The Core of ...

The reaction of the professors was different: someone agreed without hesitation and additional questions; someone was worried and did not know what to answer and what points to discuss. The headmistress assured them that this was in no way a test of their competence and would in no way affect their employment contract, or the program of their subject, or how they conduct the lesson, either in her presence or later, and then they finally agreed. She entered a classroom with the last students and left with the first, so as not to make the fact of her presence something special, she sat in the back of the classroom as quietly as a mouse. Of course, the students noticed her; their behavior could not be regarded as ordinary, but it was possible to draw conclusions about their reaction to the presence of the person with the highest authority in the institution. Some behaved demonstratively collected, others - demonstratively at ease. If you compare the behavior of these same people at recess and in their free time, then diametrically opposite trends could be noticed among both the first and the second. However, there were also those who maintained the status quo in all conditions. In general, senior students were more resistant to such provocations. At first, everyone was tense. But when they saw that an outside observer did not interfere in the process in any way, did not take sides in conflicts, that the notes she made did not turn into anything for anyone, they relaxed and began to perceive her as another student. Meanwhile, outside of class, she made it clear to the folk that she was not. The notes she made were about the students, because she wanted to get to know them, and about the subject, because she wanted to know the world they live in. For the latter reason, she was often seen in the library. She studied the castle, the rules of the school, its life and the organisation of its livelihood, got acquainted with all the houses and staff; she was ready to answer all questions from the press or the Board, although she was glad that there were no people willing to ask them. Eventually, there was only one question she still didn't have an answer to.

"Miss Greenwood..."

"Missis."

"Beg my pardon?"

"I'm Missis, not Miss." The old witch raised one eyebrow, showing the need for an explanation. The woman raised her right hand showing the back of it. Metal glinted in the candlelight on her ring finger. "The hand is not the right one, but the ring is undoubtedly a wedding band - there is an engraving on the inside. The inscription is humorous, it doesn't tell me anything." The witch looked down at the floor in embarrassment. "How did I not notice it before? Apparently, I just got used to wearing it. So it happened a long time ago... I'm sorry, I interrupted you, what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Oh, I honestly forgot." The witch was confused.

"Then it's probably not that important." The woman was trying to say with all her appearance that she would prefer to be alone again, without showing disrespect herewith.

"Probably. I'll have to come back when I remember. Ah, as if the head doesn't understand that not only it is old, but also the legs."

The old woman left, lamenting, and the young woman thoughtfully turned to the wall behind her back and began to occasionally glance at one of the paintings hanging on it.

"Don't look for the ring on me, there's no any. And what you're thinking is impossible - I died when you were eighteen."

Without looking up at the owner of the voice, coldly, even harsh, pronouncing these words, she turned back with a sigh. Taking off the ring and examining it once again, she squeezed it in her palm, closed her eyes and tried to put all thoughts and images out of her mind except for one. She hoped that the right ones would come to her on their own. And one really came. She had already heard and read a lot about magic. Her knowledge was superficial and purely theoretical, but it touched on different areas. They once said that there was no point in her touching the wand. Now she had a theory about why.

"Do you know any cliffs?" she appealed to the same voice, "No, not any, but a specific one: a black endless wall towering over the raging sea and overgrown with grass. The sun is blinding there, and the wind is knocking you down."

"That sounds familiar..." he softened a little, "Yes, I saw it; you used this image to block access to the memories you wanted to hide."

The woman faced the portrait with intense concern. "Why would I do that?" The portrait remained pointedly silent. "But you've already said 'A'." The phrase betrayed displeasure, and there was irritation in the voice. However, nothing was achieved by this. The brows drew together thoughtfully. "Does this mean that now I'm blocking access to the memories of this" she pointed at the ring "man? To myself. Do I really know how to do that?"

"Probably not anymore. That wouldn't be surprising. At the same time, it is surprising that so far you have never shown the ability to do any kind of magic. Maybe it's the brain's own reaction? For an injury? Stress? Don't look at me like that, I'm not lying if I say I don't know anything about it."

"And I used to be able to..." she responded sadly and barely audibly.

***

"Ouch! Stop it! Stop! I didn't do it!"

"You did! And not only that! Pete told me every... thing!"

A large crowd of first and second year students gathered in one of the wide passages of the castle. It surrounded two boys and mostly encouraged them to duel, rather than the opposite. The guys were neither strong nor experienced wizards yet, so their clumsily executed curses rarely hit the target, threatening the rest with a stray bullet, which, however, did not motivate them at all to leave the dangerous place.

"Pete? If you believe everything Pete says, then you're dumb as a... mule!"

Another stream of energy convulsively wriggled past the opponent and, ricocheting off the walls several times, flew into the adjacent corridor. A scream came from it. Everyone stiffened and turned their gazes into its depths. A few seconds later, a woman younger than any of the professors, but older than the most adult of the students came out with a quick and firm step. In a moment, cheerful laughter filled the space. Then someone shouted, "It's the headmistress!" and the laughter was replaced by an equally ringing silence.

"Stand still," the headmistress loudly and clearly ordered those who decided to take advantage of their edge location and slip away unnoticed. The first shock passed and someone started laughing anew. "What's so funny by the way?" The woman looked at each of them in turn, firstly, waiting for an answer, and secondly, identifying those present. Finally, her gaze reached a window, and she saw her reflection in it: gray fluffy donkey ears towered over her head on both sides. "Damn... I said stand still. Who cast this spell?" Half of the crowd pointed at one of the boys, while the other half pointed at the other one. The headmistress addressed only the duelists. "Who cast this spell?"

"I did," one of them confessed and bowed his head.

"Then, you're the one to fix it."

"What?" the head flew up.

"When you do something, you need to be ready to fix it. Go ahead."

"But I do not know how."

"Use your brain."

"I know! May I?" a girl was holding out her hand as if in class.

"Believe me, it makes me incredibly happy, but wait a bit." The headmistress turned to the second participant in the duel. "Do you know how to remove them?" He shook his head shyly.

"Oh! I have an idea!"

"Okay."

The wand spun in the air, words flew after it, and a bucket of water was poured on the woman. Silence reigned again, and the boy's eyes rounded up in fear.

"You silly. This spell washes away everything, not cancels it, it works literally."

The woman looked at herself and gave the hapless wizard a reproachful but kind look. It inspired him.

"I know how to fix this!" he assured, and no one had time to blink an eye, as the next spell flew. Almost no one.

"Wait!" The same girl squealed. Quickly realising that the boy couldn't do anything about it, she used her wand. A hurricane-force gust of wind broke free from it and blew out a very small light, flying at the headmistress.

"Very well," she said, "but now imagine what could have happened if the flames had been much stronger. There are a lot of people around." The girl was scared and blushed.

"I'm sorry..." the hair on the boy's head stood on end and he almost cried, having lost all his confidence.

"Alright. Last attempt. Pull yourself together."

The boy reassembled and decided to try to remove at least the ears, using just a negative prefix. It didn't help.

"Didn't I do anything?"

"I don't want to upset you," said someone standing closest to the headmistress, "but you did."

A tail showed up from behind the woman and hit its owner on the hip. A pained groan escaped the duelist's mouth. At that moment, one of the professors appeared behind the crowd. With the question "What's going on here?" she made her way through it to the center until she saw the headmistress.

"What happened?"

"Nothing terrible." the donkey woman replied.

"What a nightmare! I can..."

"No."

"But, Miss Greenwood, let me..."

"I won't let you. They can handle it on their own."

"I won't do anything else, please!" the boy pleaded.

"No, William, you won't. Don't worry, I'm not mad at you, you did well, you tried fearlessly." The woman came closer and wiped his eyes with a tail brush. The kid smiled with a nervous laugh. "Is there anyone here from your house who can undo everything you've done?"

"Well... unless Amelia?"

"Why would I help you?" said Amelia arrogantly.

"I can do it!"

"I remember, Sabrina. Sorry, not this time. Amelia, how about helping your house?"

"Of course." Now the same voice sounded embarrassed. The girl took out her wand and one by one, methodically, removed all the curses from the headmistress.

"Thank you. You see, professor? So. William, minus twenty-five points, five for each curse and unauthorised duel. Plus twenty points in favor of Amelia, five for each shot. And Will, you get five points back for your efforts. Donald, minus five points for dueling and another five for not even trying. Sabrina, plus ten, for saving my dress, and for the power of the spell." With a sigh of satisfaction, the woman looked around the room once more. "Everyone is free to go now."

The headmistress loved to wander around the castle: go up to the towers, or go down to the dungeons, or go into the kitchen; at the time of lessons, or at the time of recess. She did this not so much for the purpose of keeping order, but because of some very strong feeling. Over time, she figured out that this enterprise evokes a sense of life in her. She felt at peace in her office, even when communicating with the portrait. She liked it very much, it was necessary for her, but not enough. In the corridors of the school, she was saturated with the opposite energy.

During one of these promenades, she came across a couple whose conversation had obviously reached a dead end by that moment. They were a professor and a senior student, and both were upset.

"Miss Greenwood! It's good that you're here. I've been wanting to discuss this with you for a long time. You see, this young man has been skipping my classes for several months, and yet they are part of his mandatory program, which he himself" the witch, in search of confirmation of her words, looked into the student's face "chose for his future. I know that he is a responsible boy: he attends other classes regularly, and he was interested in my subject while studying with previous professors - he always got the highest score in exams. I don't understand what's going on, and... I'm starting to think it is my fault, that I'm a bad teacher..."

"Oh, no, professor, believe me, it's not about you at all." From the look and intonation with which the guy uttered this phrase, it was clear that the professor had simply become a forced victim of some kind of his plan, which he had not thought of before and now sincerely regretted.

"About what then?" But the guy closed up again. "Other professors caught him and took off his points, the head imposed detentions. He served them, but nothing changed. What is the matter, Tobias?"

"Or who is... where was he caught? On the way to one of the towers?"

"Yes!" the witch was surprised by the headmistress's awareness, "Into yours."

"Into mine?" The woman raised her eyebrows and tried to keep her gaze on the professor's face - at that second she was not ready to meet the student's eyes, although, with her peripheral vision, she saw that he stealthily looked at her.

"Exactly. In this regard, I think you need to talk to the boy."

The headmistress was lost in thought for a while. Her face remained calm, despite the fact that turmoil and fright were raging in her soul. She didn't know if she understood everything correctly. And if she did, then what's the right thing to do? How not to offend, not to anger, not to disappoint, but to explain and help. Eventually, she turned to the student. There was fright in his eyes too.

"So he's not ready. In this regard, I believe that the boy needs to talk to me. And I'm here to listen if he has anything to say."

"No." The answer came too soon and sounded too harsh: fear turned into panic.

"Too bad." There was no relief. She understood that this was not a solution to the problem, that she had only bought the time she needed. On the other hand, she could lose the boy because of this. "But maybe that's not the point at all. In that case, what's stopping him? Too bad," the headmistress repeated, "but I'll wait. Tobias?" The student looked up from the floor. "I'm here to listen, and I'll be waiting for you. In any case, absenteeism should be stopped."

***

So the days went by. They merged into weeks, then into months. Snow covered the fallen leaves; autumn turned to winter. Everything new turned into a routine; everything that had never been in life before became an integral part of it.

"May I come in?"

"Open!" The woman turned back to the portrait. "You just haven't tried to make them be fond of you. And set the standard. It works with any age... so cute and funny. While one half is competing with each other, the other half is competing with you. Meanwhile, all forces are rushing to study."

"Well, compared to you, I had little chance here."

"Come on, you just haven't tried it. But, of course, this is playing with fire..." She recalled the case of one of the senior students. He never came to talk. However, there was no more truancy; he quickly caught up with the rest in the course, so she calmed down about him and decided that, apparently, that conversation was enough for him. She often saw him in the corridors or in the library, in the company of peers or alone; greeted and smiled to him the same way as to everyone else; did not avoid, but did not try to initiate a conversation. In turn, he also behaved quite naturally. If his gaze lingered on her for longer than etiquette allowed, he made sure that it remained a secret to her. Perhaps she misunderstood him. Well, it's for the better. "I like your approach too, but here, I have little chance." They both laughed heartily. The old arid witch looked at all this with her eyes wide open.

"How are your surveys progressing, Miss Greenwood?"

"On the topic of what? How to get children to study and elves to work? How to get students to awaken their curiosity about science, but suppress it about life; and on the contrary, remind employees why they are exhausted every day? Oh, they're in the process. For example, what do you think about clean-up days?" The woman walked around the table and leaned against it on the other side. "I will explain. I was thinking about the work of the houseis, that it is hidden from view. And when work is not observed by those for whose benefit it is directed, it cannot be appreciated. It's not fair, is it? It is obvious that cleaning is impossible when the dormitory is full of people, and cooking while waiting for a meal. And I'm not considering shifting the work of the elves to the students either. But if once a year each student spends a couple of hours in a group with others, led by a housey, doing something useful for the castle, then it won't hurt anyone in any way, and it will make it clear to the elves that their work is known. Of course, I'm talking about magic, not physical labor. I'm even sure that many students from non-wizard families will be interested in learning about household charms. Moreover, in order not to hurt sorcerers' self-esteem at all, cleaning of lavatories can be excluded from the list. And to stimulate, we can include something interesting. For example, the bathroom of the prefects - if not to take a bath, then at least to see it. Kitchen cellars. Cooking can be a very entertaining process. Surely secret passages periodically need to be cleaned of cobwebs, and portraits in the corridor on the third floor - from dust. Not everything hidden in the castle is necessarily dangerous. The headmaster's office... We won't fine anyone refusing, but we can add some points for participating. What do you say?"

"I'll think about your suggestion. It doesn't sound as wild as some of your previous ones." The headmistress smiled. "Well, what about the surveys on your personal topic?"

"Personal?"

"Yes. Find a way to wake up."

"To wake up?... I'm sorry, I don't understand what you're talking about."

"You do not think everything that's happening is a dream anymore, a figment of your imagination? You do not want to go home?"

"Home? But... but I'm home... am I not?" Miss's confusion was genuine.

"Stop doing that already!" the deputy suddenly exploded.

"Doing what?"

"Forgetting! Burning bridges! How can't you understand, a person cannot live without the past. Without the past, one has no future." The witch's words made the woman start to remember something. This has made her uncomfortable.

"But I don't need a future. I need the present. This one. In this school. Maybe not in the role of headmistress, but in the midst of this craziness... with these books, with my teacher."

"With your teacher," the witch repeated sternly. "Well, if he is so dear to you, then do it at least for his sake." The woman's face showed surprise again. "Do you really not understand what's going on? In all the time that I've known this man, and believe me, it's been a very long time, I've never seen him smile, let alone laugh."

"Don't see anything wrong with being happy," the headmistress replied uncertainly, a pleasant excitement was already forming in her chest.

"You are no longer a little girl, you are an adult, beautiful, sometimes even quite intelligent woman. He's just a portrait, a reflection." The image darted around inside the picture frame, trying to escape every now and then, however, afraid of not knowing the reaction of his former student more than getting to know it. "I'm amazed that such a thing was even possible. But think about what it will lead to."

"But I feel the same way," sounded barely audible. The image halted; now it was distinguished from the real portrait only by the agitated breathing that caught the eye.

"But that is madness!"

"People say that it often is... meanwhile, nothing can be fixed here - it's too late. You're right, feelings are not born in the dead." Now the old witch was looking at her with puzzlement, and the image was completely numb. "They're part of the reflection."

"O! Is it true?" the witch appealed to the portrait, "Oh! I hope you didn't... you've never..."

"My pardon?" The portrait came out of its stupor.

"I'm sorry. But live to my age and... I'm sorry... you've probably faced worse than this." She tried to repeat her question anyway. "So you didn't..."

"No. I've never tou..." the man exhaled sharply, "Never."

"And she?"

"Whaaat?!" The woman held her breath... "This is incredible! No." ...breathed out with relief... "People have completely forgotten the meaning of that word!" ...smiled contentedly... 'that word'.

"That is good," the witch reassured herself, "but of course, there's nothing good there. With your permission, I'll go. I'm too old for this kind of... madness."

They were left alone, if one may use such expressions, when there is not a soul in the room except for you and at the same time it is filled with fragments of the consciousness of many other people. To turn to him was the right thing to do. It was a difficult decision to make, but she plucked up the courage and did it.

"How did you understand that? Did you remember something from the past?" And he didn't have the guts to meet her gaze yet.

"Only from the recent. I recalled your reaction to my appearance in this room before the start of the school year. And then, all this time, unlike the others, you were never absent or asleep. You have always been with me, always ready: to listen, to express your opinion, if I ask for it, to teach... to share silence. Is that how it was? In the past."

"Probably. The circumstances were different." Finally, he was able to look at her. Because he wanted her to know. "I've never thought of you that way... neither have you... Even now, until you said, I didn't realise that what we had was..."

"Was not what she thought it was." One should have closed the subject. It was too early for it to develop back then, now it was too late. In order to save at least what was available, the conversation had to end. "But what you said. And it will be the same from now on."

As the headmistress, the woman had to deal not only with her own affairs of the heart, but also with the students' ones, since they had a negative impact on their studies. She was young enough that they had no doubt that this topic could still be vital to her, and they were more inclined to communicate with her than with any of the professors.

"Mary, what happened? All the professors without exception are unhappy with your academic performance. You have always studied well."

"I'm sorry, Miss Greenwood, but I... I just can't concentrate."

"Are your thoughts occupied with something else?" The girl's cheeks turned red. "Someone?" The girl screamed, jumped up and wanted to run away, but the headmistress halted her. "But there's nothing wrong with that. Let's go upstairs, it's deserted there, we'll talk face to face." The woman correctly understood the girl's embarrassment in front of the portraits, she herself did not like to have conversations in their presence. They went up to the second level and locked themselves in the private part of the tower. "Who is it?"

"Dorian," the girl replied after she was convinced of the safety of the place for her secret.

"Dorian? Then we really have a problem."

"Do you think I'm unworthy of him?"

"Mary, you're worthy of anyone. If it were just a matter of worth... more often than not, it's just the opposite. Tell me, which girls does he prefer? He's already changed a lot of them, so you should have noticed his tastes."

"Well, he likes bright ones - those who put on a lot of makeup; who like to hang out in big companies; funny and open, that is, fervent - not those who hang themselves, but who just don't resist for a long time, who swap boyfriends like shoes. Do you understand?"

"I understand. Do you like that kind? Would you like to be like them?"

"No. No, it's not for me, not at all."

"Then maybe he's not for you either."

"Why is that?" The girl was indignant. "He just hasn't figured out who he needs yet, hasn't found the one he wants to stay with forever."

"That's true. But is he looking for her?"

"I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"I think he hasn't reached the stage of searching for the only one yet. He's still at the entertainment stage." The headmistress paused. "You're from the same house with him, from the same year - it's unlikely that he doesn't know about your existence, right? And you don't need entertainment, do you?" One more pause. "What do you like about Dorian?"

"Oh! Well, what to begin with? He's handsome, smart, so confident... funny - whatever he comes up with to attract another girl..." she hesitated, "passionate... I saw him..." it wasn't just her cheeks that blushed this time.

"And also arrogant, short-tempered, windy..."

"He will change." The girl stated firmly.

"Someday, most likely," the woman continued calmly, "it's not a fact that you'll like the new version."

"I'll like it. I'll change him myself."

"Wait a minute." The woman shook her head. "You already like him. Why change someone you like? And what exactly do you want to change about him?"

"What you have listed."

"But it's all a single whole, an intricately woven tangle. You start pulling the threads out of it and everything falls apart. Passion will go away with short-temper, confidence with arrogance. If he doesn't have to conquer more and more fortresses, even if they are made of straw, there is no need for ingenuity."

"Will use all this to keep."

"To keep who? You? Forgive me, Mary, but you don't need to be kept, you're not going anywhere. This is considered a virtue. Perhaps, over time, his energy will be directed to something more fruitful. Probably not. Perhaps what you consider a shortcomings will become blunted or even completely erased over time, or maybe that will be all that's left. If you are not ready to accept some traits of character so much that you are going to get rid of them, then you should think carefully about the truth of your feelings. Maybe it's you who hasn't found the one yet. After all, somewhere there is a person who does not have those shortcomings, but has those virtues."