The Core of ...

It was a wonderful spring day: fresh wind blew through the mountains, forests, and school corridors and drove damp air out of all the corners it could get into, under warm rays of the sun, which was definitely aiming to warm up the cold earth today, and not a single cloud dared to interfere with it. The whole school poured out to walk, play, or prepare for exams. It was a Sunday, the headmistress had nothing to do, and she didn't want to, so she decided, like everyone else, to enjoy this rare gift of nature. No less than the weather, the woman enjoyed the opportunity to freely cross the crowded school grounds without attracting excessive attention to herself. She never wore a mantle or hat, and if she dressed relatively strictly on weekdays, then on weekends, especially these warm ones, she allowed herself comfortable shoes, loose trousers and a colored blouse. In such an outfit, complemented by a light, fast gait, as well as a nonchalance on her face and frequent gusts to distinguish every insect flying by, she could easily be mistaken for a senior. She didn't try to look younger, it was her natural state of mind, which, however, took a lot of effort to maintain in the presence of so many truly young people who reminded her of her age solely by their presence. But she firmly believed that if you don't disturb time, it won't disturb you, if you don't count the years, you won't age. After all, that's exactly who she wanted to be for the students - the prefect over the prefects. They quickly realised it themselves; they knew that when she appeared, it was not necessary to greet her (unless you had some business with her), to put yourself in order on purpose (it was enough to blush), to stop an argument or even a fight; they also knew that she would not be satisfied with insincerity, would not appreciate snitching, would not take your side, if you don't stand up for yourself.

"Miss Greenwood!" The woman flew past a stone bench by a large tree. "Miss Greenwood!" She stopped. "I would like to say 'good afternoon' to you, but despite the fact that the day is really wonderful, for me it is not so good." A boy with big gray eyes, cheerful curls of golden hair and fair skin covered with bright freckles was sitting on it; a thick book lay on his lap, the pages of which he was fussily flipping back and forth. "Reveal a secret, how did you pass history? I fight over it every night, but no sleep-banishing potion, even the strongest one, helps." He took out all his bookmark fingers and lowered his hands in disappointment. The headmistress started to muse.

"I think I wrote it myself."

"How's that?"

"Do you like fiction?"

"Adventures..." the boy drawled apologetically.

"Then you've already got half the tickets in your bag!" She sat down next to him and, resting her palms on the stone and crossing her legs under it, began to rock and fantasise. "Create your own hero. Let him walk through the pages of this book. Think about how he can assemble a full-fledged team for his undertaking, who can be useful to him, how he can interest them, how to rally them, what conflicts may arise within it during the journey and how he will resolve them, how he will maintain peace in it; who are his enemies, what kind of people are they, what motivates them, how will he fight them - with each in his own way, right - with someone with a word, with someone with a weapon: what will his minstrel sing or how will he arrange his warriors? In the book you will find different answers to these questions. Which ones are correct, if at all possible, and which are not, it will show as well."

"And which side should my hero be on?"

"Well, it depends on who he will be. It depends on you." Her eyes laughed. "Whoever he is, only you will know about it."

The woman took off and flew on. She left the castle and moved along its walls. She didn't want to go anywhere in particular; she just wanted to go wherever her eyes were looking, on a whim. So she walked until, out of nowhere, a boulder fell at her feet. She didn't have time to get scared, just soared into the air to jump over an unexpected obstacle, and not stumble over it.

"Headmistress!"

"Oh! Miss Greenwood! I'm so sorry!" A bunch of freshmen, boys and girls ran up to the woman.

"It's okay..." but there were traces of fright on her face, which finally caught up with her.

"Please, forgive me, I didn't make adjustments for the wind!" one of the girls justified herself. The headmistress measured the stone with her eyes, licked her finger and defiantly tried to estimate the speed of the wind by the slight chill that ran over it. Someone giggled. "Well, while it was still a grain of sand."

"Ah, that's it," the woman said with slight embarrassment, "What kind of game is this? Tell me."

The friendly flock ran back to the base and vied with each other to explain the rules, tell how to choose the right grain of sand, and show the magic of the throw. Everyone was having fun, the excitement returned to the children, they plunged back into the game, when suddenly, behind a large bush sprawling nearby, there was a loud bang, and all of them, along with the headmistress, instantly found themselves in the middle of the forest.

"What happened? How did it happen?" The headmistress, startled and disoriented, looked around, then caught and gathered herself. "Is everyone here? Was no one hurt?"

"Yes!"

"Everyone is safe."

"Everyone is here."

"But where?"

"In the woods, obviously."

"In the forbidden part?"

"Ah!"

"Oh!"

"Okay. Don't panic. Does anyone understand how this happened?"

"I did it." A dark-haired, pale-skinned boy with guiltily lowered head and arms walked out of the crowd. "I heard a strange noise behind me and was scared." He stared at the ground and fidgeted with his fingers. "I wanted everyone to be safe..."

"And you took us to who knows where?!"

"To a forbidden part of the forest?!"

"Thank you, we're safe now."

"How are we going to get out of here now?"

"Don't gang up on him. He was trying to protect us all," the woman put her hand on the upset boy's shoulder. "Do you see? He could have escaped alone. We'll find a way out if we don't fight, but search for it. Has anyone ever been here? Now is the time to capitalise on your mischief. No? Where did you want to take us?"

"Not here, to another forest, but I didn't have the strength."

"It's strange that you did this at all, because there is a blocking spell on the school grounds."

There was silence for a while. The most frightening thing was that the forest was silent too, as if it was listening to uninvited guests.

"Such a pity that you can't bring us back," one of the guys sighed.

"Shut up!" one of the girls shushed him.

"It wouldn't have worked in any case" another commented.

"What did you say? What does 'in any case' mean? You..." the headmistress's eyes darted across the children's faces, "How do you... does the whole school know about this?!"

"Don't be afraid, Miss Greenwood! We didn't tell anyone!"

"And we won't tell!"

"No one will tell!"

"Never ever!"

"But... why..."

"What's the big deal?"

"Yes! You're cool without magic!"

"You have never made a difference in us, so why should we differentiate you from us?"

The fingers on the hands and feet of the headmistress were still icy, and the cold sweat had not yet evaporated from her forehead, but her heart, warmed by their words, had already begun to beat faster and send hot streams to all parts of her body. She slowly sank down onto the trunk of a fallen tree.

"You have no idea what you have just done. Please, when you grow up, keep thinking the same way."

Every single one of them felt the ground shake under their feet. A few seconds later, the dull, disorderly sound of dozens of hooves reached their ears. The woman stood up, and the children crowded around her. Everything turned into hearing and seeing.

"It's centaurs."

"Are they one of those forest dwellers who don't like visitors?"

"Yeah."

"And because of which you may need the infusion for splicing bones?"

"Exactly."

"Attention. Everyone stands behind me and keeps a low profile."

"But you..."

"Do as I say."

Finally, on the road, if that's what you can call a wide but still path, on which not a blade of grass grew and only the roots of trees, here and there, came to the surface, a herd of horses appeared, but instead of necks and heads, the mighty bodies of human beings towered over the mighty bodies of wild animals. They were all men, and they were wearing only leather ammunition. The leader raised his hand, signaling to stop, and the incredible creatures obeyed his order, standing in a semicircle in front of the strangers.

"Put down your wands." The formidable leader gave this command to the aliens. His harsh voice brought the woman back to reality; she turned around and found her group bristling like a porcupine.

"Put down your weapon," trying to keep her voice under control, she said.

"Wands first."

"They're children. They won't do anything to you."

"Children of wizards. Fool someone else."

"They won't do anything to you. Because I tell them." The words were addressed not only, and not so much, to the centaurs as to the students. "We're not here because of you. Do you see the wand in my hands? And you just scared them."

"Keep your hands where I can see them." Said the leader after carefully examining the situation, "Lower your weapon." The warriors took a free stance.

"Children, put down your wands."

"Are you sure?"

"They're centaurs."

"Absolutely. Do you remember what you said about the differences? It's all about the same thing." The porcupine's spines have smoothed out.

"What are you doing here? Students are not allowed to go to this part of the forest."

"I know, and I apologize. We were accidentally thrown here, and we are looking for a way back. Could you help us?"

"We've already helped - kept you alive. We're not going to coddle you." The leader waved his hand and the mini-army impassively began to move on.

"If only you could tell me which way the castle is located!... I would really appreciate it!" The woman looked into the face of everyone who passed by, but they didn't even look at her. "No? It's very sad." She stared after them in silence for a moment longer, and then turned to the children, who were holding their breath. "Well. So we're going back to plan 'A'."

"To plan 'A'?"

"Was there such?"

"I haven't heard."

"Plan 'A' is to climb higher and try to figure out where we are. You do levitation in the first year, don't you? So you should be able to do it. Can you lift me higher than the trees?"

"Why you, and not one of us?"

"Because if someone falls down, it's better be me."

"But you're heavier."

"But weight is not important. You're not going to lift me up with your hands. Right?"

"Right."

After many attempts to do what was planned, individually, in groups, and all together, after many falls and assurances that everything was okay, there was no need to worry, the technique of safety net and soft landing was developed, but not lifting to at least some decent height. The students were obviously exhausted and discouraged.

"Well, the C's. At least lift me up to the lowest branch of that tree, and then I'll manage on my own."

They were able to do this, and the woman began to climb up with energy, knowledge, and even pleasure, and soon disappeared from sight, engulfed by the young foliage of numerous branches. The students were waiting below, talking excitedly. Their enthusiastic hum drowned out the sound of the arrival of the old witch, who had always been calm and collected, but now looked as if she had never expected to see everyone in one place, safe and sound.

"Praise the saints! I did it! You're still here! All? Yes, all. No, wait a minute. Someone is missing. Where's the headmistress?"

"There!" the boy joyfully pointed his finger at the sky.

"On the tree."

"How?! Who put her there? Which one of you did it? Answer me."

"I did! Oh! It was her idea! Honestly!"

"It's true!"

"To see where we are. And where the castle is."

"Folks, good news! We're not that far away," the ruddy face of the headmistress hung upside down from the lower branch and met nose to nose with the stunned face of her deputy.

"We have better news," a smiling little face poked out from behind the old witch.

"How did you find us so quickly? How did you even know we were lost? The alarm system is broken."

"One centaur rode up and said that he had met you in the forest, and pointed out the place where to look for you." The two women looked at each other in surprise. "He explained his action by saying that the quote: 'a sorceress has never looked at him with such admiration'." One of them blushed.

"I hope you didn't disappoint him."

"The barrier has been restored, however, we do not know by whom or when it was removed. As soon as the break-in was discovered, we combed the castle and the territory and found no one. We have already established surveillance and will be watching the borders more closely."

"How was it discovered?"

"I heard that one boy from the first year," one of the sorceresses chimed in, "I think his name is Damien, transported several people, including you, the headmistress, into the depths of the forest."

"That's right. It was an act of spontaneous magic. It's rare at this age, but it happens. Someone had scared him badly. He will be a powerful wizard when he learns to control himself."

"Damien? From the first year?" another one reacted, "I know him, he's my neighbor - a very strange boy and unfriendly. Couldn't he have done it on purpose? Revenge on the mates for something?"

"He was among friends."

"Friends? Of him? I never would have thought. He's always so close."

"I'm glad that school helped him open up."

"And there, in the forest, you were attacked by centaurs."

"They didn't attack. They were patrolling their territory. We violated it, but we were able to come to an agreement."

"Negotiate with the centaurs?!" some wizard rebelled. "They're savages, they're dangerous. Why didn't you come back right away? You have put the children at risk!"

"The danger was to try to move everyone back at once. It was a miracle that no one got hurt on the way there. And to take two and leave the rest somewhere unknown is completely unthinkable." The headmistress took a breath. "As you probably already know, it was the centaurs who saved us. They were the ones who notified the school of our location. So if I were you, I would reconsider my attitude towards them."

"How zealously you defend them. Do you sympathise with them?"

"I'm trying to be fair."

"As fair as in matters of education? At the beginning of the year, you assured us that you were here only to learn, not to make changes. However, I've heard that nowadays at school they don't see the difference between a duel and a fist fight."

The teacher was right, thought the headmistress: they had a reason, and now this pack would remember everything to her. But she was ready to confront them. It wasn't that difficult, because she wasn't going to lie and she was confident in the correctness of her actions.

"First of all, you must be misheard. I'm not fighting magic and sports, but abuse and violence. And yes, I don't care what kind of weapon it is committed with. Secondly... you misheard again - I did not give such instructions to the professors. That's what I do, and if one of my colleagues found the approach worthy of adoption, then it probably makes sense."

"As well as forcing students to do the work of servants?!"

"You were provided with incorrect information. No one forces them. On the contrary, they themselves willingly take the chance to earn points. Moreover, everyone has only one such. And the tension among the 'servants' has subsided a little, which has a good effect not only on the school."

"If you're so cunning, maybe you set up a meeting with centaurs to subside tension in the forest too?"

"Are you serious?" There was not a drop of indignation in the young headmistress' tone or pose at this question. The pause and the muffled voice spoke only of shock, as a reaction to the fact that such a thought could enter someone's head.

The questions ended, and after being assured that they would be notified of the results as the investigation progressed, the visitors left. Both the board session and the press conference were held in the headmaster's office. When the door closed behind the last of the guests, everyone present from the school party, including the portraits, became agitated. The last claim angered the absolute majority, and now they were wondering what consequences it might entail. Meanwhile, the man with the scar on his forehead approached the headmistress.

"You wiped the floor with them," he said, chuckling contentedly, "and with such composure. Did the kids train you that well?"

"Not the other way around," she laughed in response. "But frankly speaking, my knees are still shaking." And then she looked at him carefully. "Do you not admit the possibility that he was right? That I set it up?"

"No." There really wasn't a shadow of doubt on the man's face.

"Why? I am the daughter of the one who gave you this;" she pointed to his forehead with her eyes, "I belonged to the house that has always been your main rival, famous for its guile and was considered a forge of evil wizards; my name is on the list of those who died on the day of your battle with my father... You didn't trust me so much before." The interlocutor wanted to be surprised, but she prevented it. "You told me that I never considered you my enemy. You didn't say that it was mutual."

"Your name is listed on the side of the school."

"As well as everyone who studied at it then, I suppose. I think my memory was erased. For what reason? For reformation? And this... is this an exam?"

"Nonsense. A person who did what you did," the man's gaze filled with respect bordering on admiration, "does not need to be reformed. And such a person could not have done what they wanted to accuse you of. I was unfair to you before. And I would ask for your forgiveness if you would remember that."

"It's been a long time since then." The woman spoke as if what was said above concerned a completely different person. It was like that for her. "Who knows what kind of life I've lived. I could have changed."

"Not a drop."

"Not a drop..." the portrait wall echoed in the darkness.

"But I can't recall anything. And the walls of the school don't help. I think I'm blocking the memories myself. Maybe I did something terrible and now don't want to remember. Do you know anything about one cliff? It towers over the sea; the water beneath is always raging..."

"The cliff?" the man jerked his head. "A rock with a cave? Rain and storm..."

"No. No, the sun is shining there."

"Listen, something terrible has been done to you. And I'm sure it's because of this exact person that you don't want to remember."

***

The end of the school year was mercilessly approaching, and with it, the woman realised that, was approaching her last day in... this world only? Or in all of them? They won't leave her at school for the summer, and next year the miracle won't happen again - it was too good, it only happens once in a lifetime. If she doesn't remember, she will have nowhere to go, she will completely lose herself, disappear into oblivion. She seemed ready for this. She did not regret the time she had spent there, the memory that had not returned. Memory saves time. But time is valuable only when you know your goal and go towards it. Otherwise, you should not feel sorry for either of them. She stubbornly pushed away the thoughts that should have occupied her for the rest of her time. But she decided to spend it the way she likes, not the way it would be wise.

"Professor! Look what I found!" Flying into the room with a light gait, she stopped and closed a book in her hands. Her excited gaiety disappeared - the professor was not alone. There were two other people in the office, with whom he and another portrait were talking about something, perhaps even in raised tones. The headmistress became very upset by all this: it was a day off and not a particularly fine day; she planned to spend it with the teacher, discussing his favorite topic, for which she needed him in a good mood, and visitors were absolutely not needed. "What are you doing here? Who is it?" A blond man, similar in age to the dark-haired one who met her at the beginning of the year, her age, turned around at the voice and numbed. He even seemed to stop breathing so as not to frighten away what he thought was a vision. Something in his gaze reminded her of the portrait's gaze when she first entered this room. The woman understood that she needed to go easy on this man, although she didn't like this state of affairs at all. "Who let you in?" she directed all her displeasure at her deputy, "Not an office, but a schoolyard!" The headmistress walked heavily to her place on the other side of the desk. "Hmm, I've never seen you awake before," she said, addressing the portrait of an old man with long gray hair and beard, wearing half-moon glasses.

"I opened one eye sometimes. In most cases, you were looking at someone else."

The woman ignored this reproach. As she passed by the stranger, he touched her hand to make sure she was real; she pulled it back rather out of habit.

"I'm sorry," she said to the guest, "you found me in a bad mood. Which, of course, doesn't excuse me in any way."

The headmistress reached her chair and, sitting down, made a gesture inviting everyone to do the same. The guest introduced himself. She did not ask about the purpose of the visit - it was not difficult to guess; due to what the presence of this guest did not become more desirable. There was a pause. The man was thinking about something excitedly, meanwhile visually he was quite restrained. Lifting his gaze to the woman, then lowering it to the floor, he continued to have an argument that had begun before her coming, only now, he was its only participant. The woman, in turn, stared at him without taking her eyes off, trying to imagine what was eating him.

"Were we close?" She glanced at his hand, at the ring banding his ring finger. No, it was not him: the wrong hand, besides, it was gold, smooth, and hers was silver, with a fingerprint.

"We were. But it didn't come to that."

He turned the ring over and over without taking it off. The answer to the question was received. Keeping her hands under the table, she changed the hand for her ring to make the sign easier to read. Then, she placed them on the table. He noticed. At first, the pain of regret, of missing a moment, slid across his face. However, after a few seconds it smoothed out, and the man sighed, with sadness, but at the same time with relief - everything is right, "Thank you."

"What did I have with this man? What did we have? Do I want to recollect that? Is it for the best? Is that all?"

"I'm not sure," the indecision returned again.

"No, that's not all," a stern voice came from the window.

"Look, I've already gone against her will once."

"Now sort it out." It was cruel.

"What makes you think he can do that?" For some reason she couldn't understand, the woman felt sympathy for the stranger and didn't want him to suffer, and she saw that this was exactly what it was all coming to.

"If it's not him, then I just don't know what to do anymore." On the one hand, apologising, on the other, insisting, said the witch.

"Nothing!" Now, thought the headmistress, she will ask him the question she asks everyone, and they will say goodbye, she will try to create the right atmosphere for a conversation with the teacher, and then she will simply be gone. Such a great plan. "Alright. Then tell me, do you know anything about some cliff..."

"The cliff? It's it again. It's always it. I know..."

"Really?!" A thin needle has entered the heart. "So that's it? Is this the end? But I don't want to!"

"No, I'm not sure I can go through that again."

"You don't have to. I don't want to remember." She turned to the old witch. "I'm happy here, now. I feel at home here. Finally! After all, the school brought me here on its own. Am I not doing my job?"

"Oh. You are, and even quite well. But the head of the school can only be someone who holds magic. And this is not a whim of the Board. There are some things that only a wizard can do. The school brought you here, it's true, but not so that you can stay here. It's hard for me to tell you this, but it seems that you were the reason the barrier fell."

"You mean..." What if she doesn't disappear, but stays and ruins the school? "Then why am I here?"

"Maybe, after all, in order to remember?"

"But you can't help me do that!"

"They can't," a surprisingly calm voice rang out. "Because they don't realise what happened. They think it's about the ritual. Only you and I realise that it's not. That's why I can." The man took a deep breath. "The first time I saw the cliff was in the room where I recreated one garden for you. We were studying then. This garden was my favorite place when I was a kid. I shared it with you, and you shared yours with me. And it was the cliff. You said that, in spite of the raging elements, you felt some comprehensive peace there."

"Peace..." the word echoed in her brain once more in an old man's voice. The woman pondered. For some reason, it wasn't the cliff that interested her now. "And the garden, what did it look like?"

"The garden?" the narrator was surprised. "It was adjacent to an old stone house with large windows. On one side it was enclosed by a brick wall with flower beds, on the other by a stream and a grove, and on the third by a..."

"Maze?"

"Yes... Do you remember it?!" She was struck by the tenderness that accompanied the question-exclamation.

"This is what the old man from the Board offered me. But he was a mind reader, that's for sure. He asked me where I would feel comfortable. He wanted to know that so much, I could even feel his desire physically. And for some reason, a garden with a maze came to my mind. Not a cliff, but... willows... which intertwined branches support me above the water, lulling me to sleep along with it." It was as if the image had become a vision developing in real time. "They move, form different objects, transport me to the ground, where... you are waiting for me..." She looked up at the man and recognition appeared in her gaze for the first time. "I remember you. I remember the station, the ball, the school, the train..." The scenes appeared in the mind and fell into the piggy bank of memory. There was no time for their comprehension now, but it would come, everything would fall into place when all the necessary pieces of the puzzle came together. Before the train, there was a house in a small town and two visitors. "I remember you..." the woman looked at the portrait of the man in black, and the memories associated with him began to run. One of them made her cheeks turn red, but her lips twitched in a pleased grin. Then she furrowed her brows and looked at the portrait of the gray-haired old man. "And I remember you..." feeling a pang in her heart, she wanted to accuse him of something, but in the end she just shook her head in disappointment. And then the pain became unbearable. She turned back to the teacher and her eyes widened in horror.

"Don't jump to conclusions." The man in the portrait became very agitated. It was obvious that he was in pain too.

"I did it..."

"No," he said firmly. "Don't you dare think that. Your father did it. Not you. You saved me."

"To kill later."

"To let me go. To make me free." the image almost begged.

"No! You don't understand! I could have not done it! You might have not wanted it. If only I was thinking about life instead of death. If I wanted to live, you would stop dreaming of dying! And I..." The woman sank into a chair and dropped her head into her hands. "What have I done?"

"So that's who you were talking about. Of course, 'beloved teacher'..."

Meanwhile, the old witch stood at a complete loss, ready to demand, like her young successor before, that she finally be told everything. Until recently, she was sure that she did know everything about this story.

"But you did let me go." (His eyes grew dim. In complete silence, he looked at her transparent face for a while. Then he moved his gaze towards the floor, kneeled down beside her body, gathered her hands in his, and put his face on them... "Thank you"...) "I don't understand." The blond man lowered his guilt-filled eyes.