The Core of ...

"This password is no longer valid."

"What do you mean? It doesn't work? I just updated it yesterday."

"The password can only be set by the headmaster or the headmistress of the school."

"That's right! I am the headmistress."

"Not anymore."

"What are you saying?! Is this some kind of a joke? I don't have time for jokes - tomorrow is the start of the school year. Let me into my office immediately!"

"This is not your office."

"Whose is it?"

"Headmistresses of the school."

"I understand that. Who is she?"

"Evelyn Greenwood."

The stone gryphon went back to sleep again, returned to a state of that peace in which a rock should remain. The old witch, arid, with strict features, dressed in an equally strict black dress, and with her gray hair tied up in a bun, petrified, shocked by what she heard, becoming like a sculpture herself.

"But that's impossible," finally, she stammered. Meanwhile, only her thin, wrinkled lips were set in motion. The statue was silent. "Who appointed her?"

"The school." Awakening from and returning to eternity did not happen quickly.

"Is that possible?" As before, there was no comment. "But this..." she wanted to say 'girl', but realised that - how many? - eighteen years had passed, "...woman no longer belongs to this world." Reminiscences surfaced in the witch's memory and sadness settled on her forehead.

"She studied at the school."

"Yes, but... she can't be here."

"The school always remains a home for its students, current and past."

"She probably doesn't have any experience either. And the Board won't allow it. And..." The witch bent her always straight despite the age back. She no longer thought about the fact that she was suddenly deprived of her post. She thought about the girl she had once known, and the woman she had never met, and... "Why?" More silence in response. "And where am I supposed to look for her?"

"In the Book."

"I don't even know where to start." Opposite the witch stood a man in his mid-thirties, fit, with unruly black hair and green eyes. He looked around the room as if comparing it with another one existing in his memories. Good memories. "You see, the reason I'm hosting you in my old office is the same as the reason I called you. Namely, I am no longer the headmistress. The school has appointed another person to this position."

"You mean, the Board?" The guest looked up from the contents of a blackboard and seriously concentrated on the content of the words he had heard. "Right before the start of the school year? I don't know anything about it. But why?"

"I mean, the school," the old woman pointed at the walls, "itself."

"How is that?"

"Just like this: the statue refused to let me in."

"Is this possible? Are you sure this isn't a poltergeist prank? Has someone enchanted the statue?"

"Unlikely. At least, neither I nor the professor of Charms were able to detect the presence of sorcery, however, I would ask you to check it personally. Otherwise, this 'someone' managed to enchant the Book as well."

"Okay. And who is the new headmaster, or the new headmistress?"

"You should still sit down." The professor said with care and some thrill to her former student, and now to a good friend. Her face suddenly looked guilty. "This person is Evelyn Greenwood."

"But that's impossible." He said after a few seconds of muted shaking of his head. "At least because she's dead."

"I'm afraid that's not exactly the problem. I have to tell you something." The man finally sat down.

***

The day was approaching its midpoint. The sun was shining outside, bright and warm as always, however, it illuminated the wall of a house opposite, and cool and humid air entered an open window of the apartment building on this side. This is a common situation for late summer and early autumn, if you live near a big water. The apartment had furniture, and yet, it looked empty. It did not have that many specific objects that could tell a guest about their host, which would turn a space into a home. A woman in her mid-thirties was sitting on the couch with the TV turned off. She was wearing dark blue pajamas, studded with white stars and comets, and warm enough to keep from freezing. She sat motionless, only her face alternated between emotions, and her lips moved without uttering a word. Periodically, she stopped, pondered, shook her head, and again began to soundlessly speak to someone... for someone. She had a phone in her hands and from time to time she unlocked it and started writing something down. There was an open laptop on the coffee table nearby; a list of vacancies was burning on its screen, but the woman was clearly not interested in it. The longer she was alone, the more difficult it was for her to keep in touch with the real world, the more difficult it was to arouse the desire to do this, the deeper she plunged into the world of her imagination. It had always been that way, but now she was trying to put what was happening in it into words, and therefore the process began to have kinda intellectual character and could calm her conscience, for a while. She didn't seriously intend to write a book that would be read later, but she found in this activity a way to reflect and tell herself about herself; about what was important to her, what worried her; about what she saw and how she thought.

A noise came from the balcony. There were always a lot of seagulls on the street, they flew through the streets of the city around the clock, rummaged through garbage cans, sat long on roofs and lampposts, but they never got so brazen as to break into private property. Nevertheless, if some stupid bird flew into the apartment, it would be extremely difficult to expel it, so the woman got up and went to the open door to the balcony. Her movements were fast and smooth at the same time. A breeze blew the curly locks of thick brown just touching the shoulders hair off her face, and revealed a narrow face with a long nose and gray eyes. What surprise was reflected in them when she saw an owl on the glass fence. Besides seagulls, it was quite possible to expect a dove, a magpie, even a parrot, but an owl... no, definitely not. Not only had she never seen such a bird species in the park, but this one was also holding an envelope in its beak. After making sure that there was no 'clown' wandering under the window, capable of carrying the exotic animal with him, she turned her gaze back to them.

"Is that for me?" The owl made a guttural sound in response and craned its neck towards the woman. The woman, in turn, reached out and took what she was offered to take. " 'To: Miss Evelyn Greenwood-Riddle.' You got the address wrong... actually, no, the address is correct. You got the name wrong, she doesn't live here." She said and handed the envelope back. The owl didn't withdraw it, but spread its feathers and hissed. "Okay, I'll ask the owner if she lived here." The woman was about to go inside, but the bird screamed and flapped its wings. "What's wrong? I'll ask right away, but I can't guarantee that he'll answer right away. Do you want to keep the letter? Here you go." The owl seemed to reach for the envelope, but instead of taking it, bit the woman's finger. "Ouch! What are you doing?! It hurts." Blood was flowing down her finger, but the bird did not let the woman go into the kitchen for a napkin, threatening to follow her. "Well, no way. You're not going there. Ah... I don't understand, do you want me to read the letter? But it's not for me." And again the guttural sound. "Alright, if you say so. It will be on your conscience." After breaking the seal on the envelope she pulled out a sheet of thick paper. Strange were both, the handwriting and the way the lines were written, sometimes thickening and sometimes narrowing. The text itself consisted of only a few lines. " 'Miss Evelyn Greenwood-Riddle, School of Magic'... What?" The woman looked skeptically at the owl and glanced around again, looking closer at the cars parked along the road, at the windows of the house opposite. " '...is pleased to offer You the position of headmistress'..." complete nonsense, " '...with a wage in'... gold? '...and accommodation within its walls. In the event of consent, please put your signature below.' "

The woman shifted her hold on the letter and, raising her eyebrows, wanted to express her doubts about the correctness of the delivery to the bird one more time, when suddenly she felt sick. It was as if she had been sucked, starting from her stomach, into something that could be described as a tunnel, and houses, fields, forests, villages, towns, and fields again, began to fly by. They flashed before her eyes so fast that her head was spinning almost to the point of a migraine. Closing eyes didn't help either - the speed was so high that nausea rose in the throat. Finally, she was spat out onto something hard and rough. There were unpolished, unpainted, dusty planks, on which she rolled head over heels until she met a similar obstacle, but located at right angles to the first one.

"Ayyyyy!!"

"Are you all right?" an alarmed, age worn, rattling voice sounded above her head, and caring hands were placed on her shoulders.

"No. I'm going to be sick. You'd better step back." The woman was sitting on her knees, leaning on the floor with one hand, clutching the belly with the other one, and lowering her head low, breathing deeply and steadily.

"He was right." the same voice said somewhere to the side, "Here, have a drink, you'll feel better instantly."

The woman grabbed a small bottle made of thick faceted glass and tipped over the offered medicine without even thinking about precautions, however, she really immediately felt better.

"Do you also have ointment for bruises?" The smile left her lips as she looked at the old woman, her outfit, eyed the room and saw a man standing near the door, silently and intently watching her.

"Certainly. Not with me, at school."

"At school?!"

"Of course. Miss Greenwood, we don't have a minute to spare. If you are already able to walk..."

" 'Miss Greenwood'? Oh no! I told the bird that you were mistaken. That's not my name."

"My eyes tell me otherwise."

"Impossible. We don't know each other. I would have remembered you - too unusual is your appearance."

"Since you're not Miss Greenwood, why did you sign the contract?"

"But I signed nothing."

"It can't be. Then you wouldn't be here. Show me the document."

The letter had been in the young woman's hand all this time, and she held it out to the old one. There were bloodstains everywhere on the paper, and a distinct fingerprint stood out among other smeared blots.

"I'm sorry, the owl bit me... no. No, no, no. You don't want to say that this can be considered a signature. Come on."

"Well," the old woman was slightly embarrassed by such barbarism, "technically... the school has existed since such times that... My apologies, but everything is legally correct. You have signed a contract with the school."

"But my name is not Greenwood, I can't be the headmistress of the school of... magic! Are you kidding? What magic?!"

"The one that brought you here."

"But I don't know anything about it! And I tell you again, that's not my name."

"What is your name?"

"My name is..." her gaze froze on the face riddled with wrinkles, "my name..."

"Did you lose it on the way? Like all the other memories?" With gradually increasing fear, the newcomer tried to find them on the floor, searched the corners with her eyes, but there was nothing there. "Let's go to school," the harsh voice softened, the old witch hugged the shocked woman and led her to the exit, "its walls will help you remember everything."

As they walked along the narrow, dark corridor, the man periodically cast an interested glance in her direction, and she cast an incredulous glance at the instrument in his hand that provided them with light.

"What is it?"

"This?" he shook his arm, "It's a wand."

"You mean, a magic wand?"

"Yeah."

"Mm... that's what I thought, I just decided to clarify."

They walked on.

"Did you talk to the bird?"

"Yes." the woman confessed, "Don't make a big deal out of it, I talk to the bedside table too." and refined "Fortunately, nothing has answered me yet."

"You wait," the interlocutor replied mysteriously.

They came to a massive wooden door with heavy wrought-iron hinges and bolts. Some words were spoken and the bolts opened on their own. Now they were in a very wide corridor, with high pointed arches and lit by many torches hung along the walls in both directions every six feet, and completely empty.

"Is this a castle? Is the school located in a castle?" The woman was obviously inspired.

"Yes," the man looked at her searchingly, "does it look familiar?"

"No," the woman replied in a firm voice, and as he continued to look at her, she also looked into his eyes.

"Don't you recognise me either?"

"I don't."

"Does that mean anything to you?" he brushed his hair back from his forehead, revealing the scar adorning it. She studied this strange mark for a while.

"It does." The man perked up. "That we haven't met. If we were, I would..."

"Remember? Because the scar is too unusual?"

"Exactly."

"Not so fast." the old witch said, soothingly touching the shoulders of both. "Let's go, we don't have much time." and she hurried forward.

"How did you get it?"

"Your father awarded me with it."

"Were we enemies?"

"You've never considered me your enemy..." he didn't answer right away and didn't seem to know how to continue.

"So my father and I didn't get along." she spared him the answer, "And he..."

"He's dead." the man snapped.

"Without any 'my condolences'."

They walked for a long time, turned many times, climbed stairs, were transported by them, and on their way they did not meet a soul. Finally, they stopped at the stone statue of the gryphon. There, a couple was waiting for them.

"Good evening, headmistress. Oh, pardon, professor." A woman spoke first. She was also thirty-something, active, with short-cropped, smoothed black hair, and, in general, rather pleasant-looking, except for that ice floes glittered in her eyes every now and then. "We just happened to hear about the embarrassment that happened to you today, and I must say we were surprised that you did not inform the Board. You know, we are quite capable of acting quickly and would certainly help you find a worthy replacement."

"Kh-o would doubt it," the ex-headmistress's companion coughed aside. The board representative raised a thin eyebrow, but remained silent.

"Oh, I don't doubt the Board's competence at all, it's just that in this case there was no need to bother you - the school found a new head on its own."

"You mean, professorial staff? But you're not in the right..."

"I mean, the school, itself. The agreement has been signed" the folded letter loomed in front of the board members and disappeared under the black mantle "and will enter into force as soon as we cross the doorstep of the office."

"But... you can't do that... we will protest!"

"As you wish. However, you will have to spend a lot of time searching for arguments, since there have been no such precedents before. And we don't have that time today. So let us leave you, we have a lot to do."

"And this young lady, as I understand it, is the new headmistress?" A puny old man, hovering over a thin cane under his palms, joined the conversation. Despite his age, his eyes were clear. Their sight was inviting; the easier it was for them to penetrate into the depths of the interlocutor's soul. And now they were smiling at the woman, who had been standing quietly beside the old witch all this time and watching the happening attentively. Catching this gaze, she involuntarily ran her eyes over her dirty pajamas and felt her ears light up, covered up with thick hair. "What a lovely girl. Won't you even introduce her to us?"

"Why not? Miss Greenwood." At these words, the newly minted headmistress looked away and swallowed. The old man's eyes flashed with predatory gleam.

"Are you sure that this is not the result of a misunderstanding?" Now it was the gaze of a snake hypnotising its prey. "That the girl is not a victim of circumstances?" Meanwhile, if the victim was captured by it, she didn't show it.

"I've already signed the papers."

"Oh, don't worry, that doesn't mean anything. Just tell... and the contract will lose its legal force. Why take on such a big responsibility?"

The woman was silent. "I wanted this... as soon as I read the letter, somewhere deep in my soul, I wanted this," she thought. Behind her, the old witch held back the hand pulling out the wand. "This is madness but... why not?"

"You will be given a dwelling for the duration of an investigation. Where would you feel comfortable? Just tell. In an old house... with a big garden... and a maze of hedges?... In solitude... in peace..."

"Why did I think of that? Why did he think the same thing? Thank you for your concern, but I have already been given a dwelling - the school. I'm quite comfortable here. If that's all, then let me take up my duties." She smiled sweetly at the old man, and he had to retreat.

"This is not my competency," he said and waved his hand towards the statue.

The woman approached the gryphon with surprise on her face; the others stepped back. The stone came alive: the strange animal spread its wings, stuck out its leg and lowered its head in a low bow. The door it was guarding opened.

"Was it my imagination, or did they want to buy me?" the headmistress asked when the door to the office closed again and there were just three of them again. Along the way, she wandered around the room and studied objects that filled it. Some looked like tools for doing science: astronomy, physics, chemistry. Others were completely strange and did not evoke any associations. They were innumerable. They staffed the floor, cabinets, and a large desk that was already littered with papers. Behind this table, two staircases led to the second level, and portraits hung on the wall between them.

"Evelyn..." one of them whispered and walked towards her with a quick step. He was a middle-aged man in a long black robe, with a pale face, straight black hair and the black eyes as well. Her appearance clearly excited him, however, he stopped in confusion when realised that the woman was not approaching him an inch, only the space of the painting was getting narrower. Besides, her gaze lingered on him for just a couple of moments with an expression of not bigger curiosity than to anything else and slipped on.

And the woman decided not to be surprised by anything anymore - portals, magic wands, flying ladders, living statues, moving paintings, whatever else - she decided to absorb the information and try to adjust to the situation. She turned her back to the desk and leaned on it with her elbows, continuing to inspect her possessions. Lots of old books... "That's good..." Window... "What's behind it?" She went to it.

"It wasn't your imagination."

"What for?"

"To expand the zone of influence. The usual thing. But why didn't you accept it? After all, that's exactly what happened."

"Because I don't like it when people want to buy me."

The ringing of bells broke the silence.

"Already!" the witch went to the window and looked through. Far below, myriads of yellow lights flowed in two streams towards the castle. "They've arrived. We don't have time to prepare at all, the ceremony is about to begin. Alright." the old woman pulled herself together, "Fortunately, you don't have to do much. I will conduct the ceremony as a deputy. After that, you will only need to say a welcome speech. I'll make a feast too..."

"Speech?" the headmistress's face displayed horror, "Perform?! In front of people?! No! No, no, and no again."

The witch's posture expressed inflexibility. "Have you beaten off the attack of a sophisticated wizard and are you afraid to speak in front of the children?"

"The attack with what? Doesn't matter. Yes! What am I going to tell them?"

"Everything is simple here. I'll introduce you. You will greet them, wish them a good school year, and remind of the school rules. About their existence," she prevented a question, "the details are not needed. Except for two things: the forest and the corridor on the third floor - the headmaster traditionally says this."

"What's wrong with them?"

"It is prohibited to go there."

"Why?" The answer was an indignant look. "Well, I have to explain it somehow, don't I?"

"It's dangerous out there." It was the woman's turn to be indignant. The man in the corner chuckled, and she supported him with a smile and a shrug. "Well, in the forest, obviously, because of its inhabitants. And on the third floor..." the witch was confused, "I do not even know what we have there now. It's still prohibited, for discipline, come up with something. We have to go."

"In this?" the headmistress pointed to her pajamas.

"Yes, you're right." the witch waved her wand and the pajamas became clean, "It's a relevant outfit for tonight."

"Me and children, who would have thought."

"Well, we don't have a kindergarten here. Our students are between eleven and eighteen years old."

"Me and teenagers, it's a bad idea."

"Good evening!" The voice cracked. The woman pretended that something had happened to the microphone - a wand supported in the air by one of the professors at her throat unnoticeable for the others. She watched during the whole ceremony - the happening, the students - and wondered what to say. It was as if she had even thought of something, but as soon as she came face to face with the audience, all the words fled, leaving her all alone in front of it. She did want to run away, but it was unacceptable. "We are glad to welcome you to our school. Everyone... and first of all, the newcomers. From this evening and for the next seven years, it will become your home... with furlough summer days and holidays, of course." The young people were excited, so they accepted this attempt at a joke favorably. This gave the woman a little confidence, however, she fell silent for a while, lowered her gaze and seemed to be listening to something. "Nevertheless, it will remain your home for the rest of your life, if you allow it, open your hearts to it. Then, it will fill them with magic: fun, friendship, love - magic, in a word. Therefore, be brave, be curious, explore... But do not forget to follow the rules that your prefects will tell you about. I will single out a ban on walking in the forest, since its inhabitants do not like to receive guests and can express this in a rather rude way... But still, if you feel unbearably itchy, then first prepare yourself by taking everything needful. No, 'red table', not in the museum of medieval weapons, in the hospital wing. There you will be readily given the strongest painkillers, sprays to stop the streams of blood, infusions for splicing bones, including crushed ones," estimating what might happen, she counted off her fingers, "bandages for attaching torn off limbs, well, I hope no one will have to face absolution... Have I forgotten anything?" She turned to the table where the professors were sitting with their jaws hanging open. At the same time, oohs and giggles were rushing around the hall behind her back. "Oh, yes! The third floor. What do we have there this year? Yeah, actually, nothing like that. In its corridors, we've hung portraits of historians and theorists who have lain in storerooms for hundreds, and some for a thousand years. They've already had a fight with each other, so they'll be thrilled to have new ears." Glancing around the room, "Damn!", she turned back to the professor's table. "I hope we have those - 'blue table' seems to be very excited... Well, I think that's all. Welcome and enjoy your meal!"

"Red and blue tables! Red and blue!" The old witch was pacing the office while the headmistress stood with her head guiltily bowed at the table, running her fingers over it, then clinging to its edge.

"I don't remember names very well, so what's a big deal? Besides, I almost died of fright there."

"I almost died of fright there while I was listening to about torn off limbs." the deputy cast a withering glance, "And where on earth are we going to look for so many portraits now?"

"In the portrait gallery?" the woman murmured softly.

"Oh, thank you so much!" And most of the framed images on the wall echoed the formidable witch.

"I warned you."

"You war... what?! You... haven't gone far from your wards."

"Don't go boiling over it." The man with the scar on his forehead, who was on duty in the hall during the ceremony and the feast, stood up for the unfortunate woman. "The kids had fun. What else do they need for the first day? Besides, believe me, it wasn't the strangest speech I've heard here."

"Thanks." the woman mouthed it.

"I liked what you said about school. Where did it come from?"

"I don't know. I thought it should be like that. I wanted it to be like that. I wanted it so badly, as if I've never had it."

"It is like that." The man looked at her knowingly, "I also noticed that you didn't eat anything during the feast. Why?"

"I was nervous."

"That's all?"

"No. Honestly? I hope that I will go to bed, and tomorrow I will wake up and realise that this is all a dream."

"A dream?!"

"How does this relate to food?"

"If I eat anything here, I will be tied to this world and will not be able to return to my own."