***
On his first day of school, Cassius woke up early, as usual. After his morning routine and changing into his sports clothes, he quietly went to the bay window and began to warm up while the other boys were still asleep. About an hour later, when the well-warmed-up boy finished his push-ups, his classmates began to wake up, tossing and turning in their beds.
"Who are you, Snowflake?" came the hoarse, sleepy, surprised voice of Julius Mbon, who was sitting on his bed and staring stupidly at Cassius.
"Who?" Cassius didn't understand at first. Then it dawned on him. He wasn't wearing his amulet, so he looked exactly as he really was: a hundred per cent platinum blonde.
"Yeah, that's what I look like," he smiled, showing his white teeth. "What's the matter, Julius?"
"No, no," he backtracked, "it's just that yesterday you were a real Congolese, and now suddenly you're European."
The other guys also looked closely at Cassius.
"Well, yes," he spread his arms, "I'm white, but I've lived in Kinshasa since I was a child with my teacher. I told you yesterday that I'm Chibuzo Inu's personal student. My parents gave me to him when I was a child because my magic is forbidden in my country and I would have been in big trouble there. That's why I came here when I saw the sleepy stone in my hand this morning, like everyone else.
"You know," said Hassan al Mansur judiciously, "I have no prejudices against white people in Morocco, but Africa is a big place and there are some places where you'd better not show up. Some people will just be surprised, like Julius, but many will test you. Europeans have brought too much misery to the peoples of Africa.
As if to confirm his words, the fourth boy sniffed silently and glared at Cassius. Then he couldn't take it anymore, jumped out of bed and pointed an accusing finger at Malfoy:
"It's because of you white people that my family is forced to trade only in our town market. In Debarque, white people rule everything, and my family is forced to sell their goods for next to nothing. You can't take anything to other countries to sell if you're not white. People like you are suffocating our freedom. Go back home! I will become a warrior mage and then I will show you fat Europeans your place," Anbes Ayele finished fiercely.
"It's rather strange to divide the world into black and white," Cassius shook his head reproachfully. "You should live among people of different nationalities, and then you'll probably understand that whether someone is good or bad depends only on the person, not the colour of their skin."
Shaking his head reproachfully once more, Cassius went to his bed.
"All right, guys, I'm going to take a shower," he said, taking off his training shirt as he walked and heading straight for the wardrobe.
"I still hate white people," Anbes muttered under his breath.
Cassius, standing under the shower, just sighed. His teacher, Chibuzo Inu, had warned him that any strong magical source, such as a school of magic, would quickly drain the power of a hidden amulet. And if yesterday the power stored in it was still enough for the distribution and the faculty lounge, by morning it was completely depleted. This meant that he would have to deal with some problems because of the colour of his skin. Perhaps he would have to get up earlier in the morning and meditate over the amulet to recharge it. Then the energy should last at least until evening. Of course, Chibuzo Inu had informed the school administration about the skin colour and nationality of his personal student, but the management had no objections.
If he wears the amulet at all times and does not constantly pick on the other children, there will be no complaints about him. Minor skirmishes and fights are commonplace at Wagadu School. It is believed that such pastimes, if they do not greatly affect the students' academic performance, are even beneficial for their development as adults and independent wizards. After getting out of the shower, Cassius told the boys that he would not be going to breakfast today because he needed to charge his amulet, and he sat down in a meditative pose, clutching the artefact in his hands. It was still early for class, so the boy decided that he would finish charging the medallion before then. Feeling the power inside him, he directed it to his hands, which were clutching the amulet that concealed his appearance. As soon as the charge reached its maximum, a slight strike of lightning would signal that the filling with magic was complete.
Adil Kubanga, a fifth-year student of the combat faculty and also the head of the first year, looked at the children eagerly munching their breakfast at the table in the large hall. One student was missing, but his neighbours said that he wasn't hungry and had simply stayed in his room. Attending breakfast was optional, and many students preferred to sleep in or prepare for classes, especially those who had forgotten to do their homework the night before. Adil sighed sadly. Not only had the workload increased significantly this year, but the fifth-year students also had to take care of the younger ones.
It was fine when you got a third or even a fourth year student, they were already grown up, but first years were first years. They were the most restless and mischievous students, constantly sticking their nosy noses into everything at school. And now he had to run after them like a babysitter. It was good that the girls had their own head girl. Chip Chang from Tanzania, just like him. The two of them immediately agreed to help each other and fill in for each other if necessary. So now, because Chip Chang liked to sleep in in the morning, he brought all the students to breakfast.
When they returned, the happy children rushed into the room together. Cassius, who had already finished charging his amulet, was reading a book of spells left for him by his teacher.
"You missed out on a lot of good food, Cassius," said Julius, the perpetually skinny and hungry boy.
"And Bagir's flatbreads were just like home," sighed dark-faced Hassan. "Only my mother could make them like that. She would spread honey butter on them, and no one could be dragged away from the table until everything was gone," he sighed nostalgically.
"The first class today is transfiguration," he glanced at Anbes's sheet. "Then combat training," he glanced at Cassius. "Then after lunch, history of magic and potion-making."
Malfoy ignored the boy's glances; time would tell. Either Anbesa would calm down, or Cassius would have to explain to the fat boy that not everyone in white should show their character, as someone might punch them in the nose for such behaviour.
Gathering their textbooks, the boys teleported to the living room, where Chang was already waiting for all the first-year students to take them to their first class.
"Okay, boys and girls," she said in a shrill voice. "Now follow me, turn your heads from side to side, and memorise the way. Next time, you'll go on your own, following the arrows on the floor. Imagine in your mind which classroom you want to go to, and a path will appear in front of you. No one gets lost in our school, despite all its mysterious corridors," she said proudly, her nose in the air.
Having reached the transfiguration classroom together, the first-year students rushed inside. Inside was a spacious room with high ceilings and tables arranged in a neat semicircle in front of the lectern. Sitting down as best they could, the children began to look around, and there was plenty to see. The room, decorated with red and black wood, created a cosy atmosphere, and it felt as if the children had gathered in some ancient library. Tall arched windows provided enough light, but it seemed as if the corners of the room were shrouded in semi-darkness.
Suddenly, a falcon flew in through the open window and smoothly transformed into a short, plump man behind the desk.
"Phew," he exhaled, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, "I made it."
His rather scruffy appearance, dreadlocks, and general impression of being more of a hippie than a wizard threw the children off balance. "And this elderly teenager is our Transfiguration teacher? Are you serious?" most of the children thought.
Meanwhile, the teacher, catching his breath and clearing his throat, introduced himself:
"Hello, children, I am your Transfiguration professor, my name is Ober Sarpon. I am a master and also an Animagus. Well, you probably noticed that," the teacher smiled again. "I can turn into a falcon and a lion," he said, immediately transforming into a large, well-fed lion and roaring softly.
The children didn't have time to be frightened before the professor turned back into a human.
"Transfiguration is an amazing science," he began seriously. "It was first mentioned in Ancient Greece, where there lived a magician named Falco Asalon, who wanted to learn how to fly so badly that one day he jumped off a cliff. He would have ended up a pile of flesh at the bottom of the abyss, but by concentrating on the sensations of flight, he was able to transform himself into a bird just before he hit the ground. And so he survived.
"What kind of bird was it?" asked one of the girls sitting at the front desk.
"It was a falcon, young lady," replied Professor Sarpong with a smile. "Many students at our school know how to transform themselves into birds, as self-transfiguration allows us to more fully enjoy the beauty of nature around us. Now, children, let's do the first exercise to develop the skills of a true magician. Here is a task for you to practise your concentration and attention.
The lesson passed quickly and cheerfully, although there was no magic to be seen, except for what the professor demonstrated. Otherwise, it was just ordinary exercises that some of the students had already done at home under the guidance of their parents or teachers.
The combat magic lesson felt like it was taking place underground. Adil Kubanga passed through the teleport with the first-year students, announcing aloud the destination: the combat and dark magic classroom. Upon entering the auditorium, the students unexpectedly found themselves in a gloomy stone hall with high ceilings, where, apart from a handful of school desks huddled in a corner, the rest of the space was practically empty, except for another structure in one corner that resembled a duelling platform, and a row of metal golems against the same wall, possibly serving as training dummies for practising spells.
The professor turned out to be a dry, ancient old man who sat on a three-legged stool and looked at the children mockingly.
"Here come the new recruits of dark wizards," the magician said with a hint of hidden mockery. "My name is Joe Bliksim, and I am your teacher of dark and combat magic. These two types of sorcery are closely intertwined and inextricably linked. The first branch encompasses all kinds of protection against dark forces and magical creatures, which is taught in a truncated form in many magic schools around the world today. The second branch is the use of dark forces by the wizard himself.
The teacher looked at the children and raised his finger admonishingly:
"As you must immediately understand, the use of dark magic against fellow students like yourselves is punishable by immediate expulsion. This rule was incorporated into our school's charter a thousand years ago and has been enforced ever since. Whether your parents are simple shepherds or rulers of tribes or countries, it makes no difference. You will still be expelled. Therefore, you must learn all the signs of truly dark spells without error, so that you do not make a mistake when using them in fights. And fights and other disputes between students, I tell you, are a common occurrence," the old man shook his finger at the children.
After a short pause, Bliksen continued his explanation:
"The only thing the school administration forbids is when bystanders get hurt in a fight. That is, if you decide to fight someone, find a special duelling hall and go ahead. The main thing is not to forget to call the house spirit afterwards so that he can take the injured to the infirmary," Bliksen smiled again. "And now, children, here is your first exercise in scary dark magic for neophytes:
"Fifty laps around the wall, march!" The old wizard grinned, and the slowest or most clumsy children immediately felt a stinging spell just below their backs. The shocked children immediately set off to catch up with those who were already running calmly along the wall of the hall, where, for some reason, even the half-erased markings of the tracks were visible on the springy floor.
After somehow running the entire distance, the crowd of first-year students gathered again near the teacher's stool. No one was left behind, as the professor did not hesitate to stimulate the stragglers with lightning or stinging spells. After the warm-up, when the children had calmed down a little and sat down at their desks, a blackboard appeared out of thin air next to the professor with a piece of chalk, which he immediately began to use to write down today's lecture. While the children copied all the known signs of dark magic from the blackboard, the old teacher seemed to be dozing on his stool. When the lesson was over, the children were sent to their rooms so they could take a shower and tidy themselves up before dinner. After a hearty meal, which, although not as lavish as the distribution, was nevertheless filling and tasty, the head boy took the first-year students back to the History of Magic classroom.
It was a spacious, bright room with a pile of soft sofas, couches and armchairs arranged in front of a low table, behind which sat a pretty woman in a beautiful, colourful dress. Her jet-black skin seemed to glow from within. It was difficult to determine the age of the sorceress; she could have been twenty or forty at the same time. Smiling and shaking her bunch of small multicoloured pigtails playfully, she tilted her head slightly to one side and said in a deep, resonant voice:
"Hello, children. My name is Eh-sheh Aruba, and I am your teacher of magical history. Today we will begin studying one of the most important subjects in magical education. After all, without knowing the past, you cannot understand the present. By understanding the wisdom or mistakes of the wizards who lived in the past, you will be able to avoid repeating their mistakes and surpass their achievements. Now, take out your quills and write down the first topic for today's lesson: "The Goblin Rebellions: Their Precursors, Causes, and Consequences," said the professor, and the topic immediately appeared on the board.
Leaving the history classroom after the lesson ended, the students stopped in the corridor by the window, waiting for the girls' head girl, whose turn it was to escort them to their next lesson.
"What a boring story," Julius Mbonno yawned.
"But the teacher is so pretty," sighed a girl from their class standing next to him.
"All this ancient history makes me sleepy," the boy continued. "Why do I need to know what goblins didn't like in ancient times? Nowadays, they probably like everything, raking in money from everyone they can."
"Oh, boys," the girl pouted.
Before Julius could respond, he took a deep breath, but suddenly, the head boy's shrill voice rang out again.
"Right, students, quickly follow me," Chip Chang said as always, in a decisive tone, and immediately rushed down the corridor towards the teleportation hall.
Once again today, after passing through the portal, the children found themselves in some kind of underground chamber. The room was filled with tables, each of which was comfortable for two students to work at. On each table was a cauldron with a burner underneath, which was currently unlit. All the workstations were separated from each other by magical screens that barely trembled in the air, and above each one was a translucent something that flickered in the light of the lamps, apparently monitoring the air above the little wizards to prevent the children from being poisoned by any toxic fumes from the potions.
At the teacher's desk, facing the door, sat a thin, bald man in loose-fitting golden robes that stood out brightly against the general gloom of the room.
"Hello, students," the man croaked, "sit down wherever you like. My name is Izam Khune, I am a master potion maker and your professor. Today we will talk about safety measures in my subject. "Potion-making" is one of the oldest forms of magic, allowing you to achieve sometimes incredible results. Perhaps some of you have already heard," the professor looked at them intently, "that you can even get lucky just by taking a sip from a vial. Or become much stronger physically by drinking the right potion. Or stop bleeding immediately by pouring a potion on a terrible wound. If potion-making solves so many magical problems, why don't all wizards become potion makers? It's actually quite simple, the teacher said with a dismissive smirk. My subject is so complex and dangerous that it is unlikely that even a few people in your class will be able to understand all the subtleties of this incredible magical science. To love the gentle bubbling of a boiling cauldron, to intuitively feel when to stir a potion and in which direction to do so depending on the season, the time of day, and whether it is the beginning or end of the brewing process. Enjoy every minute you spend at the cauldron, he said dreamily, shaking his head. Understand that you are creating magic with your own hands. I don't want to get your hopes up, but if there is even one student in your class who is talented in my subject and capable of getting an 'Excellent', then this year's intake is a good one, the professor concluded harshly. Now get out your scrolls and quills, we're going to write down the safety rules.
The potion maker sighed and continued instructively:
"You must learn them so well that even if you wake up in the middle of the night thirty years from now, you will be able to recite them without the slightest hesitation. After all, your health, and sometimes your life, will often depend on your adherence to these rules, written in the blood of fools and experimenters. "Potion-making does not forgive mistakes. If you don't want to accidentally grow a fish tail instead of a nose, you'd better learn everything quickly," the potion maker allowed himself another poisonous smile. "And those who don't learn will not survive even a semester, I promise you."
As they headed to dinner, the first-year students looked extremely tired. Their first day at school had left a lasting impression. The pile of homework assignments that had to be prepared for the next lessons made many of them feel gloomy. It was good that Chang had told them where the library was and explained that it had many books that would help the first-year students write the necessary essays and prepare for tomorrow's classes. Sitting at a table in the large hall, Cassius saw that the depressed and pensive mood of the first-year students was not limited to their faculty, but was shared by everyone. The children sat there, overwhelmed by the information they had received, listlessly picking at their food. Only a few groups of freshmen in the hall were active, laughing and talking loudly with their neighbours. In one of these groups, Cassius noticed Anbes Ayele, who was explaining something to two burly guys with short, stiff hair. Cassius caught the quick glances the group was throwing his way. "Probably, this fat guy hasn't changed his mind about white people," thought Cassius. "I'll have to teach them a lesson in good manners, and put the fat guy in his place at the same time. It's not good to have someone who hates you living next door. Who knows, he might try to mess things up again."
So, anticipating trouble, he asked the first senior he came across:
"Tell me, please, where can first-years fight each other at school?"
The senior looked at Cassius in surprise:
"Wow, kids! It's your first day in Uagadu, and you're already looking for a place to beat each other up? No wonder the mask sent you to the combat faculty," he grinned. "Listen, basically:
"There's a blue door in every corridor. Behind it is always a duelling hall. It's multidimensional, so even if someone else has gone in before you, you'll never meet them unless you picture in your mind who has already entered. That means that when you know I've gone in there, you can enter the same version of the room, but if you don't know, you'll enter some other room that you imagine in your mind. Of course, no matter how hard you try, you can't create a dining room with pies in a duelling hall. It's ancient combat magic. And another thing," he continued seriously, "be sure to call the house spirit to take the injured person to the hospital ward. This is specifically stipulated in the school rules. Otherwise, punishment is inevitable, up to and including expulsion, if the duel results in the death or irreparable injury of students.
Cassius nodded intently and absorbed the knowledge like a sponge.
Having spent a lot of time on the streets of Kinshasa, he had long since learned how to stand up for himself and how to take a leading position in a group of teenagers, all without using witchcraft. The magic lessons that Chibuzo Inu had drummed into him since childhood could have done more harm than good. Most of the spells he had learned were aimed at killing opponents, and Cassius had good reason to believe that almost all of them were the very black magic that the professor had forbidden his students to use during the first lesson. Therefore, in the anticipated fight, Cassius relied more on his enhanced telekinesis and natural agility than on spells.
Leaving the Great Hall, Cassius headed down the corridor towards the portal passages.
"Hey, snowball!" Anbesa Ayele called out to him, standing with four other guys on the other side of the corridor. "Come here, we need to talk to you."
Among them were the same tough guys Ayele had been talking to at lunch. The other two in the group also looked like typical residents of the poor neighbourhoods of Kinshasa.
"What do you want, Anbesa?" Cassius said with an almost friendly smile. "I see you've found some new friends and decided to introduce us after dinner? I'm always happy to meet new people. Hello, my name is Cassius, and you are?"
The teenagers muttered a greeting, and Anbesa, the ringleader of the group, continued:
"We don't like it that a white student has appeared at this school. Wagadu is only for proper wizards. White people shouldn't even show their faces here. They could lose their health, or even their lives."
"Oh, what does that have to do with me?" Malfoy asked, maintaining his friendly expression and feigning surprise.
"Because you're white, just hidden under a protective amulet," Anbes pointed an accusing finger at him.
"You know what, fatso," Cassius said harshly, curling his lips, "I think you're just a stupid idiot looking for a reason to fight. So, I don't mind going into that room over there, the door I can see behind you down the corridor. There, I'll quickly explain to you morons how we deal with stupid thugs in Kinshasa. Do you understand me, 'kicha cha boo'?
Anbesa grimaced and, wasting no more time on conversation, strode towards the door of the combat hall. Imagining an empty room, the boys took turns going inside, but two teenagers remained standing at the door to prevent Cassius from escaping if necessary. But Malfoy had no intention of running away. Instead, he moved further into the centre of the room and turned to face the group.
"So, are you planning to have a one-on-one duel here, or are you going to gang up on me?" he said mockingly, looking at the angry teenagers who were nervously shifting their feet in front of him.
"I'd be honoured to duel you here," Anbes hissed viciously. "We'll beat you so badly you'll end up in hospital with no teeth. And you'll only be able to walk with a cane."
Feeling the support and fury of their leader, the group of teenagers rushed at Malfoy like a pack of wolves, surrounding him on all sides, without even taking out their wands. Cassius, still smiling, pulled out his wand and cast a weak "Shield Charm," then pointed his left hand at the fat boy and snapped his fingers demonstratively.
The telekinetic blow was terrifying. While the rest of the crowd tried to get in from the sides, bumping into the shield held by the wand, poor Anbes was spun around in the air and simply smeared across the wall. The fat teenager slid down like a squashed fly and lost consciousness. The bloody stain left at the point of impact shocked the attackers, and they recoiled sharply from Malfoy. Someone tried to retrieve the wand, which was caught on something in the pocket of his robe, while others rushed towards the door in an attempt to escape, but then Cassius waved his hand again and the room was filled with the disgusting sound of breaking bones.
The attackers fell to the floor like broken toys, wherever they were standing. The silence was shattered by a growing chorus of screams, curses and swearing.
"What, you monkeys, do I need to explain to you who you can mess with at school and who you can't? Your fat friend is quiet, I guess he didn't like his encounter with the wall, huh?" Malfoy grinned lazily. "All right, in honour of the first day of school, I'll let you off.
After that, he summoned the house elf, as instructed, and asked him to take the injured to the infirmary. Anbes Ayeye never returned to their room after what happened. He was transferred to the Faculty of Nature and Stars, where he subsequently tried to stay out of Malfoy's sight as much as possible. Cassius, without hiding anything, told the guys that he and the fat boy had a serious argument about skin colour and the presence of white people at school. And then he had to explain his position to Anbesa. The fact that the boy was not at all boyish and involved other students in the fight showed him in all his glory as a narrow-minded and cowardly hyena.
Apart from this incident, his studies went like a dream. New knowledge was hammered into the children, sometimes quite literally, so Cassius and his classmates didn't even notice how quickly the final exams flew by and the first year came to an end.
Stepping out onto the courtyard in front of the castle, Malfoy said goodbye to his friends. Of course, they hadn't become close friends over the year, but they chatted with each other in a friendly manner. Hassan al Mansur even invited him to visit him in Marrakesh in the summer, promising a mind-blowing holiday.
Cassius clenched the moonstone in his hand and found himself on the portal platform near the Chibuzo Inu estate. He was about to spend his summer holidays, during which his teacher, before sending him to school, had promised to organise a brutal survival marathon for Malfoy.
***
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