Chapter Text
O hallowed halls and vine-draped walls
The proudliest sight there is
When grey and sere our hair hath turned
We shall still revere the lessons learned
In our days at dear old Shiz
The swirling blue-yellow tie wraps around the underside of a powder blue collar and then around itself, tightening into a sharp triangle at the top of the shirt. The collar folds down followed by cuffs being buttoned. Final touch: the unmistakable vibrant blue blazer flies over shoulders as the left arm is thread through the sleeve, and then the right. The golden S logo of Shiz University twirls elegantly over the left breast pocket, radiating its success and history.
Shiz is the most prestigious and acclaimed university in all of Oz. Many students from all over the world strive to some day find themselves here, but only a select few are enrolled. Students can elevate themselves through academia, with classes ranging from Literature and Mathematics, to Alchemy and perhaps, if you're lucky, Sorcery. Of course, not many are blessed with the talent to wield magic, but of those who do are said to have honed their skills at this very school. Anyone who has earned the opportunity to study at Shiz should be very proud, indeed.
But our main character isn't just anyone.
"Now, listen carefully and listen well," a mother says, "You're lucky that you even got into this school—" that is, if you consider a straight A student who has been at the top of her class every year without fail 'lucky.'
"You are to stay out of trouble and write to me every Monday and Thursday," she continues. "You are not to miss a single class, and your grades better not drop by even half a letter. You are not here to make friends. You are here to study and get a respectable degree. Don't you dare sully our family name with your antics. And most importantly of all: Stay. Out. Of. Trouble." The mother pulls down on the student's blazer in a poor attempt at flattening out wrinkles from its pristine fabric; the action's probable real purpose being to force its donner half an inch closer to the ground.
Other mothers and fathers around them are lovingly giving their children hugs and words of encouragement before they hop back onto to the ferries that return to the various cities and neighborhoods that they came from. Typical of what true parents should be doing for their children.
This mother musters a polite smile as people pass by the lefts and rights of them, obvious disgust in her eyes at the idea that she has to appear any more pleasant than she already is around others. Truly, she can't actually believe that that smile is fooling anyone, especially not for Agatha.
Evanora's ghastly grip lets go of the unfortunate seams, and Agatha straightens her posture again when she responds, "Yes, mother."
Dark, wavy hair curtains the right side of her face as ocean eyes dare not make further eye contact with the ones that threaten to sear holes right into her fair skin. The rest of Agatha's energy is spent on maintaining a relaxed stiffness in her sweating palms and twitching fingers that beg to be curled and tightened into itself. As silently as she can possibly manage, she slowly breathes in what little air she has access to through her nose and out again.
Agatha senses her mother straightening her own posture in kind, and its corresponding looming figure finally decides it's satisfied enough to take a singular step back towards the docks behind. Evanora wraps her yellowing white knit shawl around herself, her aloofness emanating through the high angle of her chin. Agatha bends down to pick up the carpet bag off the ground—the bag's unkempt, decrepit, and rugged condition exhibiting an accurate reflection of the owner that has so graciously lent it to her.
"I'll see you during winter break," and Agatha finally makes her escape from the hell that is Evanora Harkness.
Climbing up the smooth stone steps and passing under the archways of the university front gates, the campus welcomes her with a strange warmth that makes Agatha want to recoil and hide away in a dark, dusty corner somewhere. But she isn't going to let herself succumb to that. Not after all the work that she's put herself through to get to where she is now. Her mother may have had a heavy hand in pushing her into a grandiose school, but coming to Shiz was her choice and hers alone. Agatha is determined to see this through.
Following the crowds into the quad, Agatha finds an inconspicuous seat at the end of one of the middle rows, next to the aisle that leads to the podium. Her carpet bag is tucked underneath her seat, and she taps rhythmically on her brown leather crossbody bag, waiting patiently for the end of some speech that has yet to begin. Looking absentmindedly around her, she almost feels several eyes staring at her, hearing the whispers crash into each other. Maybe they're already talking and spreading rumours about her. Maybe they're not. Maybe she should try to stop feeling so self-conscious and just stare at the mural of Oz above her in an attempt at tuning out her surroundings. But all is in vain when her attention is caught by collective gasps and sounds of disbelief when they see a certain student waltzing her way into the quad through the entrance behind.
Unable to contain her own curiosity, Agatha turns her head around to take a peek. She finds herself looking at a brunette surrounded by many others fawning over her. She's wearing a version of the Shiz uniform, similar to that of Agatha's, but replace Agatha's tie for the girl's bow, Agatha's blazer with her knit vest, Agatha's grey pleated skirt matching her own, and Agatha's knee-highs lowering down to her crew. Agatha thinks she overhears the voices of many complimenting the girl's soft tan skin, her luscious locks of hair, her bright brown eyes, and that unnecessarily gorgeous smile.
"She's alright, I guess," Agatha mutters to herself.
Perhaps she feels Agatha's gaze on her because that was the moment when they lock eyes and she flashes an easy smile in Agatha's direction. Agatha hadn't even realized until now that her torso has been very obviously cheating towards her, her right arm hugging across the back of her seat to assist in this full body twist. Since coming to said realization, Agatha quickly turns back around, busies herself with straightening out her blazer, and stares at all the small crimps and creases of the leather bag that lay on her lap. Some may suggest that she feels flustered after getting caught staring, but Agatha will never admit it even if it kills her.
After what feels like an eternity to Agatha, the faculty finally prances down the aisle towards the podium, and the rest of the students scramble into what remaining seats straggle about for their orientation. There are about ten professors in attendance today, both human and Animal. As the one professor representing the rest finishes the last of his comments, he gestures towards the opening of the quad before him.
"And without further ado," he smiles, "Allow me to introduce our Dean, Madame Maximoff!"
The Dean strides into the quad, tall and poised with two hands clasped together in front of her. Her brilliant scarlet hair styled neatly in a half-bun skewed left with the ends draped over her shoulder. She wears a long brown-red coat that is settled flush against her waist with golden Shiz-engraved buttons all composite over a white collared shirt, the tails of her coat gliding gently through the draft left behind her. Her look is completed by an ascot scarf patterned with golden swirls, reminiscent of the ones that pattern the accents of students' uniforms.
The professor at the front steps aside and gestures for the Dean to take her rightful place at the podium, and seats himself behind her. Allowing herself some time to take in the newest group of freshman with her emerald eyes, Madame Maximoff speaks.
"Welcome new students," she begins, "And congratulotions for having been accepted to Shiz."
Madame Maximoff: one of the most well-known and respected sorceresses in Oz, and the only sorcery professor at Shiz. She was once a student at Shiz as well—her achievements had at first secured her a position as a professor soon after graduation, and then as Dean less than a decade later.
"Whether you are here to study law, logic, or linguification," she continues, "I know I speak for my fellow faculty members when I say that we have nothing but the highest hopes… for some of you." A pleasant smile spreads across her face as she articulates, but there is an unmistakable hint of patronization in her tone.
As her speech concludes, Madame Maximoff gestures for the Head Shiztress and Head Shizmaster to stand, take a bow, and begin the process of room assignments. They pull out their clipboards and the students start to shuffle out of their seats, eager to be assigned to room with their quickly established friends.
Agatha couldn't help but turn her head to the sound of giggles and squealing behind her where, of course, the girl from earlier is completely surrounded by people begging to room with her—some of whom are actually on their knees. The corner of her upper lip curl in repulsion to the sight. Agatha flings her head around so that the hair cloaking her shoulder flips widely and lays against her back, and she goes to grab her carpet bag from under the seat. But before her fingertips could even so much as graze the bag's handle, another hand takes hold of it, and she is face-to-face with a male student who gives her his best attempt at a charming smile and hands her bag over.
Agatha squints and hesitates an awkward "Thanks," snatching the bag out of his hands. His eyes keep chasing after hers, even though she has already looked away and heaved an evidently annoyed sigh. He seems to be dumbly smiling at himself in reaction to her adorable attempt at coming off as cold and standoffish.
"Name's Xander Choi," and extends his hand out in front of her. His short gleaming platinum-dyed hair grown longer towards the front is set sleek in a high arch above the right side of his forehead, falling delicately by his temple and glistening under the sun's rays. With flirtatious brown eyes, perfect teeth, and a strong jawline, most girls who lay their eyes on someone like him would find their knees grow weak. At least, that's what his smile is insinuating.
"Ugh," Agatha looks at his hand and purses her lips, making half a conscious effort to keep the corners of her mouth from pulling downwards. She starts to move around him towards the line up for her room assignment, but when she goes to walk past him, Xander catches Agatha by the crook of her arm, forcing her to stop and turn.
"Oh, come on," he coos, "Don't be like that. What's a guy got to do to get the attention of a beautiful girl such as yourself?"
Agatha feels every single hair along her body stand on end, and bile rising up her throat. "Please let me go," she growls. Behind him, she notices that there are three other boys standing at the other end of the row of seats, snickering and whispering amongst themselves at the situation. His friends, obviously.
"Ohh," he sings, "Feisty," and Agatha can feel her face flush, her entire body burning hot. This man has dared to think that he managed to get Agatha's face to go red with embarrassment. Oh, how he is sorely mistaken.
"I will not say this again," through gritted teeth, "Let. Me. Go." All Xander can do is smile devilishly at her, then glances over his shoulder at his friends. Except, his vision does not meet those of his friends standing in the distance. The dark seats of the quad fill his sights instead, as they ascend higher and higher into the air with no human or Animal assistance. His jaw hangs slack, his head whipping back to look at Agatha.
Her eyes are now full with a purple glow and she tilts her head slightly left, her free hand held out to the side and her spider-like fingers cradling a matching purple, misty light. If Xander had any galls to look closer, he will notice that all the floating chairs are wrapped by that same wispy purple that Agatha holds. His grasp cowers away from her and he has both hands up in surrender. "Hey, uh, I just wanted to be friends," his laugh pathetically sounding more like whimpers, "No need to get all dramatic."
With a twist of her magical hand, every single chair in the area collect above him and his friends, all of them now holding onto each other for dear life—a meteorite-sized clump ready to descend upon them because how dare he call her dramatic .
But she's better than that. She doesn't need some asshole to tell her what she is or isn't.
Agatha closes her eyes and draws in a long deep breath, focussing on letting go all the tension in her body, one muscle at a time. The chairs begin crumpling onto the ground without injuring anyone, but she isn't exactly able to put them back to where she found them, nor very gently for that matter. The final chair crashes onto the ground next to a mousey Xander huddled over himself, bracing his crown for impact and jumping at the thunderous sound that vibrates the stone tiles beneath him.
Another sigh and Agatha turns to proceed for her room assignments, unsurprised by the reaction in which she is now surrounded. Every living organism in the vicinity has plastered themselves against the campus walls, all far too stunned to breathe. Her mother's echo rings loudly in her ears to stay out of trouble, and here she is, already causing trouble before classes have begun. She wants to get out of here. Just turn tail and run to a place where no one knows her, and try again. There's got to be a restart button somewhere, right?
"You," a voice calls out in front of her, pulling Agatha out of the black hole of thoughts. All the attention has now been directed to Madame Maximoff, who steps into the empty space and moves towards her. "How did you do that?"
"I—" Already Agatha is trying to find some way to explain what had happened. The fear of judgement drowns her with feelings of inadequacy. She snaps her jaw shut and balls her fists, knowing that no matter what explanation she may have, she will be dismissed. Again. As such, "I'm sorry," is the only response that she can provide.
"No," Madame Maximoff takes another step forward. Agatha's eyes clench and she holds her breath. A pair of hands hold her tenderly on either side of her arms, and Madame Maximoff's firm voice declares, "Never apologize for your talent."
Agatha's eyes widen and they land right into Madame Maximoff's—absolute disbelief flows through her veins and she leans backwards. Taking note of her discomfort from the sheer proximity of her presence, Madame Maximoff moves back, just shy of an arm's length away from her. In response to regaining her personal space again, Agatha straightens. Her eyes are tempted to break away from the constant eye contact, but is never quite able to do so. There's a certain hold in Madame Maximoff's eyes that keeps her there. The silence between them agitates Agatha, yet buried deep beneath is a droplet of comfort.
"What's your name?" Madame Maximoff finally says.
"Agatha Harkness, ma'am."
"Agatha," her name hangs in the air as Madame repeats after her and commits it to memory, "I would like you to be my pupil. I had not planned to teach it this semester, but I will make an exception for you. I shall teach you anything and everything about sorcery, and take no other student."
And to that, Agatha's lips part in awe and the whispers around them finally begin again. Her? Of all people? Being taught by the Madame Maximoff? Surely that can't be right. This has to be a dream.
"Now then," Madame Maximoff smiles and turns her head, about to address the rest of the student body, "who would like to room with—"
"Madame Maximoff," this popular girl makes her way over towards them. "I don't think—"
"Ahh," Madame Maximoff looks over her shoulder, "and you are?"
"Rio Vidal, Madame. Now—"
"Perfect, Miss Rio, you can room with Miss Agatha."
Agatha and Rio both stare at each other, and then back at Madame Maximoff.
"No, Madame, wait," Rio protests, "I mean, I don't mind, but—"
"Then it is settled. As for you, Miss Agatha," Madame Maximoff turns to Agatha, determination and hope in her eyes, "I should like to see you in my office once you have settled in. We have much to discuss." And with the pivot of her heels, Madame Maximoff graces them with her gradual absence.
Agatha and Rio both watch as Madame Maximoff's back disappears behind the double doors of the main building. Agatha's sight lingers there, dazed by the sudden change of events, not hearing the cacophony of murmured shock that crescendos amongst students and faculty alike.
Rio, on the other hand, allows her eyes to rest under the darkness of her eyelids for a moment, and heaves a deep sigh. Opening her eyes to Agatha's flawless profile, she says, "I really don't think you should take Madame Maximoff on her offer."
To that, Agatha snaps her head in Rio's direction and eyes her suspiciously. She presses her lips together, unsure if she's more shocked at what her random new roommate had just said, or the fact that she has to talk to another person today. She hesitates, "Why's that?"
Rio leans in a little closer with a hushed tone, worried that someone may overhear her, "Madame Maximoff might be famous, but I've heard quite a few unsavoury rumours about her. I think it's best if you—"
"Oh, I get it," Agatha scoffs and crosses her arms, "You're jealous that I got taken under her wing and you didn't. Well, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and no one is taking that away from me."
"No, that's not what I'm trying to—" But before Rio can even finish her thought, Agatha gives her one last glare, and leaves to go figure out where their new room is going to be.
With the apparently very menacing and unfriendly Agatha now far enough away from Rio's vicinity, all those that consider themselves Rio's new besties scuttle over like a rookery of penguins, surrounding her, and talking over each other.
"Oh my god, Rio, I'm so sorry that you're stuck with that girl ," one of them says.
"Well, it can't be that bad—" Rio begins.
"You're such a saint to sacrifice yourself for the greater good!" Someone else chimes, "If you were my roommate, I would make sure you felt as safe as possible. I would even gladly let you take full advantage of my embraces if it so pleases you."
Rio rolls her eyes and shakes her head, "Honestly, you don't need to—"
"But I wanted to room with you!" Another complains, clinging to Rio's arm, "Ugh, Madame Maximoff is so unfair! She didn't even let you say what you wanted to say!" Not that this one was letting her say anything either.
Having had quite enough of this nonsense, Rio shimmies herself away from the crowd and jogs out of the quad to find a quiet place to just be. She comes to a small garden of flowers behind the dining hall and tucks herself away in a corner, out of sight, and hopefully, out of mind. She carefully plucks a purple tulip from the soil, interlacing the stem between her fingers and caressing its soft petals.
This is going to be a long year.