"Miss Lulamoon," calls a bland, authorive voice from beyond Trixie's bedroom door.
With a laggy slump, she rolls out of bed and shuffles over. The door opens to reveal Professor Inkwell. She towers over Trixie, her nose raised as she scans the room. Unable to find whatever she was looking for, her gaze falls to Trixie with a deep and seething anger hidden behind it. It's rather amazing the Professor is able to compose herself with such a temper boiling up, but the school hasn't earned such a sensible reputation for nothing.
"I believe you have some explaining to do about yesterday afternoon, yes?"
Trixie nods. Like a puppy who got caught, her ears and head hang low in the silence. Then she realises the Professor is waiting for that explanation now.
"Uh, to be perfectly honest ma'am... I don't really have one. Everyone was laughing at me and I sort of... Just ran off."
Inkwell sighs, "I'm sure you under a bit of stress from your studies, however, you must not let that affect your schooling. Am I clear?"
"It's not," Trixie stammers defensively.
"Oh?"
"They had nothing to do with me running off."
"Then what?"
"I--"
Trixie suffocates her own voice as the fear shrinks her. Now she feels smaller than a bug and almost wished to shrink further until she disappeared.
"Is everything okay?"
Trixie shakes her head. Then Inkwell seems to catch on. At least in part. She pushes past Trixie to grab a quill and parchment.
"Here, it might be easier to write it," she says in a tone that, while hadn't lost its usual stoic-ness, was comforting.
Unsure what to do, Trixie wrote Rotten Apple and Floribunda's name. A brow on Professor Inkwell's face raises as the rest of her face hardened.
"Have they... Been picking on you?"
Trixie nods.
"Very well, I shall handle it this instant," the fire in her eyes reigniting as a new target appears.
"No," bellows Trixie as both Inkwell and she feel a bit of shock at the outburst, "I want to... I want to do it. That's why I've been working hard. They call me blank flank, call me stupid, but I want to show them. Ma'am, my lessons are going great. Just a little more and I can prove them wrong."
Professor Inkwell's expression turns to stone as she evaluates Trixie. Her eyes remind Trixie of another set of eyes. Eyes that seem to be reading her thoughts, that evaluate every fibre of your being, and know exactly what to do next.
"Very well," she finally utters with a bit of hesitation, "But I will not allow it to carry on much longer. If there no improvement in your skills by the end of the week, I shall step in."
"You'll see ma'am--"
"No, I will not. As a teacher of this establishment, I am required to put a stop to this. I am not permitted to give you as many liberties as I have. But there are special... Circumstances. Tell Anonymous you want to take the exam by the end of the week. He will understand."
Then without another word or even a change for Trixie to get one in herself, Inkwell walks off.
As soon as school finishes, Trixie darts for Anon's place. Her hooves hit the ground hard in order to make as much progress as possible, not even a lack of air slows her down. So when she arrives on the doorstep, the dizziness catches her. Heavy panting attracts the golem, Clay, who places a soft hand on Trixie's back. Likely he is trying to be comforting, though he ends up getting clay soil in her mane. Trixie doesn't mind too much. There's something about Clay that makes Trixie think of a living doll. It's hard for any child to get angry at a living toy.
Clay's earthen face looks at her, expressionless as she finally gets air into her lungs. Then she notices a bunch of blue flowers on Clay's back. They look a little like wizard caps. Just like the one Trixie free yesterday.
"Clay, are those... My flowers?"
A great sluggish arm lumbers upwards to pluck on then carefully placed it behind Trixie's mane.
"Aren't you sweet," she remarks as her heart swells with flattery.
She never did have a chance to admire them. Let alone look at them. One moment she was focusing on her magic, then she woke up in school. Now she was able to look at them in the light as they away in a gentle breeze on the golem's back. In an odd way, Trixie feels they suit being up there.
Then an explosion comes from inside.
"Anon?" A panicked squeak manages to come from Trixie.
Clay straightens up and moves around the back at a pace that is quick for him but still rather slow. The ground still shakes as the golem slams his oak tree trunk sized legs on the ground. Trixie goes through the door and runs over the other side of Anon's main room to find one wall is covered in a black soot. Two eyes appear from the ashes then spectate from the rest of the room.
"What was that?!" Anon's voice shouts from the walking charcoal.
"What did you do?" Trixie sighs with relief, doing her best to make it sound like an exasperated sigh.
Clay appears from the back door, the doorway being much larger, and begins to dust Anon off.
"Yes, yes. Thank you, Clay. I had a bit of an... Oversight."
On the table is, beneath all the ash, flutters a small red bird. It tries to give a squawk but only manages a suffocated squeak. The little baby bird looks at Trixie, tilts its head and then tries to come towards her. Once it reaches the end of the table it looks down, unsure of how to traverse the fall.
"Woah," Trixie stammers as she pushes the little bird away from the edge.
It gives a little ruffle of its feathers but accepts its place.
"I think I fed him too much at once," Anon says as he returns to his seat, "Watch out for phoenix burps, I'm telling you that now."
He chuckles and starts putting away all the utensils he was using. Those eyes watch Trixie as she stares at the bird. Only in the furthest corner of her eye does she notice the stare, then she looks at the Phoenix again.
"Arcturus?"
"What?"
"As a name?"
"Well, I thought I'd give it a go," Anon guffaws, "But this is probably better. I like it. Where did you get that one?"
"It's a star, a red giant I think."
Anon nods, "Not so great at magic, but you're good at astrology?"
"Astronomy."
"That's what I said," he immediately replies as he brushes a few crumbs out of his beard.
Trixie shakes her head, not interested in arguing.
"I'm not that good at it... Professor Inkwell," Trixie's heart sinks at the name, "Says it's important for magic, so I tried studying it a lot to get better."
"What rubbish. How is a great big ball of screaming fire a way's away going to help you with magic?"
"Screaming? Stars don't scream," Trixie remarks, taking the bait.
"Oh? Have you used a telescope before?"
Trixie nods firmly. Determined not to let this one slide.
"And did it come with sound?"
Trixie opens her mouth then lets it hang there for a moment as she thinks. She wants to argue this. Every fibre of her being is screaming that he is wrong and not every bit of Anon's ridiculousness can be let go. But her head tells her that she hasn't got a shred of evidence. Trixie closes her mouth and concedes.
"I didn't become a powerful wizard by just ignoring the plight of stars."
"Why do they scream then?"
"They are on fire, and the gas smells dreadful."
Trixie takes a seat where she stands as she tries to work out another question that will lead him to trip up. But when no such question comes to mind, she groans and falls backwards.
"So... When are going to tell me what's wrong?"
"How did--" Trixie lifts her heads and catches Anon's watchful eyes. She decides against finishing the question, guessing she'd likely end up with a boast. "Professor Inkwell came to check on me today."
"Oh, boy. What does miss fussy cakes want?"
Trixie snickers, forgetting her glum mood for the slightest moment before her face hardens when she continues speaking.
"She says I need to show improvement by the end of the week."
"Oh," Anon raises one brow and furrows the other, "and if you don't?"
"She'll step in and... Stop Rotten Apple and Floribunda's bullying."
Trixie a voice trails off a little as she realises how ridiculous that sentence sounds. She had been so disheartened that she hadn't taken any time to step back and look at how odd the situation is.
"And... This is... Bad?"
"I told her I wanted to sort the problem out myself," she groans.
"So you've got a plan?"
"No," Trixie groans again, this time drawing it out for a time.
Anon begins stroking his beard, as always when he thinks. While the wizardly human gets lost in deep contemplation, Trixie rolls about with a few grunts and groans. Her hooves flail about, and her face drags on the floor. Trixie isn't entirely sure herself what she is doing, but she has never been sure of anything else she does either.
"What about..."
"Yes?" Replies Trixie eager to outsource her thinking and plotting.
"What about a duel? You'll need to organise it to be behind a building or faculty where the teachers won't think to look. But... Yes, I believe that'd work."
"Like a magic duel? Anon... You have noticed how bad I am at magic, right?"
"Nonsense. You've got the method down perfectly. A natural if I do say so myself. It's just practice you need, the rest will come after."
There's something about the way Anon talks. No matter what he says, especially the silly and over the top nonsense, he says it with such a conviction that Trixie finds hard to doubt. And if Anon thinks Trixie can do it, then why can't she? Still, there's still a high level of nerves that rock Trixie about but there's less than if this idea was her own.
"Are you sure you should encourage that, shouldn't you tell me to do something... I don't know, admirable?"
"No, no. I'm far too immature for that. Come on, let's practice for a duel," Anon gleefully beams.