Witchhazel Academy

Prologue

Rustic, golden gates swung open to reveal a dilapidated, yet stunning, structure erect off the ground. Verdant shrubs and trees lined the academy beautifully, harmless sparrows and lovebirds soaring in the sky with chirps of purity. Vines spiraled up onto the highest of spires as the towers glinted in the abundant sunshine, a lazy stream gurgling nearby. Archways with twirling roses circling them marked each entrance as moss embellished the roof tiles and walls. The windows, narrow and triangular, were carved into those intimidating towers. 

Archaic gray brick accumulated into another tower beyond, a single window etched out from the slate, as a reinforced bridge connected the vast castle to it. Hallways with magnificently engraved pillars decorated the lunch area, a gigantic oak tree in the center of it all. Squirrels squeaked at one another as they chased each other all over its aging bark. Elegant mosaics of different hued glass cast down a beauteous spectrum on the grass as the breeze combed through the blades. Leaves swirled down upon the earth, later being crunched beneath the soles of several different students. Some tall and flimsy, some short and stubby. Long hair, short hair, all in different colors. Clutched in their grips were their schedules. Carried within their bags were their books. A group of girls giggled cheerfully, racing to the front of the line as a few others grunted distastefully at their childish behavior. A mesmerizing, yet towering girl shoved the hat off of the other, her comrades snickering. "What the hell, Zephyr!", the girl shouted, snatching her family heirloom, a stitched witch's hat, before plunging it down on her head. The other girl, Zephyr, twitched her pointy ears, "It was just a friendly gesture. You look hideous in that thing." "Tell that to my flock. They'll appreciate a slobbering beast telling them their hats are hideous." Zephyr was unfazed. Instead, she cracked a small side smile. "Sit with us at the scheduled Dinner after Orientation?", she beamed. The little witch furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, however she couldn't refuse. "Sure."

"Great. See you later, Lavina.", she smiled, leading away with the two other girls glaring at Lavina. Composing herself, she hurried away into the school's premises, eyes widening in excitement at the magnanimous structures in front of her. An intercom screeched as a loud, powerful female voice resonated throughout the school. "Greetings, newbies! Today is the day where you kiss your families goodbye and head under the wings of inexperienced witches who're capable of killing you and making it look accidental!" Everyone exchanged fearful glances with each other, some even stepping backwards, however the speaker began to laugh and say, "I kid. I kid. There will be centaurs showing you to your-" Another voice began arguing with the announcer. "Fine fine!", the announcer grumbled. "Follow the centaurs to the archway with white roses. That'll lead you to the auditorium." A click sounded and the voice was gone. The centaurs she'd promised arrived, smiling with warmth, their large hooves stamping on the ground. They spoke to each other in a language that was highly confusing to the students as they sauntered together towards a large cracked archway. Passing through the doors, the dirt floor was littered with pews dangling with lilies, tulips, and roses. Grass clumped on in the corners of the stage as the faculty for the academy took their seats, waiting for the girls to file in with smiles of amiability. Once they were all settled, a woman in a high-necked black gown stepped forward, her lengthy black hair chopped off at the ends as it hung limply at her waist. She cleared her throat, dead, beady eyes gleaming in the light.

"Welcome students from all over,", she began, her voice surprisingly sounding youthful and powerful, "to Witchhazel Academy. A place in which your studies allow you to fulfill your dreams of being a potent witch..." A group of girls sneered mischievously. "...or a ghastly beast of the night." Zephyr, between the two girls, pricked her head up. "I am Lady Wrathmore, I am the founder of this academy, and I plan to stay as the Headmistress for as long as I roam this earth. Staff will introduce themselves later on, once I've finished going over standard requirements, uniform policy, codes of conduct, and punishments." Torches emitting a brilliancy of blue-green flames lit alight, the room now dim with an ominous oceanic incandescence. The centaurs lined the walls respectfully, their tails swaying behind them, as fairies jingled down the pews, handing snacks and beverages to the students struggling to keep their eyes open. Lavina glanced at Wrathmore in admiration, the way her salubrious, yet dead, hair gleamed in the luminescence. The way her voice held utmost dominance and authority. Even the way her rat eyes glanced across the students. No one had yet to question her leadership as she continued, casually rolling her eyes at a group of witches disregarding her. A woman with strikingly red hair eyed the rows of pews with boredom, her fingers fumbling with the stack of index cards in her palms. Lavina glanced at the girl next to her, nose dug inside a book that read Spells, Potions, and Recipes (includes how to properly boil flesh from bone!) She furrowed her eyes, gagging at the thought of bone magic, before the girl glared up at her. Her irises were crimson-brown, with flecks of green and yellow entwined with themselves. She felt intrigued, transfixed by her eyes, before noticing the horrendous rat's nest for hair.

A tangle of black locks looked forcibly brushed as they slid down her face. Her face, which was pale and gaunt, held prominent cheekbones and blackness around the eyes. The eyes, which were staring right at her in irritation. "Yes?", she asked, tone as cold as frost. "Nothing.", she turned away. "But-", she sighed, "Nevermind." The girl shrugged and looked back into her book, her black dress covered with stitches and patches of gray, brown, and burgundy. She came from a poor family, a poor family of witches that couldn't use magic to gain? The other witch beside her was tapping a pointy shoe on the floor, her elongated black nails carving her initials into the wood.T.G. The witch caught her staring, her eyes a natural hazel with soft as satin locks of gold draping down her shoulders. She shrugged at Lavina, knitting her eyebrows together. "Uhhh...I'm Lavina Coveton.", she stammered. She snickered, "Nice try, I saw how you treated the other one next to you." Turning away, Lavina sulked through Wrathmore's entire informational speech. Next, it was the red-haired woman's turn, the torches on the wall turning a burning hue of vehemently crimson flames. Centaurs twitched in their spots, some murmuring to each other, as fairies sat in little nooks on the roof. "Good evening, students. I am Professor May. I teach young witches the History of Magic, as it is important to learn history so it doesn't repeat itself." The girl beside her perked her head at May as she continued, her scintillating yellow eyes captivating all in the room. A few more professors went, then the Dean of Discipline and the Dean of Students. The sky had already darkened, and the centaurs outside rushed to shut the gates. 

Lavina exited the auditorium, stretching her legs, as her stomach growled ferociously. 

Dinner was next.