PeculiarChangeling
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Diaper U - Chapter 10
🕑 Added 2023-10-19 18:00:04 +0000 UTCAfter tossing and turning through his first night, trying to find a good way to lie down when there was unexpected and unwanted bulk rustling between his legs, Daniel had woken up crabby and late, with his bladder painfully full. With little time to get breakfast, he’d taken a shower–and peed in the shower, too, so he wouldn’t have to actually wet himself again–then changed into a fresh diaper as quick as he could and hurried to get to his first class.
He wasn’t the last one in the room, but it was close.
The Covenry Hall was one of the largest in the school, and with good reason. Covens required space to operate, necessitated large groups, and–of course–the class was fundamental to their education.
Or, well, it was fundamental to the witches’ educations. Daniel, a warlock, could have gone a couple years without ever needing to bother interacting with this field of magic. Still…it was on the syllabus of every student at Alphabeta, so he couldn’t exactly blow it off.
Arranged in many tiered sections that arced up so that every coven would have a good view of the teacher at the front, dozens of ten foot sections were separated by curved walls, so that the huge lecture hall reminded Daniel of the interior of a seashell. Each bubble contained five or six girls, sitting on beanbags that were arranged in a semicircle so that they could face each other while still seeing the front of the room.
Narrow staircases ran up the sides to reach each coven’s personal bubble. Looking around, Daniel tried to guess which one was his–he knew his covenmates’ names, but not their faces.
“Daniel Aster,” a voice to his right said, and Daniel almost jumped–he hadn’t noticed Professor Blackburn. She stood off to the side like an assassin ready to pounce; her black robes and black hat helped her blend into the blackboard that dominated the wall behind her.
He looked at her, trying to gauge if she was happy to see him. Surely she didn’t like him–the general vibe he’d gotten from faculty was vague disdain and outright hostility–but Blackburn’s expression seemed neutral and polite.
“Hello, Professor,” Daniel said, testing the waters of diplomacy. “I’m looking forward to learning under you.”
“A moment of your time,” she replied, cutting to the chase. “I know the comments some of my colleagues have made, but I want to be clear–once this conversation is over, I will expect you to behave just as any of my other students, and I will treat you no differently.”
“Thanks,” Daniel said, hesitating for a moment. “I think.”
“This means I expect you to perform as well as any other student,” Blackburn continued. “You call yourself a warlock, but I’m not teaching warlocks.”
“Warlocks can be in covens,” Daniel pointed out. “Typically only Covens of Eight, but still–covens.”
“That’s true.” Professor Blackburn’s eyes seemed to sparkle for a moment, flaring with amusement. “As the coven’s Focus, the fulcrum they pour their power into. A warlock leading a Coven of Eight can be a truly terrifying thing–one mage with that much power and the skill to use it is a rare thing. All the power of a coven, all the speed of an individual caster with scarcely seen mastery.”
“So,” Daniel said. “There shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Mmm. Daniel, don’t forget–there are five other witches in your coven, and you’ll be getting no special treatment,” Velma pointed out.
“So?” Daniel asked.
“So, why do you assume you’ll be chosen as your coven’s Focus?” Velma asked. “Or, I should say–a coven of six has no explicit Focus, so why do you assume you’ll be given such control?”
Before the conversation could move further, a light french accent sounding off at waist level caught Daniel’s attention. “You’re Daniel, right? We’re in the same coven.”
Daniel turned to look at the speaker–a girl with long, blonde hair sat in a subtly rune-marked wheelchair. He nodded. “I’m guessing you’re…I’m going to say Mathilde?”
“That’s right,” she said. “How’d you know?”
“Honestly, relying on stereotypes,” Daniel admitted. “You just sound like a Mathilde to me.”
“Well, I guessed on generalities too,” she conceded, smirking up at him.
“Not many boys in class,” Daniel agreed.
Glancing off away from him, Mathilde’s cheeks turned slightly pink. “That…wasn’t the first thing I noticed. Your skirt isn’t hiding much from my vantage.”
Daniel’s own face turned fully red, and he glanced between her and Blackburn. “Thanks for the talk, Professor–I promise I won’t be a problem.”
“I expect as much,” she replied. “Go join your coven, class will be beginning in a moment.”
Daniel almost asked, ‘Where are we seated,’ but Mathilde waved a hand forward. “We’re over here.”
Her chair moved on its own, wheels spinning with neither manual effort or an electric motor. Daniel watched the chair move for a moment, curious.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked, as the two of them moved across the front of the lecture hall, passing covens in their own little scooped-out bubbles.
She looked at him with uncertainty, and maybe a touch of suspicion. “That depends on the ‘something’.”
“How are you controlling the chair?” he asked. “I mean, it seems like psychic control, but even with constructs designed for the purpose, that’s…well, either you can control a construct without focusing on it, which is a wild level of precision, or you’ve got a trick I haven’t thought of.”
Her suspicion faded, replaced with a confident smirk. “How do you know I’m not focusing hard on it?”
“I mean…I guess I don’t, but it’d be pretty dumb on the part of the designers if it took your constant attention. At that point, you’d be better off with like…a remote control or a joystick or something.” Daniel shrugged. “So, I assumed there’s a trick I’m just not seeing to make it easier, since, well–it’s nice to be able to move and cast spells at the same time.”
“I’m controlling it directly, and there’s no trick to make it easier,” Mathilde explained, but she quickly added, “Though it’s not as impressive as you might think. You know how it takes babies months to go from ‘Awkwardly standing’ to ‘Walking without thinking about it’? This isn’t much different. And besides, can you?”
“Can I what?” Daniel frowned at her.
“Cast spells and walk at the same time,” Mathilde asked. “I mean…I wasn’t here for testing, but I heard you…struggled, a bit.”
Daniel blushed. “I can, just–never mind. Your control is impressive, is all I’m saying.”
Together, they made it to the bubble at the far end, where three girls waited. Mathilde nodded with a smile at the nearest girl, rolling her chair between a couple of the available beanbags. She exchanged a couple more greetings with the other two, pleasant and familiar; They all knew each other, Daniel was the only stranger.
So, taking off his pointy hat, he held it in front of himself for a moment and waved anxiously. “Hi. I’m Daniel.”
The girls eyed him, and every one save for Mathilde wore an expression that was tempered with uncertainty.
The first, whose smile said, ‘I’m trying to be polite’ while her eyes said, ‘What did we do to get stuck with him?’, introduced herself. “Soga Asami. I’m a Second year, same as Mathilde.” Asami wore her uniform skirt long, cut so that it was almost a mirror opposite of Daniel’s immodest miniskirt, with an earthy complexion and a faint Japanese accent. “They try to put a couple of us in every group, so there’s some more experienced women–eh, experienced witches, at any rate.”
“Historically, ‘Women’ and ‘Witches’ would be synonyms,” another girl added. She had blond hair that curled up around her neck in a very particular, just-so sort of way, and wore a sneer that looked just as carefully cultivated as the hair. “I’m just going on the record here, I did not come to the most prestigious Witches school in the world to get stuck with…y’know. You. If you shit yourself, I don’t care what Blackburn said about ‘working with each other’, you’re either going to leave or I’ll make you leave.”
“That’s Hazel, she’s always like that, it’s not you,” the third girl added. The only one so far to actually get up and offer a handshake, she wore her hair long, nearly down to the small of her back. “I’m Radha, and–I mean, if you do need to go, I’d appreciate giving the rest of us some space.”
Daniel started to respond, shaking her hand. “Thanks, but–like, I don’t actually need–”
“Take your seats,” Blackburn called from the front of the room. “Things are about to begin.”
Glancing around, Daniel asked, “Where’s… Cassandra, right? Our sixth?”
Radha shrugged. “Late.”
Daniel sat down on one of the two available beanbags, sinking slightly into it. He wanted the firm reassurance of a desk, but apparently this was how they did things–he’d have to put up with it for now. Turning his attention to their teacher, he waited.
Walking to the center of the room, Velma Blackburn raised out both her hands in a dramatic flourish. “Magic–”
“Sorry!”
The voice cut in from across the classroom, and the entirety of the lecture hall turned to look at the last girl approaching–a couple books clutched to her chest and a piece of toast held in her mouth.
“Sorry!” she repeated, scrambling across the room and hopping into the last beanbag in Daniel’s coven, sliding over next to him. Loud enough that Blackburn could hear, she added, “I had to get some books for this, and then I missed breakfast, and–yeah. Um. Sorry.”
Blackburn stared at her for a long moment. “Cassandra Clay,” she said. “Your tardiness is not our concern. Delaying class by explaining tardiness, however, is.”
“Sorry,” Cassandra repeated, sinking into the bag a little deeper as though she might shrink from the professor’s gaze.
“Now,” Blackburn repeated. “Magic…”
She began a monologue about the importance of covens, the history of witchcraft, a whole spiel, but Daniel’s attention was focused on the latecomer. Leaning in, Cassandra whispered to Daniel, “I’m Cassie, I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Daniel,” he replied. “Are you a second year?”
She shook her head. “You?”
“First, and I hope only,” he explained.
“Shut up,” Hazel snapped.
They shut up.
“The construction of the coven is one as old as magic,” Blackburn was explaining, turning, moving her wand through the air and twirling a piece of chalk on the huge blackboard behind her. A tiny motion of her wand made the chalk fly, inscribing a perfect circle. “It takes fundamental concepts, sharing the power that we all depend on. These are the fundamental forms of magic–the Wheel, or the Circle, being the most basic. The symbol that contains power so that it can be shaped and released into the world.”
Moving her hand again, she marked a five pointed star, the kind kids learned to draw by marking five lines without picking up their crayons–though hers was, again, smooth and perfect, each angle exact, with the points of the star touching the inside rim of the circle.
“The pentagram,” Blackburn continued. “A channel, moving magic how you desire, and together these two form a pentacle–contained, controlled magic. Each point represents power–From the leftmost point, clockwise, Earth, Aether, and Aqueus, the physical elements, then the two legs, Spirit and Mind, for the mortal elements. But for all the power these carry, that alone is no coven, for that, you need a sixth.”
Finally, drawing back in preparation, she waited, letting the anticipation build. Once certain her audience was rapt, she flicked the wand forward, and the chalk broke into five pieces, marking five lines from the perfect center of the chalkboard out to each point of the pentagram.
“The Familiar.” Blackburn’s voice was quiet for a moment. “Some of you may shy away from this role, because the Familiar wields none of her own power, but without her, you cannot cast a single spell. The Familiar carries magic she cannot wield. She is the wellspring that your might is drawn from, she is the conduit that your thoughts are carried through, she is the vessel in which you must place your confidence, because in you she will demand utter trust, because in you she will rely on your skill, because while she’s acting as your Familiar she will not be able to cast a spell. Never forget the burden placed upon your Coven’s Familiar, and never take her for granted.”
She let that hang for a moment–apparently, that was the end of her speech, too.
“Your first lesson will be simple,” she explained. “You will each take turns acting as each point of your pentagram, and as your Familiar. Form a circle, orient yourselves, and open your minds to share your power. By the end of our lesson, I will expect each of you to have experienced every place in your coven, from the raging Aether to the helpless Familiar.”
A moment of further silence passed, and she frowned as though surprised by their reactions.
“Well?” Blackburn demanded. “What are you all waiting for? Begin.”
