As they walked in silence, James noticed, with some uneasiness, the darkness closing in around them as they moved nearer to the mountain. By the time they entered a thick patch of evergreen trees, the sun had sunk behind the mountain, casting them into darkness. James found that he and Elizabeth were walking closely together, beside Xavier as they traversed the wooded area.

Hoots and whoops of strange sounding animals drew James’ attention on occasion, making him jump violently. On they walked, with the awful, fearful, sounds all around them, seeming to come from all sides, as the gloom deepened. James didn’t think he’d ever felt so uncomfortable in his life. After what seemed like an eternity, he began to see an end to the forested area, and a rocky outcropping that was more than likely the side of the mountain.

It was something of a relief!

Suddenly, Xavier stopped and held up a hand, signalling James and Elizabeth to do the same. A strange, long, howling call – almost like a mourning cry of agony – sounded from deep within the forest, making James’ skin crawl.

‘Wands out!’ Xavier instructed in a forceful whisper. 

A haunting noise groaned from within the forest, close by. 

Too close!

Xavier motioned James and Elizabeth off the path they’d been travelling on, into inky blackness the woods. There they stood, silently, in the shadow of the trees and brush that unevenly clung to the side of the road.

‘Don’t make a sound,’ Xavier whispered staring at them. The darting of his eyes and the shaking of his hands did nothing to encourage James, who felt his own hand gripping his wand tightly. ‘If I say so, you must try and make your way to the mountain as fast as possible… Do not wait for me. Just go!’ The Centaur said with firmness. 

Xavier looked away as an eerie howling sound drew nearer.

There was movement on the path ahead of them. James felt his heart skip as the forms slowly made their way along the path towards them. He could make out the shapes of three women in plain, brown, dresses, leisurely and menacingly, moving closer. Their gestures were ethereal, and unnatural. Mist crawled at their feet, churning and expanding as they walked in synchronised step. James could hear the women chanting in a hollow voice, as if the words had become like breathing to them. As they grew closer, James heard the chant clearly, although he couldn’t understand what they meant.

‘Niþ! Heolstor! Cwalu! Geap! Hlifian Leas Cyning!’

The words repeated over and over, and James, frozen in place, only wanted to melt into the shadows and run. Oppressive fear collapsed on his mind, growing stronger with every step these women took.

They were so close now. James could make out their long, black hair that flowed about as if suspended in water, moving, ghostly, constantly. As the women walked past James, Elizabeth, and Xavier – who remained concealed in the shadows – James started upon seeing the faces of the women; haunted, removed, and pale, but otherwise beautiful. Their eyes were rolled back in their heads in an unnatural manner, and a wispy dark smoke trickled out of the corners of their eyes like tears. 

James shuddered, a sinking sense that there was nothing good in the world trickled through him, the oppressive darkness reaching a crescendo. He felt angry; he didn’t know why, but just the same, a deep sense of hate seeped into him. 

The haunting forms drifted off into the darkness of the forest, and with them, the feelings that had so come over James. He shivered in horror, as the sensation drifted away from him. He glanced to see Elizabeth, a dark, fearful, expression on her face, her eyes twinkling with unshed tears.

‘Are you alright?’ James whispered shakily, grabbing her hand. 

Elizabeth nodded slowly, before whispering back her answer, ‘Fine. I’m fine.’ She squeezed James’ hand tightly, gripping her wand in the other. 

Xavier turned to look at them, wide eyed, but in seemingly better spirits than they.

‘Witches,’ he said, answering their unasked. ‘The Three Witches; they’re engrossed in Black Magic,’ he explained, leading James and Elizabeth back out onto the pathway. They, of course, hesitated before following. 

Xavier went on, saying, ‘They may well be some of the most dangerous people in the whole area.’

They started out again, toward the mountain, slower than before, cautious, as if expecting other more terrible things to leap out of the gloom.

‘What were they chanting?’ Elizabeth asked after a time. 

Xavier didn’t answer at first; perhaps gathering his thoughts. The companions stepped out of the treed area, into the pale, comforting, blue, moonlight. Xavier stopped and turned to James and Elizabeth.

‘Niþ, Heolstor, Cwalu, Geap, Hlifian Leas Cyning,’ he said, looking uneasy.

‘What’s it mean?’ James put in after a silent moment.

‘It’s black magic chant… a prayer if you will,’ Xavier explained, pulling the hood of his robe down so it flopped into a motionless position about his shoulders. ‘It’s in a very peculiar form of old English – as are quite a few spells that you have no doubt already mastered. The chant is in two parts, the opening, and the request,’ he continued, as they started to move towards the mountain again. The skinny pathway was much easier to see now in the bright moonlight. 

‘The opening speaks of their beliefs; the request… Well, I think that it is quite obvious what that is about.’ He paused again, before continuing, as if contemplating whether or not he should indulge them with the answer. Xavier brushed his long black hair out of his eyes; then continued. ‘The opening says: Hate, Darkness, Death, Deceit. As I said before, these are their beliefs, their wills, their hopes.

‘The second part is the request, it has been the same for hundreds of years: Hlifian Leas Cynin,’ Xavier stopped briefly and looked at James and Elizabeth in turn. ‘It means: Rise up False King.’ 

James shook his head in confusion, unsure of what it meant. But when pressed for more information, Xavier merely smiled and said, ‘We’re nearly there,’ and nothing more. 

The cave that gave entrance to the mountain was noticeably warmer than the cool night; not that James had disliked the cool breeziness outside, but a break from the wind was welcomed by his cold hands. The entrance chamber of the cave was damp. A faint dripping could be heard in the distance. Xavier’s hooves clattered against the stone floor, echoing through the dark caverns. The Centaur flicked his wand and a line of torches along the wall leaped into life, their warm, orange, flames lighting the way ahead.

An uneasy silence fell on the group as they walked; but James could think of nothing to say, so he too remained quiet. It took a few minutes of walking through the twisting tunnels, but they were rewarded, finally, at the sight of a familiar doorway into a large, cavernous, room. James had forgotten just how large the room really was. He could see it stretching out in every direction, a large, circular room, seemingly carved from the stone. Straight across from the threshold of the opening where they stood, were placed the stone statues of two wand-crossed Gatekeepers. To his left, the round, oak, table looked the same as the last time James had been here; save be for a small pile of odds and sods sitting in its centre.

‘Horace Bleggard!’ Xavier called commandingly as he stepped into the chamber, his voice echoing off the stone. 

Elizabeth followed Xavier, but James held back for a moment, before stepping, slowly, into the room. 

‘Horace Bleggard!’ the Centaur called again, his wand still in his hand. There was a scuffling sound from behind one of the boarded up tunnels, then the old, unwrinkled, face of the Gatekeeper peeked through a hole in the boarding.

‘What does you want?’ he asked grumpily looking at the Centaur with an air of malice about him.

‘I have brought Elizabeth Hartwell and James Newt for their first lesson,’ Xavier explained, carefully watching the small man.

Horace tilted his head, peeking out of the hole a bit more. ‘Oh,’ he said, catching sight of James and Elizabeth, ‘is it the thirty-firsts?’ the ragged old Warlock asked, his head quivering, with what James assumed must be glee.

‘It is All Hallows Eve, yes,’ Xavier replied, emotionless. 

The Gatekeeper’s head vanished from the hole in the boards as quickly as it appeared. There were sounds of rummaging around, and Horace carrying on loudly as if no one could hear him.

‘Stupid Horace!’ he growled. This was followed by a bang and Horace swearing. ‘Calendar is too olds! Never knowing what day it is!’ he bellowed from behind the wooden partition. Loud, angry mumbling followed this last outburst, and James could see a few pieces of clothing and other possessions fall in front of the tunnel entrance, leading James to believe Horace was throwing things.

‘AHAH!’ He exclaimed, much happier than before. There was a short silence; then Horace’s ugly head appeared at the hole in the partition again, smiling wickedly. ‘Welcome,’ he said warmly, slowly crawling out of the hole. 

James had to admit, Horace looked much less foreboding than at their first meeting, he was no longer in rags, but in an old suit that was much too big for him. The sleeves on the arms had been hastily and raggedly cut off; the legs, however, were still about two feet too long.

‘Hello,’ Elizabeth offered feebly. 

Horace smiled brightly at her. ‘You are Elizabeth?’ he asked. 

Elizabeth nodded uncomfortably.

‘And you are James?’ Horace asked, to which James nodded. Horace smiled, but when Elizabeth took a step back, he stopped, and looked to his feet. ‘I did not mean to scares you,’ he insisted.

James furrowed his brow at this show of reservation by the sad little man. When they’d first met him, he’d been horrifying in word and appearance, but now…

He was almost pleasant.

James didn’t know if he should be thankful for the change, or terrified by it. For Horace’s part, he simply looked the two young ones over and frowned.

‘What is you wearing?’ He asked, revolted. 

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow as she looked herself over. ‘It’s just the daywear from the Orphanage,’ she explained looking concernedly to James and Xavier. Horace shook his head and pointed at the cloaks that hung over their uniforms. ‘Not those! Thems cloaks!’ he said sticking out his tongue and making a noise to show his displeasure.

‘Just some travel cloaks,’ James said, feeling the thin coarse material in his fingers.

Horace shook his head insistently. ‘No, no! They haves to go!’ The small man then reached into his old suite jacket and produced an oddly shaped stick and waved it twice. The cloaks floated off of James and Elizabeth into Horace’s hands. He made one last disgusted face and then promptly began to tear the cloth into pieces.

‘Horace, don’t!’ Xavier tried, but it was much too late to save the thin material.

‘Theys need more protections than those can give!’ Horace insisted, kicking at the black cloth that lay on the dusty ground. ‘I’m will make them something better,’ he insisted, picking up the material and stuffing it in his jacket pocket. 

Xavier eyed Horace suspiciously, but said nothing.

‘Are you readys to learn?’ the Gatekeeper asked after a time. 

James looked at Elizabeth, who seemed as unsure as he did. After a moment though, they both nodded.

‘Wands out if yous please,’ Horace smiled raising his own, like a conductor.

The next hour and a half was strange indeed. Horace was much more pleasant than they expected, but would have occasional mood swings; usually after James or Elizabeth had done something incorrectly. On such occasion, Horace would pout for a few moments before the lesson would continue. 

The magic that he was attempting to teach James and Elizabeth was far beyond anything that they had thought would be their focus. Horace spent at least fifteen minutes explaining a concept of magic that was absolutely incomprehensible to James – Elizabeth even finding it difficult to understand.

Horace finally dismissed them after they had both been able to make a bright red flower catch fire, burn to ash, then reconstitute as brilliantly as in the beginning.

‘There is a books in my libbarby, you needs to read it before our nexts lessons; it is called “Simple Majiks”,’ Horace said, slightly annoyed that Elizabeth and James had not been able to perform most of what he had asked them to. 

Xavier had stood watching throughout the whole lesson, keeping his eyes on Horace, but smiled weakly as James and Elizabeth gathered their things to leave.

‘I’ll have yous cloaks for you by next lesson,’ Horace promised. James smiled back, feeling many of his reservations of the Gatekeeper drifting away. There was something special about this odd man. Elizabeth waved goodbye to him as they started away, led by Xavier, who seemed more than a little happy to be leaving. Horace beamed at them until they were out of sight.

‘That wasn’t so bad,’ Elizabeth offered, nudging James playfully in the side. 

‘Yeah I guess not,’ he admitted.

‘So, what did you learn?’ Xavier asked, interested. 

James smiled. ‘You were there. You heard everything we did.’ 

Xavier shook his head. ‘Horace put a curse on my ears; I couldn’t hear anything but 80’s Rock since Horace said he would make you new cloaks.’

‘Why didn’t you say anything? We would have got him to stop,’ Elizabeth insisted. 

Xavier shrugged. ‘I liked the music.’ 

The journey back to the Orphanage was quiet. More silent than the trek to the mountain, at least. No hooting or strange howling met their ears, and James was terribly happy when they had no brush with the Three Witches again.

As they reached the Orphanage, the three were in good spirits, laughing and joking as they made their way up the steps to the main entrance. 

Silence suddenly gripped the companions as they noticed the great wooden doors strewn on the floor before them, as if they’d been torn right off of their hinges. Slowly stepping into the mansion, a terror that James had never felt before rushed over him like a wave.

The place was in a horrifying state, decorations and ornaments were spread all over the entrance way. A small pile of pictures sat smoldering in the corner. There were groups of students huddled together throughout the entrance; some of whom teachers were escorting upstairs towards the dormitories. 

Fletcher came bustling towards James, Elizabeth, and Xavier, his pale blue robes ripped and burned. He had a look of terror, mingled with relief, as he hurried up to them.

‘Xavier, thank God you’re back!’ Fletcher cried, wide-eyed, shifting his gaze between the Centaur and the open doorway. ‘They were here, Xavier. Here!’ 

‘Who was here?’ Elizabeth asked, her own voice shaking. 

Fletcher ran a trembling hand down his face, smearing tears into his beard. ‘The Three Witches!’ he explained. ‘They’ve just attacked. A child is dead!’

James felt his stomach drop out from underneath him as the sobbing of the students became the only sound in the now cold and bitter night.