2 Chapter Two: The Red Letter

As I was waiting for Elias, who had made a quick detour to the bathroom, Professor Carrow, the new mystery-wrapped-in-an-enigma teacher, sauntered over. She had this look that said she knew things – things that would make your hair stand on end.

"Arthur Severus Belmont," she started, a knowing smile playing on her lips. Her gaze was intense, like she was trying to X-ray my brain.

I offered a cautious nod. "Hello, Professor Carrow. Just admiring the sword exhibit. They're... sharp."

She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Fate brings people together in the strangest places, Mr. Belmont. Especially in a museum full of ancient pointy things."

I managed a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, fate and school field trips. They both have a knack for the unexpected."

That's when Elias bounced back, looking like he'd just escaped a narrow encounter with a hand dryer. We joined Mr. Radu, who was in full historian mode, gesturing enthusiastically at a stone column crowned with a dragon.

I tried to listen, but Ana Popescu and her gang were making it hard with their whispered jokes. Losing my patience, I snapped, "Could you guys zip it for two seconds?"

The words echoed louder than I intended. The whole group, including Mr. Radu, turned to stare. Oops.

"Something on your mind, Mr. Belmont?" Mr. Radu asked, one eyebrow quirkily raised.

I felt my cheeks warm up. "Uh, no, sir. Just... enjoying the lecture." my face probably matching the color of the reddest Roman cloak in the exhibit. But he wasn't done. He pointed to a carving. "Perhaps you can tell us about this gentleman?"

I glanced at the carving, feeling a wave of relief because I recognized it. "That's Vlad the Impaler, right? the local celebrity for scary bedtime stories." 

"Yes," Mr. Radu nodded, not entirely satisfied. "And he did this because..." 

I wracked my brain to recall. "Well, Vlad was a ruler, and—" 

"Ruler?" Mr. Radu prompted. 

"Well," I started, "Vlad was a voivode who really didn't like his enemies. So much so, he turned them into human kebabs. Not exactly a people person."But his wife hid their son, and he later returned to avenge his family—" 

"Eww!" a girl behind me exclaimed. 

"—leading to a conflict between the voivodes and the invaders," I finished, feeling a few snickers from the group. 

Ana Popescu muttered to a friend, "Like we're ever going to use this in real life. Like a job application will ask, 'Please explain why Vlad the Impaler impaled his enemies.'" 

"And why, Mr. Belmont," Mr. Radu said, echoing Miss Popescu's question, "does this matter in real life?" 

" Busted,"," Elias mumbled. 

"Quiet," Ana hissed, her face redder than her hair. 

At least Ana got reprimanded too. Mr. Radu was the only one who ever. caught her saying anything wrong. He had radar ears. I thought about his question, and With a slight furrow in my brow, I turned my attention back to the carving of Vlad the Impaler, determined to provide a more comprehensive response. 

"Vlad the Impaler," I began, my voice more focused, "took extreme measures like impaling his enemies as a form of psychological warfare. It wasn't just about punishing those who opposed him; it was about instilling fear and sending a brutal message to potential adversaries. His ruthless tactics were a means of maintaining control and deterring opposition, even if it meant resorting to barbaric methods." 

Mr. Radu nodded approvingly, acknowledging the more nuanced explanation. The group's hushed whispers seemed to reflect a newfound interest in the historical context, as if they were realizing that the past held lessons that transcended the boundaries of the classroom. 

"History is often complex," Mr. Radu continued, "woven with threads of power, fear, and survival. Vlad the Impaler's actions, gruesome as they were, provide us with a glimpse into the harsh realities of the time and the lengths to which leaders would go to secure their positions. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Carrow , would you lead us back outside?" The class drifted off, the girls holding their stomachs, the guys pushing each other around and acting like doofuses. 

The students gathered on the front steps of the museum in Bucharest, where we could watch the pedestrian traffic along Unirii Boulevard. Overhead, a massive storm was brewing, with clouds darker than I had ever seen over the city. I figured maybe it was due to global warming or something We had massive snowstorms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane approaching. 

Nobody else seemed to notice. Some of the guys were pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Ana Popescu was trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course, Mrs. Carrow wasn't seeing a thing. Elias and I sat on the edge of the fountain, away from the others. We thought that maybe if we did that, nobody would know we were from that school—the school for lost oddballs who couldn't make it elsewhere. Elias and I leaned against the edge of the fountain, observing the unfolding scenes with a mix of detachment and curiosity. In the midst of the mundane activities playing out around us, there was an unspoken understanding between Elias and me. We were both outsiders, navigating a world that often felt indifferent to our struggles and quirks. 

Elias didn't say anything for a while. Then, when I thought he was going to give me some deep philosophical comment to make me feel better, he said, "Can I have your apple?" I didn't have much of an appetite, so I let him take it. 

I watched the stream of cars going up and down , and thought about my mom's apartment, only a little ways uptown from where we sat. I hadn't seen her since Christmas. I wanted so bad to jump in a taxi and head home. She'd hug me and be glad to see me, but she'd be disappointed, too. She'd send me right back to Carpathian Academy, remind me that I had to try harder I wouldn't be able to stand that sad look she'd give me. 

I was about to unwrap my sandwich when Ana Popescu appeared in front of me with her group of friends—I guess she'd gotten tired of her usual mischief—and deliberately dropped her half-eaten lunch in Elias's lap. 

"Oops," she grinned at me, revealing her crooked teeth. The cafeteria incident was becoming a regular occurrence, a manifestation of the unspoken tension that simmered between different cliques in the school. Elias shot her an exasperated look, his patience clearly tested by the repeated acts of provocation. 

Without thinking, my frustration reached a boiling point. In a reflex fueled by a surge of nerves, I grabbed Ana by the wrist, hoping to convey my displeasure.

But then, something weird happened. There was a spark, a sizzle, and suddenly Ana's hair was on fire. She dove into the fountain, and everyone just froze, staring.

"What did you do, Arthur?" Elias whispered, wide-eyed.

"I have no idea," I said, equally stunned.

Mrs. Carrow was on us in a second. "What's happening here?"

Ana, sopping wet and furious, pointed at me. "He's crazy, that's what!"

I tried to explain, but it sounded lame even to my ears. "I didn't mean to... I don't know how..."

The next day in the headmaster's office felt like a tribunal. Mr. Radu and Mrs. Carrow were there, looking at me like I was a puzzle missing a few pieces.

"Mr. Belmont, we need to discuss the events that transpired at the museum yesterday," the headmaster began, peering over his glasses with a penetrating gaze.

I recounted the bizarre occurrence with Ana's hair catching fire, emphasizing my lack of intent and understanding of how it had happened. However, my explanations seemed to fall on deaf ears. Mrs. Carrow, in particular, maintained a skeptical demeanor throughout.

"Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence, Mr. Belmont," she remarked dryly.

Despite my protestations, the decision was swift and unforgiving. I was to be suspended from Carpathian Academy pending further investigation into the incident. The gravity of the situation hit me, realizing that my already precarious standing at the school had taken a nosedive.

Elias, standing beside me in solidarity, tried to interject, but Mr. Radu silenced him with a stern look. As the weight of the suspension settled on my shoulders, I couldn't help but wonder if the peculiar abilities I displayed were the cause or merely a symptom of the strange path my life was taking.

Within hours, I found myself packing my belongings under the watchful eyes of the staff. The whispers of my peers echoed in the hallways, a mixture of gossip and speculation, dragging my bags through the hall, I could almost hear the whispers of my classmates behind me. "There goes Arthur, our resident pyrotechnician," they'd probably say. I've always been the odd one, but accidentally setting Ana's hair on fire was like unlocking a new level in the Weirdness Olympics. - like that time I found a juice box just as I was thinking about how thirsty I was, or when Jenny's hair turned rainbow colors after she stole my sandwich. But lately, those weird occurrences had been as rare as a fun history class.

I longed for a place where 'Weird Arthur' was just 'Arthur'. The walk home felt like I was the main character in a mystery novel – the kind where you're not sure if the protagonist is the hero or the villain. Every shadow seemed to watch me, every breeze felt like a whispered secret. But as soon as I stepped into the apartment, it was like someone hit the mute button on the spooky soundtrack.

"Mom, I'm back," I called out, but the only reply was the echo of my own voice bouncing off the walls. Creepy much? The place was as silent as a library after hours, the kind of quiet that makes your skin crawl.

A shiver ran down my spine as I ventured further inside. It felt like I was being followed, but every time I looked back, it was just me and my shadow. Typical.

Room by room, I searched for Mom, but she was nowhere to be found. It was like playing hide and seek with a ghost. Then, in the living room, my eyes landed on something out of place – a letter on the coffee table, sealed with a blob of crimson wax that looked like it belonged in a museum rather than our apartment.

I picked up the letter, half expecting it to fly out of my hand or start speaking. The seal was intricately designed, like something you'd find in a treasure chest in one of those adventure movies. With a mix of curiosity and a good dose of apprehension, I broke the seal. Instantly, the room lit up like a disco ball had exploded. The letter burst into flames, but instead of burning up, the words lifted into the air, swirling around like they were part of some ancient dance

As the fiery script of the letter enveloped me, reality started doing backflips. It twisted and turned like a kaleidoscope on overdrive. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to escape the dizzying display. It felt like being on a roller coaster, except I hadn't signed up for the ride and definitely wanted off.

Time seemed to stretch out like a lazy cat in the sun. I held my breath, hoping everything would snap back to normal. But when the whirlwind of chaos finally calmed down, I opened my eyes, half-expecting to see my living room as it should be – not in front an enormous door, who-knows-where.

The Door stood tall right in front of me. It was adorned with the same seal from the letter, which pulsed with a kind of energy that made the air buzz. It was like staring at the entrance to Narnia, or any other magical place you could think of...Just then, a wave of nausea hit me like a freight train. It was the kind of queasiness you get when you spin around too fast and then try to walk straight. I clutched my stomach, wishing I had a barf bag. No such luck. Bending over, I was at the mercy of my rebellious insides.

After the internal storm calmed, I took a deep, steadying breath, trying to compose myself in front of the imposing door. That's when I heard it – a soft cough, the kind that's more of a polite 'ahem' than a sign of a cold.

I spun around, and there she was. A woman stood before me, her presence commanding yet ethereal. Her dark hair flowed around her shoulders like shadows come to life, and her eyes, deep and dark, held galaxies of untold secrets. She wore a robe that seemed to be made of midnight itself, fitting her slender figure like she was born to wear it.

But what really caught my breath was how much she looked like... well, like me. The same pale skin that never seemed to tan, the same intense gaze that made teachers nervous, and the same raven-black hair that had a life of its own. It was like looking into a weird, age-advanced mirror.

Her eyes met mine, and it was like she was speaking directly to my soul, no words necessary. The corners of her lips curled into a knowing smile, the kind that said she knew exactly what was going on and found my confusion amusing.

She took a few steps towards me, each movement graceful and deliberate. Her gaze never left mine, pinning me in place with a mix of awe and apprehension.

"Who are you?" I blurted out, my voice a mix of curiosity and a tiny bit of fear.

Her reply was smooth, her tone tinged with a touch of amusement and a dash of something else – maybe disappointment? "I see your mother hasn't taught you the finer points of etiquette. No matter, there's still time for that. But first..."