It's All Fun and Games Until the Beers are Thrown: Day 9, and 18,149 Words

Like many of you, week two of EsNoWriMo has hit me hard. It is hard to write for hours every single day without a break!

Today I ended up going backwards and writing more about Eliza and Nora to fill out their characters a little more. That stuff isn't particularly exciting, but has helped me to learn more about the two of them and think about the world through their eyes.

I also made up the Festival of Morgana, which is largely an imitation of Purim. The holiday takes place in the fall, and everyone wears costumes to commemorate the heroism of Morgana the High Priestess, who saved wizards from genocide in the 11th century. She did so while disguised as a servant in William the Conqueror's castle, hence, the costumes.

Eliza and Jeanette entered the great hall, with Eliza wearing her Morgana the High Priestess costume, which she wore every year to remind everyone about the reason for the season. She wore a long, light blue robe with intricate floral detailing along the wide sleeves. On her head she had placed a delicate gold crown, which was smartly paired with cascading waves in her hair. She had cast a spell to make her hair grow longer for the occasion. Why not show off the fact that she was the incantations professor, after all?

They were talking animatedly, as Jeanette was updating her friend on the tiresome day of lessons she had just finished, as the students had been particularly rowdy in preparation for the night’s festivities. Few had shown up anyway, as they had excused themselves in favour of putting the finishing touches on their costumes. Perhaps there was no use to trying to get students to work before the feast, anyway.

Jeanette looked stunningly beautiful in her Agnes Waterhouse costume, who was the first woman in England to be executed for witchcraft for the supposed “bewitching to death” of William Fynne. She wore a very modest floor-length black cotton dress and a bonnet that she somehow managed to make look incredibly chic. She also carried around a stuffed cat that she called Satan, as in her trial, Waterhouse had confessed to having a familiar, which was a cat named Satan. She received the cat from her grandmother, who supposedly taught her witchcraft as a child. Her trial, which had taken place in Chelmsford, was typical of English witchcraft in the absurdity of the charges and the emphasis upon the familiar. This trial resulted in the first punishments and executions for witchcraft in England, and also inspired the first of many pamphlets on both the subject of witchcraft and particular trials that constitute an important source for witchcraft beliefs.

Jeanette liked to wear this costume because she felt it was important to continually educate people on the ways in which women—none of whom were actually witches, as real witches could have used magic to prevent their discovery, trial, or execution—had been abused and murdered throughout history during these bouts of moral panic. While many wizards cared little for the ways in which Gentles had suffered throughout history due to fears of precisely what they were—minus the communication with Satan—Jeanette thought that it was her history, too, and one from which lessons should be learned.

In contrast to the Eliza and Jeanette’s costumes, the faculty table was populated with hags, dragons, and a scattering of famous witches and wizards throughout history. This was the magic of the Festival of Morgana—that the very serious Professor Glamourcratz was dressed up as a tiger.

Jeanette’s face lit up as they spotted Charles Charmfinkle, who was dressed as an oddly handsome ghost. He was unfortunately sitting with William Wandstein, who was of course not wearing a costume at all. If there was something fun going on, Eliza suspected, Wandstein would disapprove and not participate.

Eliza had of course told Jeanette everything that George had related to her about his unfortunate past with Wandstein. Jeanette had listened with horror, wondering how someone that Charles held in such high esteem could be such a bitter, unfeeling person. She wondered if there was another possible explanation for the turn of events that George had described, perhaps a misunderstanding. Eliza considered no such thing to be possible. Everything that she had observed of Wandstein—his dismissal of her after their first meeting, his curt and unpleasant nature during every meeting that followed—convinced her that the story could absolutely be true.

Jeanette sat down next to Charles, and as Eliza moved towards Jeanette’s left side, away from Wandstein, he did something entirely unexpected: he shifted to his right, making room for her beside him. Her mouth hung open for a moment, giving the always mischievous Professor Dragonblum the opportunity to magic a fly into her mouth. It was gross, but alas, she had to admit that it was a good joke.

She would have welcomed a hundred flies in her mouth instead of this seat next to Wandstein, but unfortunately, no one had made her an offer such as that one because it didn’t make any sense.

Eliza sat for a few minutes, with Wandstein saying nothing to her whatsoever. The table was laden with wine, cider, pies of all sorts, butternut squash, chicken, and gravies. She managed to distract herself for some time by enjoying the banquet in front of her, but she quickly grew tired of his silence. Why would he suggest that she sit beside him if he had intended to not speak to her?

“It’s a custom for people to exchange pleasantries while feasting,” Eliza said acidly. She wondered how Wandstein would respond, or if he even would since he perhaps had lost the ability to speak at all.

“What would you have me say?” he shot back in return.

“Perhaps you could comment on the appropriateness of everyone’s costumes. Or compliment the decorations.”

“Is it a rule for you, that people exchange such commentary during a feast?” he asked, expressionless.

“No, I just think that it makes for a more pleasant evening, when people speak to one another rather than sit in quiet contemplation.”

“There was something I wanted to speak with you about,” he said, moving the palms of his hands over his legs, as if nervous. Could that be possible?

“I noticed at the ball that you were speaking with a certain professor who I have known from my time in England,” he began.

Was Wandstein so bold as to speak of this man whose life he had ruined? How dare he?

“Yes, George Cauldronbaum. He mentioned that the two of you knew each other.”

“You could say that,” he replied.

“One probably would.” Eliza wasn’t going to do his work for him. He had brought up George. He could do the talking.

“I would caution you to stay away from him. From what I know of the man, he is not someone with whom you would want to be entangled.”

“Do you mean the fact that he is in the lowly Wizard caste? It can’t have escaped your notice that I happen to be as well?” Eliza could feel her ears getting red as anger spread through her entire body.

Wandstein looked confused and couldn’t seem to manage to offer a reply.

“If that is your problem with him, then perhaps it is lucky for him that he seems to have lost your friendship.”

“I’m not sure what he told you, but whatever it is, you should hear it with caution.”

“Whatever overconfidence is making you think that I should trust you more than him is precisely the reason that I do not,” Eliza said as she stood up, without an exact plan for where she had intended to go after her angry exit.

Just as she did so, an ale-throwing competition—the origins of which she had recently traced to New Jersey in her genealogical research— broke out amongst the rowdy fourth year students. The air was full of ale, cheers, and laughter, all of which were flying in all directions. Luckily, the ale-throwing competition offered Eliza the opportunity to duck behind Wandstein and watch as he absorbed all of the blows.