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Freya had not skipped breakfast.
The headmaster was a psychopath and Freya was not falling for that trick again. After all - you didn’t attend the university for ten years without getting wise to the old bastards tricks. She remembered distinctly her first year officially attending as a student - stomach rumbling, clutching Master Royle’s hand and practically quaking with terror, she’d been told they’d get a good meal once they arrived. What she had not been told, was that they’d have to wait two hours to get it because ‘It tastes better when your hungry!’.
Madness.
The familiar tingle of teleportation magic skittered across her skin. Almost time. She gripped her worn out backpack tightly, she wasn’t making that mistake again. She was ready for this though, nothing was going to stop her this year. A summer spent travelling, meeting with some of the most knowledgeable (and consequently, most eccentric) void masters around the world, and she felt that maybe, just maybe she might be onto something.
She crossed her fingers and screwed up her eyes, “This is gonna be the year,” she whispered to herself, not really caring if the other people in the small french cafe had started staring at the girl stood, surrounded on all sides by slowly gathering green light, “I’m bringing you home, Master Royle!”
A familiar rushing sensation, like being swept away by a wave, or falling, only forever. And then... ground beneath her feet.
She was home.
She opened her eyes slowly, looked up instinctively, only to remember that he wasn’t there. He would be next time. She was never arriving on that glyph alone again. She shook away the thought, and cast her eye about the arrival glyph, wondering who was already here.
Her temper flared. Him. And what the fudge was he wearing on his face? He wouldn’t be wearing them for long, not is she had anything to say about it, anyway, “Oy! Twerp! We’ve got business to discuss!” she yelled, before stalking angrily towards him.
