Goulhearth's Marvelous Institute of Wizardry and Other Magical Creations

Night drew Sienna Rosewood in like a hungry moth to a kindred spirit, with deep azure and cerulean blue flames, just like her own slow-burning fire. The sky dotted above, illuminating her path. The sounds of birds were still, the whisper of crickets chirping off in the distance devoured the quiet air until there was nothing left but her own faint footsteps trudging through the sand as waves crashed against the heavy rocks below. Sienna was worried, she knew she had to get back to the school before the moon struck twelve, just overhead. None of the other witches’ dragons had appeared at their monthly meeting and she was risking losing everything—her housing, her scholarship, her place on the committee—and all for what? An old-wives tale? Some secret superstition about paintings that no one believed? She began to wonder if what she was doing was right, after all, who did she have anything to prove to? Herself? Her Professor? Birdie Mandrake? Sienna was a fellow fourth year, soon to graduate and should’ve known better than to make a bet with Ambrosia Mandrake’s elfin daughter.

Sienna Rosewood ran her sullen fingers over the front door to the lighthouse shanty, half expecting to see Headmistress Goldfinch standing behind the door, her hobbled frame and pointed nose hiding a weary smile—to her surprise, not a soul was in sight. From the outside the school looked to be a crudely built dwelling hobbled together just around the stone basin of an old lighthouse— well-lit with a sloppily lain stone façade and large candles lighting the front door. But anyone who had ever lodged within knew better—for the inside was magical, rooms upon rooms that dove deep into the earth. This school rivaled any other within the wizarding community and it showed.

The wide corridors were filled to the brim with boxes of potions and spell books, scrolls and other assorted odds-and-ends. Feathers, crystals, hourglasses, transfiguration trinkets, old maps, cursed charms—all the usual things this sort of school might need.

“Salazar’s Brew,” Sienna begged, running her fingers along the painting’s tavern door just as the moon struck twelve. A silver glimmer bathed her in alabaster milk, the flames from several of the hallway sconces dimmed and to make things worse, all the regular things she did to get the girls dormitory to open weren’t working, the painting wouldn’t budge.

“Go figure, who would’ve thought a building as old as any competent dragon would be so complicated,” Sienna muttered, kicking herself for thinking she could bend the rules.

“That’s not the way you’re supposed to do it, dearie,” a voice hissed from one of the other dozen or so nearby paintings.

“Oh, let her figure it out for herself,” another faceless voice edged, excitedly, “besides, she’s too late…”

Sienna stammered, stepping back to count the paintings from the left of the stairs thinking she might have missed one hidden behind a box of junk, but she hadn’t—one up, three over, two down.

She must've been dreaming this. There was no way the paintings were alive, awake, talking to her. That couldn't be true.

“No amount of charms or knocks will do, you missed your chance. The portal’s closed for the night.” the first woman continued. Just as a few of the other paintings began to stir about from their card games. Faces peering closer to the frames, swimming up for a look at the latest specimen— “ohhhh my, what good-luck, a student out of bed after hours…”

Sienna stopped to look around, no headmistress or professor was around at this late hour, no doubt all were wistfully slumbering, oblivious to her peril, unsure of what might happen next.

“You’re supposed to be safely tucked away in your room, love. Lot’s of bad, mysterious and dangerous things happen after twelve.” the voice continued.

“You can’t touch me, I am a student,” Sienna whispered, mustering any ounce of confidence she had, but even this was quickly defeated when a low-sounding hiss mewed from a corner painting— “Finally, she’s back…we counted all the students and one fell short…looks like you pulled the lucky card, the short wand so to speak…”

Cackles and snorted laughter could be heard in the otherwise empty hall. Before Sienna could retreat, more witches and wizards appeared in the frames, appearing to have come from portraits long-and-far away, gathering in mob-like unison to stare at the student who defied Goulhearth’s rules. This curiosity was to be expected, Sienna’d been warned to ignore the portraits, especially if you weren’t sure of their history, or origin.

‘Not all two paintings are created equal, never touch a painting unless you have express permission to do so’—Professor Higgsbreath had lectured, one rainy Friday—though Sienna Rosewood, in all her acumen, couldn’t in this second, remember why. The class had been quite a doozy—Perfect Parchments: Dangers of Deadly History, Harmless Exhibitions and all the Creatures Inhabited Within.

“Come, dear child, help an old lady out,” the low-hissing voice begged, the witch had to be no bigger than five-inches in height sitting in the frame. The other portraited witches sat wide-eyed, anticipating what would happen next as Sienna inched closer and closer to the gilded frame. Sienna wondered what was the worst that could happen, she had been through much more direr circumstances before this evening— she had been out of her bed, out of the school after dark, met with dragons, and lost a bet.

Sienna held her hand out, close enough to the frame that she couldn’t touch it. This portrait had a hazy glow coming from the center. A warm fog that enveloped the edges of her fingers. Before long, the woman closed her own hands firmly around Sienna’s, allowing the force of their combined magic to pull her out of the painting. The woman’s hand grazed the sides of the next frame as she climbed out onto the cold stone floor.

“That feels much, much better.”

The woman towered over Sienna, her dusty green shawl and large crystal -ball sized rings appeared to grow bigger the longer Sienna stared.

“No, no, no,” Sienna cried, as more and more witches and wizards of times -passed crawled out of their own portraits. Pretty soon, the room was filled with creatures of all sizes and shapes, some stacked on top of each other. Some floating, some flying.

“Probably should’ve warned you about that, I accidentally touched the other frame which opened their portals back to this side of the world, allowing them to become free. Especially those paintings over there…”

The woman nodded, pointing a long, slender finger towards a small gold plaque tacked just under the border of the frame— ‘how could anyone read that,’ Sienna scoffed, pulling out her crystal magnifying glass to read the microscopic mounted frame—'Madam Moody’s Gathered Menagerie of Ghoulish Monsters and Banished Beings’, read one. The others were as followed, and in no particular order: ‘Celia’s Colossal Cauldrons and Classical Creatures,’ ‘Speakeasy Secrets and Risky Rituals,’ ‘Claire Gristlewald’s Boundless Broomsticks for the Incapable of Flying,’ ‘Medical Magic, Tiniest of Creatures, and Sorcery Unbound.’

It was a wonder no other student had ever bumped into these paintings. Dozens upon dozens of these portrait people popped out of nowhere, multiplying by the second—but it was clear, if these banished, outcast, and retired witches and wizards kept making all this noise, the entire school would be awake within a matter of seconds and Sienna would surely be trampled in the melee, or worse, banished herself.

The thoughts had barely enough time to settle before the woman in the green shawl sensed her worry. “Dear child, have you no faith. Nothing bad will happen. These are some of the best witches and wizard’s money could buy—and quite literally. These paintings are worth a small fortune. Besides, all of us have the combined knowledge and years of service to the Magistrate to run an entirely other world. You should be honored to stand so humbly in our presence. We thank you for granting us freedom…it’s been several hundred years or so and I am dying to see how the world looks outside these dreary walls.”

For the first time in her entire life, Sienna Rosewood stood still as a doorknob and silent. Unsure of how to undo what she had done. Such havoc. How would anyone believe her, how would anyone forgive her. The pictures would all lie empty for the next generation of practicing witches to walk by, hell, the school might even banish her to their frames forever—to roam amidst the roughly painted backdrops for eternity. She’d been so distracted that she hadn’t realized the room was quickly clearing of all the painted people. Witches and Wizards shaking the oily dust from their garbs and stretching their limbs back to normal proportions before heading out into the darkened night. All of them stopping to bow in reverence, or shake Sienna's shoulder in gentle gratitude. Only one or two witches remained in their portraits, seemingly unbothered with all the hubbub, afraid of what might happen if they, themselves were to venture out into the unknown.

The witch smiled as she ran a sharp nail over Sienna’s cheek. “You had your reasons for being out, we have ours. Please take this lesson and use it wisely. Keep us in mind if you chose to break house-rules. We all deserve a stroll under the roving moon but tonight, you will tuck yourself to sleep and wake to peace. Only then will you have your answers. No bad befalls those who are willing to learn. You show promise, you show fight. Use it all for good and you will be set for life. Time will turn back just enough to firm the tides. Oceans may part, clouds may fall, these paintings will house our spirited souls, come one, and come all.”

It was the last thing Sienna Rosewood saw or heard before everything went completely black. When she awoke, tucked neatly in her bed—it was though nothing had happened. She’d almost forgotten the transgressions of the previous night until she felt the familiar burn stretch across her face.

Her cheek tingled where the old-witch had set her spell. Sienna jumped up, startled. Half expecting the Magistrate and every Professor to be standing guard at her feet but the beds around her were completely void of other students. There was no wand, there was no ready. In fact, not a student or teacher could be found.

Sienna Rosewood climbed towards the dormitory door and peered silently into the hall. All was just as she’d left it the night before. She stopped just short of the portrait of the Shawled Witch in Green. The inscription just under the painting read— “The Peculiar Witches Guide: Memorials of Dreams, Hidden Meanings and Second Chances, Trapped Witches and Spirits Guild, Circa 1548. Head-Witch, Pearle Stagheart.”

In the daylight, the painting sat quiet and unmoving in a realm where the unseen seemed to blend seamlessly with reality. Sienna swore she felt the good-witch, the lady in green as she winked a small, silent wink. This must’ve been how Birdie Mandrake and her mother won all their bets, sneaking in and out, going virtually unnoticed. They wouldn’t be the only ones. Sienna Rosewood would do the same, after-all, she had a dragon to meet and she wasn’t about to let anyone else down as she prepared to prove that magic and well-intended secrets could fight side by side. She turned back towards the front door, the sneaking tendrils of smoke rose up from under the doorway to greet her and for the first time, all felt right in both—this world and the next—she was now well and truly lost in between the labyrinth of paintings, forevermore. Her Dragon Percy waiting just outside, the crest of a new day befalling them.

It had begun. The itching scratch, the tempting grab of curiosity.

Under the light of the full moon, the waves crashed around and scattered her secrets into the wind as the stars fell into sordid alignment and Sienna Rosewood wondered what other things Goulhearth hid behind its hallowed walls.