Demons, Witches, and Toads (BoyxBoy)

Things Get Worse

Milton Slengeborn had seen many promising magicians in his time as head of the academy's magical entrance exams. The boy that had just entered was most certainly not one of them—and he'd yet to even utter a single word.

The boy was rather small, a mat of wild brown curls spilling out from beneath his hat. His clothing choice was...peculiar to say the least. Beneath a half buttoned vest a crumpled shirt was tucked into a pair of orange and green striped trousers, puffing out right above his bruised knees.

"What's your name?" Milton asked dryly.

The other examiners were quiet beside him, watching the boy intently.

"Wheeler Trevil, sir!" The boy exclaimed, a cheerful expression on his freckle-dusted face.

"Age?"

"Seventeen."

"And you're from...?"

"The northern countryside." He grinned as he said it, revealing a small gap between his two front teeth.

"The northern countryside," Milton repeated slowly. Ah, so this boy was a country bumpkin. That explained a lot.

"Have you ever been?" Wheeler asked excitedly.

"No." And with any luck he'd never have to. Milton had never been one to willingly seek out the company of farm animals and peasants.

This exam would likely be a short one.

Most applicants to the academy were from the city, trained in magic from a young age. Milton doubted the countryside cattle had much to teach this boy.

"The exam will be simple," Milton said now. "We'll give you three spells which you will then proceed to cast."

The boy froze, his face paling slightly. "Wait...I actually have to cast spells?"

Was this kid an idiot?

"Yes...this is a magic exam. That's the whole point."

"Oh," Wheeler said slowly. "I thought this was just to measure our ability or something."

"Yes, it is. That's why we need you to actually cast a spell."

"But no one ever taught me any spells," Wheeler blurted, beginning to fidget anxiously in place.

It was taking everything in Milton's power not to jump over the table separating him from this kid and just drag him out right then and there. Instead however, he simply let out a heavy sigh, adjusting his spectacles.

"Just try it. If you indeed have magical abilities, these spells are easy enough that even an amateur should be able to perform them."

"Okay," Wheeler said, swallowing hard.

An awkward silence followed.

"You need to remove your wand to actually cast a spell, Mister Trevil," Milton muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Or do you lack that as well?"

"Oh, right!" Wheeler stammered. "Yeah! I have a wand, just give me a second."

He quickly stuck his hand into the worn leather bag he carried, swung over on one shoulder. Wheeler fumbled around inside for a moment before finally removing the saddest twig of a wand Milton had ever seen.

Milton sighed again. "Alright, we'll start simple. All you need to do is make a small gust of wind. Just say the word əˈpiər and picture the wind blowing in your head while moving your wand in a circle. Once you learn to perfect a spell you may be able to cast it without a verbal command but..." his gaze flickered over Wheeler. "I highly doubt that will be the case here."

Wheeler took a deep breath, scrunching up his face into a determined expression. "Alright! You've got it sir. One gust of wind coming right up!" He squeezed his eyes shut before swinging his wand in a fast circular motion shouting, "əˈpiər!"

He yelled it so loudly his voice echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls, and then... nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

If anything the room's air felt even stiller than before.

"Well," Milton said with a nod, "I suppose that's that. You may see yourself out."

The boy's face instantly went ashen.

"Wait!" he stammered. "Give me another chance!"

"Mister Trevil, please--"

"Əˈpiər!" Wheeler blurted, frantically swinging his wand again. "Əˈpiər! Əˈpiər! Əˈpiər--"

"Mister Trevil," Milton, snapped, slowly rising to his feet. "That is enough." As he said the words an icy chill swept through the room. "You've taken the entrance exam and you have failed. You have no magical abilities whatsoever so please take your leave."

"Sir, I need to make it into the academy," Wheeler pleaded. His voice was strained, on the verge of tears. "Please...this means the world to me..."

"There's plenty of other occupations--"

"No, you don't understand! Becoming a powerful mage is the only way my father will ever notice me!" Wheeler continued to babble.

"And who exactly is your father?" Milton asked with a huff, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"The Grand Emperor!"

A stunned silence fell across the room at this declaration.

It was instantly shattered when Milton, along with the rest of the magical examiners, burst into wild laughter.

The room was filled with it, echoing about as Wheeler simply stood there, his shoulders beginning to tremble.

"You," Milton finally gasped between laughs, "the son of the Grand Emperor? That has to be the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

Tears were brimming in Wheeler's eyes. "I'm telling the truth. He doesn't know about me yet, but once I prove myself then--"

"Mister Trevil," Milton interrupted, "the only thing more obvious than the fact that you are most certainly not the Grand Emperor's son is your lack of magical abilities."

Tears had begun to stream down Wheeler's cheeks, somehow managing to make him look even more pathetic.

"Thank you for adding a bit of humor to my day," Milton continued with a smirk. "Examining so many promising students can get tiring, I had no idea I needed a laugh. Now please get out." And with that Milton removed a thin silver wand, giving it a single whisk. "Əˈpiər."

A harsh gust of wind rushed through the room. Wheeler tried to protest but his pleas were quickly drowned out by the wind, beginning to push him towards the door. The boy attempted to grab at the door frame but Milton simply gave his wand a second flick which easily blew him out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

The moment the door closed the wind immediately ceased, the air growing still once more.

Milton let out a low breath, finally sinking back down into his seat.

"Well, that was quite the ordeal," one of his co-examiners observed.

"Indeed," Milton agreed with a huff, adjusting his spectacles. "At least that's the last we'll ever be seeing of Wheeler Trevil."