Aubrey surveyed the damage and decided he was better off well away from the Magic Laboratories tonight. Not that he'd be accused of anything, he assured himself as he slipped into the darkness. It was just that he'd made a number of disparaging remarks about the window and had often mused about the best way to rid the school of it.
He struggled against the wind and made his way to dark and silent Clough Hall, the oldest part of the school. It was a gaunt Gothic monstrosity, a collection of towers, steeples and pointed arches. Its upper reaches were the home of thousands of pigeons in a state of constant warfare with the groundskeepers, one division of which had the sole job of trying to keep the dark slate roof as free of white streaks as possible. It was a futile task.
Clough Hall was used as the assembly hall for the school. Its main hall was filled with wooden seats legendary for their hardness, despite centuries of being smoothed by the rear ends of schoolboys. A gallery looked over the ranks of seats, but it was strictly OUT OF BOUNDS to students. It was for the use of parents and dignitaries, once or twice a year, to endure prizegiving or the school play.
Aubrey was seriously keen about the stage. Ever since he'd been at Stonelea he'd been part of the school productions, playing everything from a tree stump to a murderous librarian. He'd worked backstage, helping to paint backdrops and haul sets. He'd swept, cleaned, prompted, sewn and applied makeup. He'd fumbled lines, gone blank and tripped on props. He'd made entrances, sung in the chorus and revelled in applause – something he adored.
In this, his final year at Stonelea, he was looking forward to The Barrister's Lament, a chance for a grand finale to the acclamation of parents, staff and students.
Aubrey found a door at the rear of the building and slipped into the crowded space behind the stage. It was full of canvas, rope and timber, the remains of productions from years gone past. He conjured up a small glow globe with a spell he'd perfected through repetition. It used an application of the Law of Aspiration, and Aubrey's clipped, careful syllables conjured an orb the size of his hand. It floated at his gesture and cast a soft, golden light on a rolled-up backdrop. He recognised the storm-tossed sea from Sailors of the King, which was used again in The Adventures of Sir Augustus Frog before making a surprise appearance as a dream backdrop in A Night of Memories. Aubrey shuddered when he remembered how his part in that play required him to sing a duet with Mrs De Winter, the sweet-voiced but vast wife of the Geography Master. George had later remarked that he was afraid that Aubrey was going to be eaten, so wide did Mrs DeWinter open her mouth when straining for the high notes.
Aubrey started to make his way to one of the small rooms off the main hall. He'd used it for some of his experiments before and it was private enough – and solid enough – for his purposes. But he paused. Was that a sound? With a word, he extinguished the glow globe. Carefully, he felt his way past boxes of costume remnants and trunks of wigs, scarves and other accoutrements, making his way to where he'd heard the sound. Probably some third-formers having a secret feast, he thought and decided it was his duty as a sixth-former to throw a decent scare into them, as it would be theirs when they were sixth-formers. It was traditions such as this, Aubrey reflected with a grin, that made Albion great.
Judging from the crashes and stifled oaths, the intruder wasn't entirely familiar with the cluttered confines. And it wasn't one of the more magically talented boys, either, or else he wouldn't be blundering around in the dark.
Light flared. Aubrey stood back behind a tattered fishing net as the intruder held a match high and peered around. Aubrey smothered a laugh as the match burned quickly and singed the intruder's fingers, followed by more oaths – less stifled this time. He summoned his glow globe again. 'Stay there, George,' he called. 'You're right next to the throne of the fairy queen from Aurelia. Topple that on top of you and you'll regret it.'
Aubrey clambered over to join his friend, who looked as if he'd been on his way to visit the King, discovered he was wearing someone else's trousers and it was now too late to do anything about it. 'Ah, Aubrey. You're here too.'
Aubrey shrugged. 'I was about to try a few things.'
'I take it these would be unauthorised magical experiments?'
'Only if you were being picky.'
'I see. I'd expect as much, finding you skulking around Clough Hall in the dark like this.'
Aubrey raised an eyebrow. 'Skulking? And how would you describe your movements?'
George looked around at the tangled, jumbled, cluttered space that surrounded them. 'Boyd says his sister is coming to visit next weekend. I thought I might take her on a tour of the school.'
'Boyd? Fifth form? Tall, dark hair, good painter and –'
'Extremely ugly. Yes, that's him. Nice chap.'
'And you want to show his sister around the school?'
'It's amazing,' George enthused, 'how heredity works. Boyd is grotesque – hideous, really – but his sister is heart-stoppingly attractive. Red hair, freckles, quite lovely.'
'I thought you were more interested in country girls, husky milkmaids, that sort of type.'
George drew himself up. 'I may be from the country, Aubrey, and I may have done my best to uphold the traditions of country friendliness and hospitality among the female folk in our district, but I'll have you know that I'm an admirer of all members of the opposite sex. Bless them all.' He grinned. 'And bless Boyd for bringing his sister next weekend.'
Aubrey grinned in response. George was incorrigible. He enjoyed the company of females with a fervour that was only matched by the enthusiasm they had for him. The life he'd led on the Doyle farm had given him an aura of extraordinary good health and vigour that they found highly attractive.
Aubrey admired him. 'Good luck, George. Don't let me keep you from your scouting expedition.'
George thrust his hands in his pockets. 'I don't think I'll bring her here, though. Too dusty.' He squinted at Aubrey. 'So you're about to do some experimenting?'
Aubrey patted his satchel. 'I could be onto something.'
'Dangerous?'
'Perhaps.'
'I'd better come and keep an eye on you, then. Besides, I might learn something.'
'George, you're probably the least magical person I know. I think the school dog has a better chance of learning magic than you do.'
'Probably. Let's just say I'm interested. Which way?'
Aubrey's destination had once been a small office, longer than it was wide. It opened from the entrance vestibule at what was now the rear of the main hall. Its walls were solid stone, while its slanted ceiling was a good eighteen feet overhead. One small window, with diamond-shaped panes of glass, opened onto the night sky but Aubrey pulled heavy, blue velvet curtains across it, turned on the electric light, and dismissed his glow globe. The floor was parquetry, but most of it was covered with a worn rug of vaguely Eastern design. The only furniture was a rectangular table made of dark wood, with four mismatched chairs around it.