I wonder what happened to that girl. It’s been four years, did she ever learn how to dance again?
“Zander! There’s a man here asking to see you!” The words broke Alekzander out of his thoughts.
“Coming, Zoran!” He called, attempting to leave and slipping on one of the many piles of books heaped around his room. “Ouch!”
When he finally reached the front door, Alekzander was surprised to see his history teacher, Mr. Zakowski, standing just outside with an envelope in his hands. “Oh, good morning, Mr. Zakowski. What brings you here?”
Mr. Zakowski smiled. “I’ve brought an acceptance letter,” he announced. Sensing Alekzander’s confusion, he chuckled and continued, “I know you’re surprised because you didn’t apply yet, but Aurum doesn’t take applications anyway. The professors and headmistress hand-pick the students with the help of a few special spells specifically designed for choosing new students. Here.” Mr. Zakowski passed Alekznader the envelope, which turned golden the moment it touched his hand.
“Oooh, open it, Zander, open it!” Zoran’s excitement was contagious. “The envelope’s so pretty!”
Almost smiling at his eight-year-old brother’s antics, Alekzander tugged open the seal, admitting privately that the golden scrollwork was quite beautiful. At Zoran’s request, he read the letter out loud, almost frowning when it occurred to him how informal the language was. He asked Mr. Zakowski about it.
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Mr. Zakowski nodded. “Aurum doesn’t believe in formalities anywhere near as much as many private schools and magic academies. They’re particularly hard on bullying, and if anyone attempts to bully or pressure you into something you don’t want, they’ll no doubt defend you, though they’ll expect you to make an effort first. They won’t coddle or shelter their students, but they do attempt to ensure that everyone leaves in the same or better condition than they entered.” Alekzander thought privately that the whole speech sounded rather practiced, but he kept it to himself.
Just then, their father stuck his head over the upstairs railing. “Boys? Is there a visitor?” He asked, sounding tired.
Before Alekzander could think to quiet his brother, Zoran called back, “It’s just Zander’s history teacher here with an acceptance letter to some fancy-sounding place called Aurum. I wish I could go, it sounds like fun.”
Mr. Joseph Argent was a stern but reasonable man, who cared for his children above all else, especially since the death of his wife. “I hope you go, Alekzi,” he said wearily. “I went, it’s where I met your mother. You should go. I think it will be good for you, and you have a chance of finding your mate, slim though the chance may be.”
Alekzander considered his father’s statement, carefully attempting to forget the last part. He had little desire to find his mate quite yet, but the school was well-known for being the best, and did respect his father’s opinion.
“What do I need to pack?”