Rowena’s Apprentice
ROWENA
Unsurprisingly, the months that Rowena had spent creating a perfect book for training genius children in the art of magic was very hard to spread. Despite the fact that she had been raised by her wizard father, Rowena was yet to find a way to show the world the necessity of teaching children magic. In fact, although she lived in a magical town, no one seemed to share her belief that children had to be taught to harvest their magic.
Even her father had told her to cut her losses and find a new profession, such as potion-making or spell-crafting. Such jobs would certainly entertain her, but they would not leave her a lasting legacy or a true outlet for her creativity. She had been described as the brightest witch of her time, and she intended to keep it that way.
Her book had been completed, but she had no one to work with. A few children at the orphanage of a neighboring mugwort town had shown magical prowess, but Rowena had decided she needed one in particular to tutor. She had gone to the orphanage every day for the past month, deciding to interview each child until one showed the true curiosity that was necessary for studying magic.
Today, she was interviewing a child named Blair. She had wide brown eyes and flaming red hair, and had whispered to the other children every day she saw Rowena. If nothing else, she seemed willing to study magic. Rowena tightened her blue cloak around her shoulders and placed her hands in her lap as she sat down at the table. “Hello, Blair.”
“Hello, Mizz Ravenclaw.” The girl’s eyes were unfocused, as if she could not see properly.
“Madame will do, Blair.”
“Oh, but I don’t want to fall out of habit, and the people at the orphanage want me to call the older people Mizz or Mizzter.”
The child spoke with a Scottish accent similar to Rowena’s own. She chose to ignore the child’s avoidance of her title. “Do you know why I’m here, Blair?”
“No, but I do know that you have come in here every day for the past two months, and you come and talk to one of us and then we all go back to our rooms looking dejected. I want to know what you tell them. Is it finally my turn to know?”
“Yes, Blair, it is. Now, have you heard of magic?”
“The things in the storybooks? Of course I’ve heard of it. The orphanage mother tells me it’s all a fib.”
“Do you believe her?”
Blair paused, fiddling with the lace trim at the skirt of her dress. “Sometimes I see things, Mizz Ravenclaw.”
This caught the attention of Rowena. “Such as?”
“I see a lot of fairy creatures and such, but everyone tells me it’s just an overactive imagination. Horses, mostly.”
Thestrals, then. “Have you ever seen anyone die, Blair?”
“My mother, Mizz Ravenclaw. She was holding me when she died.”
“I see. And had it ever occurred to you that that could be the reason you can see the horses?”
“Oh, but it’s not just the horses! Sometimes I see these fairy creatures, but no one believes me. Black and yellow like a bee, but they’re shaped like a small person.”
Rowena cocked her head. Nargles. Very rare, on the verge of extinction, but they would always love to cause trouble. “How often do you see these creatures?”
“Oh, as often as I seek them out. I want to learn about them.”
The signs of intelligence in Blair were plain to see, and yet Rowena still wasn’t sure. “Tell me, does the orphanage mother say you’re bright?”
“I’m afraid not, Mizz Ravenclaw. The orphanage mother says I’ve got no sense in me, that I’ll never learn a thing. I taught myself to read, though, and I’m learning to write.”
Rowena smiled. “How would you like to come with me to a town where everyone believes in your fairy creatures?”
“Are they sane? The orphanage mother says people who believe me aren’t sane.”
At that, Rowena shared a secret smile that she reserved for children, removing from her bag the wand she had bought from a vendor years ago. With a single swoosh, Blair’s eyes focused. “Wow,” Blair breathed, smiling.
“Do you think I am sane, Blair?”
“Maybe I’m not.”
“Does it matter if you are sane, if you still have your wits about you? Come with me, I am going to take you from this dreary place, into a place where you and I are appreciated.”
Blair nodded and hopped out of her chair, taking the child’s hand gingerly. Seeing the orphanage mother as she left the room, Rowena gave her a pointed look. “I expect you will appreciate my taking this child out of your hands, Madame?”
“I… I just…” The orphanage mother looked stunned, sputtering her words out like a broken spout. “The fee! You need to pay a fee—”
“Oh, yes, yes,” Rowena said, flipping her a coin of gold, which more than doubled the fee of adoption. Mugwort money was no object to her, not when she could create it so easily. The orphanage mother looked more than stunned, her mouth hung wide open. Blair waved cheekily as she left with Rowena.
“I’ll never have to go back, Mizz Ravenclaw?”
“Why, of course not, Blair. They could not appreciate you while they had you, could they? I see no reason why you should not become my apprentice.”
“That seems like a lot of work, Mizz Ravenclaw.”
“If you are really a little girl, it is work that you will like.” Indeed it would be, for Rowena could not think of a child half as curious or creative as Blair that would not enjoy the work of learning to manipulate magic, take care of creatures that defied natural laws, and brew potions that would make a mugwort die of shock. She couldn’t imagine a world in which Blair wouldn’t love her life as an apprentice.