The Theory of Magic (Book 1)

19 // Tickled Dragons & Strange Ravenclaws

The vampire frowned and released a final, lingering, defeated sigh as the hedge witch looked on.

"I cannot tell," Grigor said as he turned toward Fi, sharp eyes glittering in the moonlight before his head tipped and shadowed his face once more. "Dark magic has indeed been cast, but it is muddled. They were careful to blur their signature, and I regret to say it is beyond my expertise."

Fi wrinkled her nose and leaned into the railing at her back, ignoring the creak of the reinforced wood, the groaning of the empty stadium and the echo of the midnight wind spiraling through the stands. "Well, it was worth a go," she replied.

Grigor fidgeted with the sleeve of his black robes for a moment, one foot on a bench, the other on the floor, his nose turned into the breeze and whatever scent it brought with it. He stared at the distant castle glimmering with torchlight despite the late hour and marveled at its mysticism, its beauty. It could steal a man's breath away.

Grigor had never had cause to cross the ancient school's formidable wards before, having been educated at Durmstrang in his youth—before his transformation, before those unremittingly dark years, before he escaped certain execution arm in arm with a pale-eyed hedge witch who had no respect for torch-wielding mobs or anti-vampire agendas. He had been surprised to hear from Fi so soon, then shocked by her request to meet her at the gates in the middle of the night.

That said, Grigor was somewhat...inured to Fi's more outlandish wishes by now.

"I must confess, I am not entirely sure why you asked me to come check. Certainly you are more an authority on this matter than I?"

She shook her head, the fine filaments of her dark hair escaping the loose braid falling to the railing at her back. "Not in this. You know that."

He considered her, wondering, then parted his lips in realization. "Ah. My pardon, scumpa mea. I had forgotten." Delphinia may know magic in a way Grigor could never dream of comprehending—but deciphering the minutiae of a Dark spell's origin could be difficult if you yourself were a thrumming embodiment of a Dark curse. Vampires could taste magic, could see the imprints of it if they lived long enough and turned their eyes from the lighter arts. Even now, Grigor saw the gray mist filling the staffing section of the stands, muddled by a thousand different smells, a thousand different bodies leaving ghosts of themselves behind.

Black shadows spilled from Fi's chest and clung like spiderwebs to her flesh.

Grigor blinked.

"Aside from stray Dark wizards ruining sporting events, how has your time been here?"

Fi snorted. "The school's barmy," she muttered, though Grigor heard the fondness in her voice, the warm inflection of her words. "Utterly mad. An adult tries to curse a child off his broom, the Potions Master and I were set on fire, someone let a great bloody troll in on Samhain, three first years bludgeoned it half to death, and the castle can't seem to decide if it wants to lead me to my office or abandon me in a oubliette."

His lips twitched. "Surely there isn't an oubliette."

"There is. I found one in the dungeons. They seem to go on forever, my fanged friend, just floor after floor of black stone and dripping water."

"It is proving a good...distraction though, is it not?"

Fi shifted and casted her eyes toward the black peaks of the forest's trees. "Yes. I care about them, the students, the staff. I...I never thought I'd enjoy teaching as much as I do, not after...not after Mira." Grigor flinched as the wind seemed to grow colder and an uncharacteristic look of maudlin introspection arrested Delphinia's features. He blinked again, and the look was gone, a light smile taking its place. "It's quite fun, though I miss my magic something fierce. Where did you get that wand you gave me? The damn thing can't decide between shooting sparks or toadstools half the time."