The class Abigail leads you to is a few corridors down from the cafeteria, which Abigail seems to think is a good thing, even if that means missing out on the opportunity to make friends.

Still, if she wants to be all dutiful and get to Professor Clearwater’s class early, then that’s fine by you.

You’re the first ones there except for the professor. The woman looks up as you enter and gestures at all of the desks laid out in neat rows with a pen. “Pick any seat,” she says before returning to her work. The professor’s desk is the biggest and neatest one, but you’re pretty sure that ‘any seat’ doesn’t include the one she’s sitting at.

Abigail pulls you to a seat at the far back and plops you down on the seat nearest the wall before taking the one next to you. It’s not the nicest place. From where you are no one in class will be able to see you.

“Just, ah, please be quiet during class, okay Dreamer?” Abigail asks. She smiled wobbly at you and placed her hand on your head. “Please?”

Well, if she’s going to ask like that. “Okay, I can do that,” you agree.

You grip the edges of your seat and begin kicking out your legs in time with the music in your head while hoping that it won’t take too long for class to start.

Fortunately, a distraction happens!

A girl walks into the class, bundle of books under one arm and pen tucked over her ear. She scans the room until her bright green eyes lock onto Abigail and you, then turns to walk your way. “Is this seat taken?” she asks as she gestures at the seat next to Abigail.

Your summoner looks at all of the other empty seats, then up to the still-smiling girl. “Uh, no, it isn’t,” Abigail says.

“Brilliant. I’m Pembrooke, Charlotte Pembrooke.” She runs her fingers through thick, thick blond hair, then settles down next to Abigail and extends a hand to her. “I heard what your familiar said in the lunchroom.”

“Oh no,” Abigail says.

Charlotte’s smile doesn’t change at all. “I thought it was a wonderful approach. I was never one for beating around the bush. If you want something ask for it. And if that thing is friends, then why not ask for those too.”

You nod. This Charlotte girl is very wise.

“It was mortifying,” Abigail says.

“Perhaps, but it worked,” Charlotte says. “I’ll be your friend if you’ll have me. Or at least... hmm, let’s call it a probationary friendship until we see if we get along.”

“Oh... oh.” Abigail says. “Um, I mean, sure.”

Charlotte’s smile widens just a little. “Brilliant. So, probationary friend, what’s your name?”

“I’m being so impolite,” Abigail says before hiding her face in her hands again. “I’m sorry. I’m Abigail, Abigail Normal.”

You blink and spin to stare at Abigail. “Your name is Abigail Normal? Like what we are?”

Abigail gestures at you. “This is my familiar, Dreamer.”

“Dreamer Normal!” you say.

Abigail smiles a little and pats you on the head. “I guess so,” she says.

“Your very articulate, Dreamer,” Charlotte says. “There are few Familiars who can speak so clearly, though most can communicate to some degree. Abigail must be very proud of you.”

You decide that Charlotte is good friend material.

Professor Clearwater stands up at the front of the class and for the first time you notice that just about every seat is filled already. She moves to the large blackboard that takes up one wall and begins drawing circles, triangles and other shapes into it with quick swipes of her hand.

The class fills up just a little more and then a bell rings.

The professor turns to see her class and nods. “Greetings everyone. Before I begin, can everyone hear me clearly?” There’s a chorus of ‘yeses’ and lots of cone hats bobbing forwards and back. “Good. Then we shall begin this lesson the way most of your lessons start. By immediately getting to the meat.”

She gestures to the symbols and glyphs behind her.

“These are the basic circle forms used in the modern day, though there are many, many more. You’ll want to take notes from here on out.”

With that hint dropped, all the students that don’t have notebooks out already start scrounging around for one. Abigail of course has you, and you have Abigail’s stuff, so you poke a hole in the world under the desk and plop her notebook and pen onto your lap then tentacle them over.

“Good. This class will teach you the basic inscription forms that nearly all magical circles use, but more importantly it will teach you the steps needed to describe those forms. We will also touch on the history of ritualistic magic and how to prepare for different sorts of rituals. By mid year you will be tested on your ability to prepare different materials for inscription, how familiar you are with various forms and their uses and how prepared you are to conduct a basic ritual.

“This is the class that will teach you how to prepare to do magic, not the one that will teach you the magic itself. If you think for a moment that this knowledge is not as important then I would direct you to the magical anomalies ward of the Inquisition.

“A misplaced grain of sand. Poorly diluted ink. A crack in a piece of wood. A catalyst that escapes its containment. The tiniest variable can change a simple spell into an undirected weapon, one that can and will take your head off your shoulders, age you prematurely or liquefy your bones.” The Professor stares across the room, her hands folded at the small of her back.

“Magic is the manipulation of the building blocks of reality in order to accomplish a task. Without care and precision the same blocks that allow humanity to stand head and shoulders above other creatures crumble. I intend to teach you how not to end your own lives.” She smiles wider. “Do try to pay attention.”