Avis Blackthorn: Is Not an Evil Wizard! (23 page)

“Well, I thought I’d come here for a while
before we meet in class, seems you beat me to it.”

I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“You do know we don’t have lessons… it’s a
Riptide game. We will be making our way down as a form. Now, go and
get some breakfast.”

“Yes Sir,” I said nodding.

The door closed.

No class?

A Riptide game?

I sighed, this was not part of the plan.

Bummer.

I made sure I had some breakfast, even though
it felt like the croissant I was eating went down like dry
cardboard. I couldn’t eat. I was slightly hysterical. In just under
seventeen hours it was the end of the sign of Handen and the Book
of Names would disappear. My attempts at finding out where the door
was had failed and in my desperation I did a revealing Spell on a
cursed channeller. That had to be one of the more grim experiences
of my time here. Malakai knew what he was doing. If he killed Tina,
evidence would remain and talented Magisteers would piece the clues
together. Yet, by cursing her, no one could find out anything. I
scoffed down some boiled eggs and soldiers as best I could. There
wasn’t many people in here and those that were, worked away inside
their bubble or were asleep on the tables. Poor things. Robin came
in just as I was about to leave and stared at me with a glazed
look.

“You ok mate?” I said dreamily.

He didn’t say anything for a second, but then
blinked, shaking what was the best impression I’ve see of a zombie
away. “Yeah,” he said. “Er, food… class.”

Poor thing looked like baby troll, and I
should know, Dad keeps one in the dungeons at home. I helped Robin
pick out some breakfast and put it in a napkin for him to take up
to class. On the way he nibbled his iced bun with spider legs - he
didn’t seem to notice and muttered incoherent things about
sleep.

“Pick your feet up,” I said. He was dragging
his feet, which I hate. “I know you’re tired but there’s no
excuse.”

The bun seemed to perk him up a little, so
too did the hot cup of sugary tea. When we got to class, everyone
was sitting there ready with their Condor scarves and Riptide
banners and there was a general buzz of excitement about the first
Riptide League game of the season. I was jealous of how well slept
they looked. My plan was to get this over with as quickly as
possible and get back on with my plan.

“Who’s gonna win then?” announced Graham.
“Let’s do a gold bet.”

“Yeah I’m in on that,” said Simon. “I’ll bet
ya’ fifteen gold pieces that the Centaurs will beat the
Manticores.”

“You got yourself a deal!” said Graham.

“I hate Riptide,” said Ellen. “It’s so
violent.”

“Oh, you’re just basing your hatred on what
we endured at the start of the year,” said Jake, who’s English had
improved so much it was a shock to hear him speaking. “At least
we
are not playing.”

“Not until next year,” said Gret smiling
viciously.

“Yes well,” said Partington, sweeping into
the room. “We will get more practice before we play again. I will
not have another capitulation like we saw before. Right come
on.”

We traipsed out of the school and into the
grounds with the other forms. I now began recognising faces and
people from around the school. At the start of the year they kind
of mixed into one unrecognisable mass. But now, I could put a name
to the face, like Brian Gullet who was known as the brainiest kid
in our year. His tie colour seemed to change every week. I didn’t
know what level he was, but I didn’t see anyone else in our year
wearing a pastel purple tie.

Hunter was kind of known as the funny one,
along with Jamie Brown and Kenny McCarthy - those three were
hilarious together.

There was a bunch of kids who never spoke
too, and always looked depressed. I was glad I wasn’t their friend.
The main one, the miserablest, called himself John-Paul Hampton and
he just shrugged at everything.

There was the Riptide lot, including Joanna,
Gret and Jake, who along with Hannah Klide, Bernie Boppet and Jack
Zapper, had joined in with the upper years and played matches at
lunch and free time. To be honest, there were a lot of different
Riptide cliques - it was flipping popular, and they were all mega
excited about this game. Some of them were wearing horse’s hooves
and waving a gold Centaur flag for their friends in the Centaur’s
form. Others were supporting their friends in Manticore, with red
flags and this weird looking lion, man, scorpion thing emblazoned
on it.

I recognised a lot more Magisteers now as
well. Straker had a reputation, some loved him, most hated him.
Whereas Partington was known as a bit of a loveable leftie. There
was Magisteer Underwood, who arranged all the Riptide games, she
was the Magisteer of Magical Creatures. We had her in third year
apparently and she looked nice enough, with her long patchwork
brown robes and bright blue hair. Magisteer Commonside taught
Numerology and Magisteer Yearlove taught Spell-craft, which is the
forging of Spells. He was a charismatic man, tall and muscular and
very good looking — with dark eyes like a wolf-raptor, black hair
and a thick black beard. He always seemed to have a small gaggle of
girls following him.

I was so tired I felt like I was in some
strange dream. I thought about running back to the castle to save
Tina. But, there was simply no way out of this. The Magisteers and
sixth years, walked alongside the crowd, down the hill to the
stadium. They would spot someone instantly if they tried to bunk
off. I couldn’t believe I was being dragged off to watch a Riptide
game when I could have been searching the school for the door. It
was incredibly frustrating.

The stadium was… rickety. I hadn’t noticed
that before and it made me nervous because we were quite high up.
No doubt a lot of Magic had been used to keep it in place. Wizard
builders always did a bit of bodge job, just patching anything up
with Magic. Never trust one. My parents always get Outsiders, and
just wipe their memories afterwards. We stood about ten rows up,
coming out of the long wooden stairway and finding a spare row near
these moody third years. The Magisteers were all standing together
across the stadium from us, on this kind of extended wooden plinth.
Simon and Graham were going over stats next to me, Dawn ordered
three ice creams from some poor ghost who was dressed up as an ice
cream girl and Jake and Gret debated tactics. Now the stadium was
full. The atmosphere, noise, and buzz of excitement was
exhilarating and soon enough I found myself pulled into the
spectacle.

The Manticores came out first as this little
leaflet popped up in front of us detailing the team and
information. They were in the fifth year, wore red shirts and black
robes and were an awkward bunch, some looked mean and up for the
fight, whereas a few others looked rather nerdy and scared. They
made their way onto the pitch to face Magisteer Underwood.

Then the Centaurs walked out, dressed all in
shimmering gold, the crowd roared, as the stadium lit up with
golden flags.

“They’re the Champions from last year!”
called this excited boy behind me. “I want them to win…”

“Pah,” said his friend. “You’re just a
plastic fan. You choose whatever team wins so you can share in the
glory.”

“Not so, I said a couple of years ago my
allegiance was with them.”

“What before they won anything? Whatever,”
said the snooty one.

Straker stood out of his chair as the
Centaurs took their place and they all saluted him. What was that
about?

“He was their tutor last year,” said Robin.
“Straker never stops banging on about it.”

Underwood suddenly cried aloud. “Take your
positions. As we let the habitat change!” Their was a fizzing sound
as the green grass faded away and blinding white light lit up the
pitch. Replaced with rising mud mounds, thick green bushes, and a
couple of very large oak trees. The crowd
Ooooed
. I felt
really nervous for some reason, perhaps I was remembering what I
felt when I stood there, awaiting the flounders to be released, not
having a clue what I was doing. There was just time while they
prepared to look at the leaflet.

The Centaurs are last year’s Champions.
They won the league by 7 points, and the ‘R Cup’ comprehensively.
Their top scorer was Marshall Compton-Campbell -
A graphic of a
mean looking boy whom I was sure I’d seen before, swivelled on the
page.
Flanked by the leading assist scorers of the season Gemma
Icke, and Jenson Zhu.
Another two graphics of a pretty girl,
slim and slender, and a small Chinese boy swivelled round. I
pointed them out to Robin on the pitch. They were really warming up
hard, led by their team captain, this huge girl about five times
the size of me and as many wide - who then proceeded to take her
place next to the fountain.
The Manticores have never won a
league title in the whole history of Hailing Hall, but their form
Tutor Magisteer Commonside is confident that this is the year that
fortunes can change: “The numbers are in our favour for certain.”
He said when quizzed. Their top scorer is Hayden Carmichael with
four, and in last season’s campaign they managed one
Libero-Manus…

“Whats a Libero-Manus?” I said confused.

The boy behind me spluttered. “You don’t know
what a Libero-Manus is?” He had a cocky look to him and looked to
be in the fourth year with his yellow robes. His friend frowned at
him, obviously used to his annoying nature.

“It’s when one team gets all of the other
team in the air,” he said as if it was obvious.

“Ah I see,” I said curtly. “Thank you.”

I read on.

Whereas the Centaurs managed a total of
seventeen Libero-Manuses throughout the season. The odds are firmly
stacked against the Manticore’s in today’s game.

Graham looked as sick as a dog after reading
the leaflet and Simon was grinning broadly and relaying what he
could buy with fifteen gold pieces.

The Centaurs new Magisteer and coach is
Oliver Trunwood, Magisteer of Magical Illusion, but a keen coach
who has led six forms to glory in his thirty three years at Hailing
Hall.

“Your balls will appear in your bold hole in
five… four… three…”

The whistle blew and off they went as a great
roar erupted from the crowd. Suddenly they were off in a great rush
of light and noise. Spells instantly whizzed up all around as three
of the Manticores shot up into the air and flew back to their
bench. The Centaurs’ blue flounder soared across the pitch where a
flying Marshall Compton-Campbell caught it and slammed it into an
unguarded bolt hole.

“ONE-NIL!” cried Underwood, whose voice was
magically increased and carried across the stadium. One Manticore
hid behind one of the Oak trees with the red ball, but was
immediately surrounded by five gold shirts. He managed to Spell one
into the air, but immediately found himself in the same
predicament, dropping the red founder, which was now sailing across
the pitch to Jenson Zhu, who kicking off a mud hill, Spelled the
ball to his teammate Gemma. She caught the ball jumping over two
Manticore players, Spelling them in mid air with her left hand
while freezing the ground with her right. The oncoming Manticores
slipped and sprawled across the ice. Gemma, with incredible
agility, chucked the ball through her legs in mid air to Marshall,
who Spelled a Manticore into the air and tossed the ball into the
bolt hole.

So this was how Riptide was meant to be
played!

The Manticores didn’t stand a chance. The
Centaurs were just too good. Their captain was barking orders
continuously and soon enough a loud “LIBERO-MANUS!” rang true
across the stadium. The crowd stood and applauded, but the Centaurs
didn’t hug or smile, they looked resolute and focused, their
captain calling out to them, “Four more games!”

The Second match, ten minutes later, was
played on this habitat like the Outsider’s
City of London
,
with all these garages, concrete roads and lampposts. It was very
interesting. I’d only ever seen London on TV. Robin said he didn’t
like London, he’d been there before with his family and managed to
get totally lost and no one could find him, so refused to ever go
back.

The Centaurs repeated their winning ways,
trampling the Manticores 5-1. The epic partnership of
Compton-Campbell, Zhu and Icke obliterated any reserves of
confidence the Manticores had. They did score however with “Herbert
Hanningshire!” being called out to a mute applause as he darted
round the back of the large Centaur captain and put the flounder in
the bolt hole. She immediately Spelled him, raising a wall of fire
all the way around him so he couldn’t move for the rest of the
game.

The third match and the Manticores put up a
much better fight. They became more physical. When Gemma Icke was
in mid air, one Manticore turned her boots to lead and she
plummeted to the floor, slamming her face into a wooden bridge, and
they still lost 3-2. The large Centaur captain was sent off by
Underwood for:

“An illegal Spell!” She had set a swarm of
Wasperats on three of the Manticore forwards and the game had to be
stopped temporally while they were removed.

Half way through the fourth match, me and
Robin were sharing a box of
Sweet Newt Eye Popcorn
. I
decided I really liked the Centaurs. Some people around the stadium
were moving seats, so I didn’t take much notice when someone new
stood next to me.

When I turned and glanced to see who it was,
I nearly dropped the popcorn. David Starlight was looking grim,
wrapped in a purple scarf and watching the game. He sidled closer
to me.

“Hey Avis,” he said. I didn’t know what to
do, what did he want? Was he going to put a Spell on me and
embarrass me in front of the whole school again? “I just need to
tell you something.”