50/50

In dreams, bones danced. Flowers bloomed in the eyes of a murderer, but withered on vines that instead grew hearts, beating a rhythm out to the sound of an ungodly scream.

Nash groaned as the cat yowled. It was 6am in the land of the living, and if Nash wanted to be clean before classes started, they had to wake up at the dark side of dawn.

One burning hot shower and a breakfast later, Nash stood at the gates of Emrys Preparatory for Young Witches and Wizards. It was an odd mishmash of architecture. The original building had been a squat fortress, something that could have been taken for a watchtower on a dark night, with a single large entryway, thick wooden double doors. Various administrations had since added their own aesthetic flourishes. The administrative wing, built in the Tudor style, bumped up against the ornate, Victorian-era Modern Astrology Tower, which was dwarfed by a brutalist wing -probably the cafeteria and associated labs. And, of course, the elaborate Grecian motifs on the low wall enclosing the courtyard where the throng of hopefuls had congregated for the admissions exam.

“Do you think you’ll make the cut?”

Nash jumped, startled. The speaker, standing in the dew-damped grass, had a worried face surrounded by frizzy green hair, and was chewing on a stick of gum rapidly.

“Ah… yeah, maybe. I hope,” Nash said. The green-haired speaker chewed nervously on and said, “I mean, my mum says dad was a wizard, but I think he was making it up to impress her, you know?” The speaker dug into a pocket and pulled out a gum pack. “Want some?”

“Er… sure.”

A voice cut through the sounds of the crowd. “Alrighty kiddos, queue up!” Nash looked around; the doors to the school hadn’t opened yet, and not everybody seemed to have heard. They shrugged, and, along with the kid with the frizzy green hair, started towards the front.

Once the last prospective student was in line, the doors swung open and the trials began.

Some of the students, those whose families had elected to join the Registry generations ago, had received their letters and were shunted to private rooms, where their level of skill could be tested. Most of the remaining students were dreamers, kids who had heard tales of magic or seen somebody in action, but whose families had never yet produced a magician.

And then there was Nash.

As the line shortened -the inevitably disappointed walking off in a huff, or bursting into tears, or just walking quietly away -a shine had begun to spread over the building. Mum had told Nash about this, and had fixed their specs so that it wouldn’t give them a headache when they got too close. Still, every so often they had to rub their eyes.

“Don’t worry,” hissed the green-haired kid from behind Nash. “I’m so nervous I could cry too.”

“I’m not -” Nash began, but was cut short as the young woman in front of them was shunted off to a group of students waiting in the hallway. The examiner, who glowed brightly in Nash’s eyes, beckoned them forwards; as Nash stepped up, they blinked rapidly to clear their gaze as the glow briefly grew to encompass Nash and all sound from the outside world fell away.

“Name?”

“Nash.”

“Family name?”

“Er…” the tricky part. Mum had warned Nash she would curse them with her dying breath if they took her name to the school. “None.”

The examiner raised his right eyebrow. “None? As in, you have none, or your family name is, in fact, none?”

Nash felt their face getting warm. “My mum would kill me if I told. Sir.”

The examiner raised his left eyebrow. “One of those sorts, is she? Doesn’t trust the confidence of the Registry?”

“Not as such. Sir.”

The examiner sighed. “You’re the second one today, too. Well, out with it. Why are you here?”

“Because I’m a solid 50% sure I’m a wizard.” And Mum told me if I didn’t get some training I’d be the death of her, they added mentally.

“And the other 50%?”

“Witch. Sir.”

The examiner raised both eyebrows but made no comment. It wasn’t until they were walking towards the group of new students huddled in the hallway that they processed the fact that the examiner had accepted them. Relief washed over them and their legs turned to jelly as they approached the other kids.