divine Cat's future, as it related to her secret admirer. He focused his thoughts, and then concentrated, and he began his seeing.

Five minutes later, David sat back with a grin on his face.

Now, how to confirm it...

David walked down the hallway, casually observing what was around him. As he neared his destination, he saw something on the floor. He reached down to pick it up, and he saw that it was a white rose petal.

Interesting.

David's destination was only a couple doors down. Though it was highly rude, he chose not to knock. That might give his suspect time to hide the evidence. Instead, David merely opened the door to his office.

"Well," he said as the man turned around in surprise. The man had been sweeping up a myriad of white rose petals. "If it isn't our phantom florist," David finished with a grin.

"David, I..." the man started.

David closed the door behind himself and said, "We should talk."

The next day, there was an impromptu party to enjoy the first snowfall of the year. It was late in coming this year, and so everyone was enjoying it all the more. Several inches had fallen overnight, and Woodward was covered in a sparkling blanket of white.

David was patrolling alone, since it was still daytime. He wanted to make sure that The Clan wasn't going to take advantage of this snow to do something. What they would do, he didn't know, but just because he couldn't think of something, didn't mean they couldn't.

There were a lot of kids out, family members of the faculty, who were making snow angels and building snowmen. One major snowball war had broken out, and it had seemingly absorbed every other snowball fight. David detoured around it; he didn't want to interfere with - or get caught up in - their fun.

Several of the faculty were out, as well, enjoying the weather, which was overcast, but bright. There was only a very light breeze, and so the cold wasn't intolerable. David greeted each of them as he saw them.

David was surprised, as he neared Byron Hall, to see Cat approaching him. Since she did not live on campus, she had no reason to be here on a Saturday. She was clearly wanting to talk to him, however, as she was heading straight for him.

"Good afternoon, Professor," David said to her. There were children and other students nearby.

"Hey, David," she said.

"What brings you on campus today?"

"I was hiding some of Garrett's Christmas presents in my office," she said with a grin.

David chuckled. "Long way to go to hide presents."

"Garrett's a little snoop. The only place they're safe is someplace he can't go."

"Maybe he'll be a detective when he grows up."

Cat snorted. "Maybe. Say, what are you planning to do for Yule this year?"

"I'm going to stay in my house down in Bolmont. Actually, I'm thinking about throwing a Christmas Party. If I do, you and the kids would be welcome to come."

"Well, thank you. I don't know if I could make it, but I appreciate the invitation."

David just nodded. They continued to walk quietly until Cat asked, "So... did you make any progress on finding out who my secret admirer is?"

For a long moment, David said nothing. Finally, he said, "Yes."

"You did? Who is it?"

"I can't tell you," he replied.

"What? Why not?"

"Because I promised him I wouldn't."

"Now, wait a minute," Cat started.

David interrupted her. "Cat... let him have his moment, okay? Just enjoy the flowers. He's a bit insecure about approaching you, and this is just his way of working up to it."

"So, how long do I have to wait?" she grumped.

"That... I don't know. Until he feels he's ready to reveal himself, I guess."

"And you're sure it's not you?"

"Trust me. Your secret admirer looks nothing like me. Besides, I admire you openly. Why keep it a secret?" he asked with a grin.

"Aw," Cat said, and then wrapped her arm around his back. "Thanks, David. Will I... like... who my admirer is?"

"Now, how should I know? What am I, psychic?"

"Well, you are a Diviner..." she said.

"Everybody's always gotta bring that up..." David said in mock frustration.

Cat giggled.

"Good evening, Professor," Prof. Blackstone said as David entered the classroom.

David chuckled and shook his head. Prof. Blackstone had taken to teasing David about his Conjuring class time. "Good evening, sir," David replied.

"You know, maybe I won't let you teach my class second semester. You're starting to make me look bad," Prof. Blackstone said with a grin. "There are already five students signed up for your class. No one has signed up for any of my other ones yet..."

David raised his eyebrows. "I'm sure at least one of them is my friend, Flo, sir. She doesn't count."

"Hmph," Prof. Blackstone said with a grin. "As I said, Mr. Stroud, you really need to consider teaching."

"I'll keep it in mind, Professor."

"Now, on to tonight's practice. I expect this to go very quickly, because I know you've already done it before."

"Oh? What are we doing?"

"Conjuring into a locked room."

"When did I do that?" David asked.

"Come come, Mr. Stroud," Prof. Blackstone chided. "I know all about your little back and forth with Prof. Quayde. The shrieking box?"

"Oh! Yeah, I'd forgotten about that. So that's what we're working on?"

"Yes. At least briefly. As I said, I expect you to handle this without problem. Then we will move on to the last major part of Conjuring."

"Wait, what? We're nearing the end already?"

"As I said, David, you are very good at this. We still have many things to learn, but only one major component. That would be conjuring an object both to and from a place other than where you are. After that, there are still things to learn, but they are... nuances. Tricks and shortcuts to help you with specific tasks. I don't normally do this, but I'm letting you know when you'll be tested. I'm scheduling your Mastery Test for the end of the school year. I'll give you an exact date and time when we get closer to it."

"Wow. You said two to three years," David objected.

"Yes, well, let's face it, you shaved about six months off that when you mastered conjuring out of the box so quickly. In general, you've just gone faster than expected. I don't anticipate you will have any further problems. There aren't really any stumbling blocks left for you to get past; at this point, it really is simply learning, and practicing what you know."

"Yes, sir. So, where do we start for tonight?"

"Hey, Ellie. Come on in."

"Damn, you guys have got it nice," Ellie said. It was the first time she'd been in David's dorm room. "You have a whole kitchen? We don't even get a food cabinet!"

"Yeah, well... you have to go through four years of pain and suffering to get to live like this," David said with a grin.

Ellie giggled. "I guess."

"So, what class is it you're needing help with?"

"Charms and Hexes. Prof. Webster's explanations just don't make any sense to me. I was wondering if you could help me out."

"Well, I'll give it my best shot. Spellcasting is not my strong suit, but I'm not too bad at it."

"How can you be a fifth-year wizard and not be an ace at spellcasting?" Ellie asked.

"My strongest skills are Potions, Conjuring, Divination and Elemandy. While there are spells for all of those, they're not the primary skill needed in any of them."

"Oh. But you passed Charms and Hexes, right?"

"With an A, yes."

"Good. 'Cause I'm looking at an F if I don't figure this out."

"Well, let's take a look at it, then."

The two moved over to David's desk and sat down to go over the chapter. For a couple hours, they alternated between reading and practicing, as David explained the subject to her as best he could.

"You're a lot easier to understand than Prof. Webster is," Ellie said when they'd decided to call it a day.

"Thanks. Like I said before, I don't know her, so I don't know what her teaching is like. I had Prof. Phillips for all my C&H classes."

"Wish I had. If nothing else, he's fun to look at."

"Uh-huh," David said with a smirk. He remembered the girls all sighing over Prof. Phillips during classes.

"Hey, how come you're not on patrol?" Ellie asked as they went to sit on the couch.

"I'm taking the night off. I do that once in a while, so I can actually have a life."

Ellie giggled. "Yeah, working all the time's got to be a pain."

David shrugged.

"So, are you coming to our house again for Yule?"

"No, I'm going to stay in my house in Bolmont. Which is something I've been meaning to talk to you about, actually. You're welcome to come down and stay with me over break. I'm inviting several of my friends to stay. It's easier than trekking all the way home for a couple of them. We'll have our own Yuletide celebration, including Christmas."

"Sounds like fun. Count me in."

"Great. You think Anne would want to stay?"

Ellie made the "I don't know" noise. "I didn't know you two were that friendly."

"We're not, really, but my thinking was, if Anne stayed over, then I would just invite your parents to come to the house for the Christmas Party. At least then you'd get to see them for a day or two."

"Oh, yeah, that'd be nice."

"You know, since it'll be your last Christmas with them, and all..." David said.

"David..." Ellie said in warning.

"I'm just sayin'," he told her.

"Uh-huh. You want me to ask Anne?"

"No, I'll do it. It'll be more 'proper' coming from me."

"Uh-huh. Do you always do things the proper way?"

"I try, for the most part," David said.

"Hmm. Well, then take me back to the bedroom and screw my brains out properly," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and smiling at him.

"Well, I'll try..." he said, smiling back at her.