Black and White and Blue

Prologue

Avalon Academy, Spring term, 2009

Cory Wychcombe stood near the back of the hall, spine straight, hands clasped in front of her pleated skirt. The familiar weight of assembly pressed down on her shoulders, hundreds of bodies in navy-blue uniforms packed into the space, the air thick with teenage restlessness and the lingering scent of floor polish.

She shouldn't keep looking. She knew that.

But her gaze drifted forward again anyway, finding the row ahead where auburn hair gleamed like spun copper in the light streaming through the high windows. Lizzy had plaited it today, the braid trailing down between her shoulder blades, but fine wisps had escaped at her temples and nape. They caught the morning sun, transformed into threads of gold and flame.

Cory's chest felt tight.

Madame Caluthrax took the lectern, and the hall fell silent. The elderly witch barely reached the top of the podium, but her presence commanded attention like a thunderclap. Her silver hair sat coiled tight against her skull, and her dark eyes swept across the assembled students with the predatory focus of a hawk.

"Good morning." Her voice carried without effort, sharp and precise. "We begin this week with our usual expectations. Punctuality. Diligence. Pride in our traditions."

Cory's attention wavered, pulled back to that gleaming braid. The way it shifted when Lizzy tilted her head slightly to the left. The curve of her neck above her collar.

Stop it.

She forced her gaze down to the polished floorboards, to the scuff mark near her left shoe, to anything except the one person she absolutely should not be watching.

"However." Madame Caluthrax's tone sharpened, and the word cut through Cory's distraction. "I have particular news regarding next Saturday. Avalon Academy will be honoured to host the Magister of the Righteous Foundation."

The reaction was immediate. The hall erupted in gasps and excited whispers that rolled through the crowd like wildfire. Several students in the front rows broke into spontaneous applause. Someone at the back of the boys' section let out a whoop that earned a sharp glance from Professor Scarthorpe, though even he wore a satisfied smile.

"He's actually coming here?" The whisper came from somewhere behind Cory, female voice cracking with excitement.

"I heard he never does school visits."

"My father met him once. Said it changed his life."

Cory kept her expression neutral, carefully constructed into what she hoped read as appropriate enthusiasm. She'd perfected this mask over years. The slight widening of eyes. The hint of a smile. Not too much, never too much. Enough to blend.

Around her, the fervour built. Girls clutched each other's arms, faces flushed with anticipation. Boys stood straighter, chests puffed. The energy in the hall shifted into something electric, almost religious in its intensity.

"Order." Madame Caluthrax's voice cracked like a whip. The noise subsided. "This excitement is natural and appropriate. However, it must not distract from your studies. The Magister will expect to see Avalon students at their best, demonstrating the excellence our institution is known for."

She paused, letting the weight of expectation settle.

"To that end, there will be nightly assemblies this week. Trailblazers for the boys, Witches League for the girls. Attendance is mandatory. We will ensure you are prepared to represent the values of Traditional Witchcraft and Wizardry when our distinguished visitor arrives."

More whispers, but controlled now. Excited rather than chaotic.

Cory's stomach tightened. Nightly meetings meant nightly performances. More hours spent nodding along to speeches about bloodline purity and magical heritage. More time pretending that the words didn't raise more questions than they answered, that she believed every syllable.