Part 18: Wherein There Are And Might Be Consequences (Part 2).

Chapter 14: Wherein There Are And Might Be Consequences (Part 2).

‘Later’ apparently meant the next day, as I’m hurriedly approached right after classes by a happy-looking Donald with Luke in tow. “Hey there, you two,” I say calmly; sure, they might be trying to prank me, but if they were, I wouldn’t be able to defend myself anyway- might as well let this whole thing play through.

“Hey there, Mary! I’m here to repay you!” Donald grins. “Okay, so I heard you’re kinda in a bit of trouble, not a lot of merits and stuff, right? Well, how’d you like to earn some easy ones?”

“That sounds good,” I said, genuinely grateful. I wasn’t hurting for merits, but neither did I think I was safe in case Grabby got growly. “What’s the job?”

“Not much,” Luke piped up.



“I don’t think butching’s a word, dude,” Donald tells his friend.

“It so is!” Luke retorts. “It’s freakin’ English! You’re supposed to make up words and stuff to add to it!”

“Uh, guys?” I ask, raising my hand. “I’m losing the plot here- what are we doing?”

“He already said!” Donald smiles, pointing at his friend.

“...all right, but I’m leaving the butching to you two, if it’s all right,” I say slowly.



Professor Potsdam’s head pops up from underneath a cupboard, and she lifts a few small reagent bottles from a cupboard. “Oh, there you are~!” she says happily, seemingly not surprised by my addition to Donald’s team. “Please hold still a moment,” she says, pointing a glowing hand at us.



I look to Donald and Luke, and the same green tendrils are infusing their bodies as well. I wonder if they’re feeling the same thing I am- a slight rubberizing of the skin, though not enough to be restrictive or uncomfortable, along with a cool sensation that seems to hover just out of touch.

“There!” Potsdam says with an air of satisfaction. “That should improve your resistance to heat. That said, you can still burn yourself, so be careful. Especially you, Mr. Phiffer.”

“Yes ma’am,” Luke says sheepishly.

Hold up- burn myself?

“Now,” she adds, “here’s an instruction sheet with all the steps, including proportions for the dyes and fragrance oils.”

And not burning yourself, right? Because I distinctly heard ‘burning yourselves’, and I don’t think IKEA’s ever included stuff like that.

“Now,” Potsdam says, looking around. “Any questions?”

Yeah, about not burning ourselves-

“We’re cool, no problem,” Donald says nonchalantly. Yeah, uh, I think burning ourselves is anything but cool.

“All right then!” Potsdam says cheerfully. “I’ll leave you all to it then, but don’t worry, I’ll be back soon to check in on you all! I just need to handle a few things. I might even bring my knitting!”

I hope you’re knitting gauze, lady.

Potsdam then walks out, leaving me with two boys who obviously “haven’t told me anything about this project of yours,” I scowl. “At least I can dispel magical fire!”

“Hey, don’t worry!” Donald laughs. “It’s no biggie- we’re just making candles for one of the school’s fundraisers- some of the stuff we make here is sold at the mall or through the Internet.”

“I thought magical stuff wasn’t allowed outside the school,” I say, remembering my little experience with the bunny. Even though this is Potsdam we’re talking about, she doesn’t seem like a hypocrite. A smiling loon, maybe- but not a hypocrite.

“Magic spells and half-humans going out without illusions aren’t,” Luke nods. “And the more obvious magical stuff like flying carpets are also banned, but we’re making scented candles here. As long as the end product’s not magical, it’s perfectly all right!”

“Ah, right then, I get it,” I reply, before turning to Donald. “How’d you get this assignment? I hardly heard of it!”

“Potsdam gave it to me,” he says blithely. “What can I say, she loves me.”

“Yeeeah, maybe I don’t want to think about the implications there too much,” I laugh. “So, how do we make these candles then?”



“You can run the wax, and I’ll use a little Sealing magic on them,” Luke finishes.

“Yeah, uh, hold up there,” I say hastily. “What was that about ‘exploding’? Because I’m fairly sure that’s important. Like my hands. And head. You know, things that explosions usually displace.”

“Don’t worry, Mary!” Donald grins. “There’ll be plenty of warning before anything like that happens. Besides, Potsdam’s fireproofing is enough to keep us from the worst stuff.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” I say hesitantly as I head to the stove. “You seem to know a lot about this- you interested in candle-making or something?”

“Not at all!” Donald snorts, holding up the pamphlet. “That’s what the instructions say. Anyway, just melt down the wax chunks all the way, then you add in the oil and dye and stir with a wooden spoon. Luke will cast Seal on the mixture to make sure everything’s worked in well.”

“You said nothing about what you are going to do,” I point out.

“I’ve got the hardest part,” he winks. “Just fill, oh, say 10 molds, and you’ll see.”

After working together, Luke and I fill a few candle molds, and Donald nods approvingly. “Now stand back,” he says. “Here I go!”



I move to ask Donald what’s happening, but Luke holds me back. “Hold on, you’re going to break his concentration,” he says.

I turn back to Donald, and I can feel the truth of Luke’s statement. Donald’s still deep in concentration, and sweat is beading on his forehead. I have to admit, it’s kind of impressive- so far, the only magic I know is a bunch of split-second stuff, nothing like the extended spellcasting Donald’s doing. I wonder if it’s just a spell I don’t know yet, or if it’s Donald’s style, like how all that brain power he normally uses for planning pranks ‘translates’ into slow-burning casting. First chance I get, I think I’ll ask Grabby about it.

After a minute, he relaxes. Though he’s got a thin sheen of sweat on him, he doesn’t seem tired in the least. “There we go! You can cut off the ends now.”

As I and Luke go to do so, I marvel at what I see inside. Not only has the wax cooled, but it has shrunk away from the sides completely evenly.



“Was that in the instructions too?” I ask, marveling at the well-formed candle.

“Well, uh...” Donald says sheepishly. “I might have done a little reading on the subject myself- but don’t tell Urchin or William!” he says quickly. “I have a reputation to keep!”

“If you say so,” I grin back. “That said, did you have to go through all that? Couldn’t you just Shape the wax around the wick?”

“No can do,” Luke says. “We tried that, and it takes a lot of control. The candle just wouldn’t bend right, and my idea for ‘Pre-Melted Candles’ didn’t pan out,” he frowns.

And with that, we get back to candle making. It’s easy, but between repeating the steps for hours, and keeping Donald hydrated, it’s a lot of work. That said, we all got ten merits from Professor Potsdam once we were done, and better yet, all those hours spent repeating the same thing over and over again let me observe Luke in motion- or rather, his hands and control of Black Magic in motion!



I think this is one of the game’s better scenes; before hand, we only knew Donald as some childish prankster, and we only had the word of Professor Potsdam and William to bear that out, and in a lesser game, that would be enough. Here, we see that Donald’s no spellcasting slouch himself, and depending on how you all vote, we might be able to see more of this side of him later on.

I also learned a bit about heat redirection from Donald’s own spell, though when I tried going over it later with Grabby, all I managed to do was gather a lot of heat in one place, and suddenly release it in one go. It was impressive, at least to me, but I didn’t understand why I could not manage Donald’s feat, though I duplicated Luke’s just fine.



I thought back to my own theory of how casters’ personalities factored into spellcasting, and asked Grabby about it later, after class. “An interesting conclusion, Miss Sue,” he replied, “and by some chance, quite correct. Perhaps I should invest in lottery tickets- or maybe a bomb shelter. Heaven knows this must be a sign of the coming apocalypse.”

He rises from his seat. “Yes, Miss Sue, personality does factor into it. Before I go on, tell me, how would you describe your natural spellcasting? We do teach standard methodology here in class, but off the record, such methods are quite inefficient on purpose, both to encourage students to seek their own path in the future, and to limit damage if accidents happen. How do YOU cast spells?”

I think back, way back, to when I spontaneously thought up my Teleport and Light spells. “I’m not sure how- I suppose the best way I can say it is that I gather up the magic all around me, ‘squeeze’ it into the shape I need, and then abracadabra.”

He nods. “And it just feels ‘right’ to you.”

“Yeah, it does,” I admit quietly. It wasn’t even a question, just stating something we both knew.

He then extends his arm to a flower in a long, thin vase. “Miss Sue, please observe how I cast my own magic, and contrast it to yours.”

It’s... very different, I’ll give it that. Instead of drawing magic from around him, he just creates a small packet of energy at his fingertips, which then unfolds like some kind of box into a ready-made spell, in this case, an illusion spell. When it reaches the flower, it ‘reboxes’ itself around the flower, as if someone placed a crate with the illusion expertly drawn over it on top of the flower.

“Try dispelling it,” he commands, but despite my best efforts, only my Disruption manages to break the illusion, shattering the magical field like a hammer shattering a window. “Remember when you thought up your Teleport spell? How I said that magic has a life of its own?” he says quietly. “There is yet more proof of that; it works in its own way to make itself accommodate its users. You’re not a very patient woman, Miss Sue, but you are also adaptive, and that shows up in your magic- you simply take what you have to work with, and bodge it together until something clicks. I prefer more controlled practices- as such, I simply take in what magic I need, and extrude it through a few mental templates I have devised for myself.”

“So... you basically package magic, and unpack it when you need?” I ask.

“That would be a layman’s description, yes,” he sniffs. “The problem is, of course, that a normal human soul cannot hold raw magic for an extended period of time; it needs to be focused, refined, distilled and purified before it may be stored such. Also, not all spells allow for such release, but some others require it, hence a wizard’s repertoire may differ depending on their personalities. Oh, they might have theoretical knowledge of other spells, but casting those is so much effort as makes no difference.”

He sighs. "It also means that should I run out of magical reserves, I am essentially powerless, though I daresay I'll give a good showing of myself beforehand," he says. "You would be all right after a short rest to recuperate and catch your breath- I would need a few hours of concentrated meditation to regain my own power."

“So it's like mana in video games,” I nod, and he scowls; I ignore him. “So I guess that’s why Donald’s spells are so, well, slow.” I consider for a moment. “Wonder what that says about Potsdam’s magic, though,” I muse.

“She cast a spell on you? Describe how it was like to me,” Grabiner says, though by the look on his face, he already knows the answer- and he doesn’t like it.

“It was a heat resistance spell or some such, and well... it was like it got into, or maybe under your skin,” I said. I might have said more, but the haunted look on Grabiner’s face was enough to make me trail off.

“I...” he says, “I think that should be enough warning that Petunia isn’t the nice, doddering old fool who she seems to be,” he says quietly, before giving me a thin smile. “I don’t like her or the subjects she teaches much, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Yeah,” I say uneasily, “I gathered as much back during the Dark Dance. You said that you were going to quit if she made you teach White Magic, for one.”

He snorts. “So you were conscious? No matter. The truth is, Miss Sue, is that White Magic is the perfect fit for that serpent. It seems innocent, down to the name, but oh, oh so terrible once you scratch its veneer.”

He gives me a steely look. “Consider Red and Blue Magic. Even at their most fundamental, they focus external forces upon an object. Blue Magic may hide that flower under the illusion of an apple, and Red Magic may break its vase, but when you get right down to it, the flower is still a flower and a broken vase is still a vase. That’s why I teach those two schools- because for all that they hide and destroy, they are honest, for lack of a better word, in what they do. Now, can you tell me why I abhor the other branches, Miss Sue?”

I glance to the side, a sickening feeling rising in the pit of my gut. “They... they change things, don’t they? And not necessarily in a good way, either.”

“Go on,” Grabiner nods. “I will not accept a two-sentence answer on my tests, and I will not accept one now.”

“Well, Green Magic’s the most obvious, since it can do things like make you grow stronger, or maybe accelerate cancer growth if you’re feeling really nasty, but you can’t make all those enchantments permanent without Black Magic,” I begin, remembering my early lectures. “And once you do that, there’s not a lot anyone can do to change things back, except with a lot of Blue Magic.”

Grabiner nods approvingly. “True; it’s normally said that it is easier to destroy than create, but in magic’s case, this might not always be true. That said, there are a lot of uses for those two magics, many of which have made our current society possible.”

“It’s White Magic that you hate the most,” I say, seeing the look in his eyes. “Because- because it contains elements of mind control.”

“Not just elements,” he says darkly. “The very components that make it possible to overcome the communication barriers between creatures of this world and the Otherworld, also make it trivial to overcome our mental defences. Powerful White Wizards would be able to sway any audience, both from this world and the Otherworld, into thinking whatever they wanted the masses to think. In bygone ages, White Wizards would extol their own virtues, while making sure that their opponents were vilified every chance they got. Why do you think White Magic is still seen as a good thing by the mortal world, and Black Magic evil, despite the former being more insidious than the latter? Where did the colours of 'White' and 'Black' gain their connotations from in the first place? There is your answer. And Petunia, curse her, she enjoys teaching White Magic, unholy though it is.”

He sighs. “I will not restrict whatever path of learning you choose, else I would prove just as bad as those wizards- but I do ask that you exercise a great deal of caution and responsibility with White Magic, and with Petunia.”

I take a big gulp. “I’ll try.”

“You will,” he says sternly. “Trying is not good enough.” He slumps back into his seat. “You are dismissed. I suppose you have a lot to think on, anyway.”

And that I did. Friday does nothing to keep it away from my mind.

Holy shit, that’s a lot of Again, sorry for all the fanfiction- and it is fanfiction. The conversation doesn’t occur anywhere in the game that I can remember, and I simply extrapolated the characters’ reactions and opinions based on other occurrences in their plotlines. Sorry about that/



Ellen and I present our tickets, and we sit down to watch a thoroughly tragic retelling of Medea’s tale, from her helping Jason retrieve the Fleece, to Jason’s abandoning her for a political marriage. The special effects are great, especially as magical study, and I definitely wouldn’t want to see the Club perform Titus Andronicus any time soon.

Seriously- I once heard Titus Andronicus described as ‘Tarantino and Peckinpah meet Shakespeare’, and that is a very, very apt description.



“Isn’t that Shakespeare?” I ask. In my mind, anything that sounds vaguely wise and English is Shakespeare.

“No, it was someone else,” Ellen says. “Cosgrove, I think- from The Mourning Bride.”

“Let me guess,” I ask, “another story of murder and revenge?”

“Kind of- it’s complicated,” Ellen replies. “Let me see if I can remember the details...”







Why are you so into this kind of stuff, Ellen? Isn’t Potsdam enough?!

“I guess the moral is that revenge is dangerous,” Ellen finishes.

“Or maybe ‘you shouldn’t change your mind’,” I tell her.

“Maybe,” Ellen laughs. “All I know is that even if anyone treated me the same way Jason treated Medea, I would never act the same way. How about you, Mary?” she asks. “What if someone you loved betrayed you?”

I consider for a moment...



And there you have this belated update, goons! This is actually a really pivotal moment in Mary’s development (for now at least ), so it’s obviously a decision I should leave to the Internet hordes! Basically, the tl;dr is what Mary would do if she were betrayed?

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Voting ends in at 0000 GMT, September 3rd 2012!