Sir Arthur Doyle and Mr. Waite's Test - Training Begins!

AN: This chapter, when written, was higly centered on the Images related to the construct mentioned in this chapter. So, if you don't get any particular action, just ignore it.

***********

Just as Darcie finished her words, Madam Villanelle almost spilled her wine, her eyes trembling.

Only a few times she had heard Darcie utter those words, mentioning her fate with others. She could still vividly recall the young Malfoy caressing Leander, the young Nundu, after beating it into a simpleton.

That was a sight Madam Villanelle would never forget. She turned her head and gave a look of extreme pity to the two ghosts inadvertently.

Her look went unnoticed, though.

The two ghosts had brought Darcie to the middle of the room, where, on top of a round table, there was a construct that appeared as a miniature house.

"How old are you, Darcie?" Sir Arthur asked, looking down at her.

"I will be 7 this June, Arthur," she answered, her eyes never leaving the construct.

Mr. Waite noticed Darcie's gaze and nodded. "Although we know you have already begun your studies," he instructed, his voice gentle like a ghostly wind, "we don't expect you to know it all, either. We have had this construct built with especially someone like you in mind. Of course, only one who truly meets our expectations can solve it completely."

"What is it, Arthur?" Madam Villanelle asked, coming to stand by Darcie's side.

"A puzzle." Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had a grin on his face that didn't match the standards of his thick mustache. "It's a construct full of puzzles and clues, which will open up upon a complete solution. To solve it, one must not only have a grasp over the basics of many magical subjects but one must also possess a great aptitude, a zeal to learn things, and an innovative mind."

Mr. Waite hovered near Darcie and smiled at her. "Remember," he warned, stroking the ghostly book in his hands, "if you want to learn from us, then you must first learn to think outside the box."

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle narrowed his blurry eyes at Mr. Waite. He looked at the clock and thundered, "Begin!"

Darcie took a deep breath and began walking around the table in circles, observing every little detail about the construct. Several locked drawers needed some kind of key or gear to open them up. In some places, some buttons could be pushed but would do nothing without knowing the set order. Then there were markings everywhere that felt extremely out of place at a glance. But the more Darcie looked at them, the more she found them relative to the context.

It was obvious to Darcie that she wasn't supposed to use Magic in solving it. The complexity of the problem would have exponentially increased in that case, Darcie knew.

No. This was a test of her knowledge. And Knowledge she shall use to pry upon its secrets.

After a few minutes, Darcie came to a sudden stop and nodded to herself.

Unknown to her, her calm appearance had already astounded the two ghosts. How was this normal for a girl of her age? The things they had heard about her… were not without basis, it seemed.

It was then Darcie eyed the glyph of Royal Staff on one side of the construct, blooming out of a white flower. A smile flashed across her lips unknowingly. "Asphodel."

Crrkk!

It was as if Asphodel was a password, bringing gears into motion. The entire construct creaked, and with a screech, a small drawer opened up on the other side of the construct.

Asphodel was a plant of the lily family, and it bloomed with white flowers. But only this wouldn't have let Darcie find the answer. Asphodel had one more name, though not so popular.

Royal Staff!

Darcie calmly walked to the opened drawer and took out an odd hexagonal gear. This was only the first of the many puzzles, but she had already taken the first step.

Minutes went by, and Darcie kept solving one puzzle after another, using the most elementary knowledge as the basis.

Anyone could solve these puzzles at a glance. But only upon truly attempting it one could feel how vast one's knowledge must be to even begin with it. It was more so when one considered the age-limit.

As said by Mr. Waite, this puzzle was designed especially with someone like Darcie in mind.

From names of magical beasts to the standard amounts of ingredients used for potions, and from famous dates to spells and formulas, the clues comprised all and everything.

Darcie was like a fish in the river, snapping her tail, and sending droplets of water in all directions.

Nothing seemed to stop her. Nothing could stop her.

30 minutes had already gone by since the start.

From the side, Madam Villanelle gawked at the sight of the young girl going and the beaming focus in her poisonous green eyes. At last, she shook her head. If she was of her age and at her place, she could have never solved the first puzzle, let alone the entire thing.

Suddenly, a creaking bang resounded, and the entire construct opened up.

Seven large planetary globes, connected with metallic arms, protruded out, forming a complex and mind-boggling replica of the solar system. The sitting room darkened instantly. Beams of light flashed from the center, dying the entire roof with stars; a projection of starry night. And, in this projection, dozens of constellations took shape, connecting the white, blue, and red glowing dots.

Astronomy had never been Darcie's strongest subject. It didn't mean she had not memorized its basics.

The last clue was the name of a constellation. She had recognized the constellation on the roof easily enough. Now, she needed to align the seven planets according to the stars in the constellation. But to move each globe's metallic arm, she would have to solve another puzzle.

After 10 minutes, Darcie finally aligned the globes under the stars.

The moment the last planet arrived under the constellation, another shift of gears, the heaviest till now, reverberated throughout the house.

The entire construct folded into itself. The planetary structure and the light coming out of the center, projecting the starry night, vanished. All opened drawers closed up as well.

Another shift of gears and the construct opened up once more.

However, this time, there weren't any more clues or further structures. Only a wooden, egg-like box hovered on the table, rotating, bobbing up and down.

Darcie frowned. She reached and felt the box's surface for any hidden mechanism, but found none. She had already run out of clues that could lead her further. Nor could she see any way to open the box.

What to do now?

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle puffed out smoke, but it looked more like a sigh. In his eyes, one could almost see an indiscernible look of disappointment. On his side, Mr. Waite, too, had gone silent, opening and closing his mouth, caressing the book in his hands.

5 more minutes went by, the clock ticking one second after another.

One could taste the silence and tension on the tip of their tongues.

Darcie, however, was still composed, her breath steady. In her mind, she kept repeating all the clues and puzzles, hoping to find any hidden one among them.

Inadvertently, Mr. Waite's words surfaced in her mind, replacing her thoughts about the clues. It was as if some hidden being within her had forced her to reevaluate that seemingly casual warning.

'Remember,' Mr. Waite had warned, 'if you want to learn from us, then you must first learn to think outside the box.'

'This?!' Darcie's eyes shone with realization. 'Think outside the box… outside the box… outside… It wasn't a warning! It was…'

A clue!!

Darcie spun around, eying everything within the sitting room. Suddenly, her eyes caught a walking stick. She almost ran toward it, grabbed it, and came back, her gait confident.

Both Sir Arthur and Mr. Waite's eyebrows had risen, their chest heaving up and down. They shared a glance and nodded, already coming to a decision.

Madam Villanelle, though, felt lost to the meaning of Darcie's actions. And then, under the reincarnated Witch of Endor's utterly stunned gaze, Darcie slammed the walking stick over the egg-like box.

Bang!

The wood creaked, but it didn't break.

Bang!!

Thin, web-like cracks ran down from the top, reaching the bottom.

Bang!!!

The entire box shattered, wooden splinters flying here and there.

Darcie huffed, pulled her hair back from her face, and put down the walking stick. In front of her, where the egg-like box was, now hovered an orange and purple card, with something written over it.

Darcie pinched the card between her fingers and brought it toward her.

It was Latin, she recognized. And, perchance, she had learned enough to know its meaning as well.

"Sapientia Sapienti Dona Data!" As she spoke these words aloud, Darcie understood the reasoning behind the two ghosts' stern words, and why they had been so adamant about making her undergo this test.

Wisdom is a gift given to the wise!

Sir Arthur and Mr. Waite both took off their hats and bowed. "Sapientia Sapienti Dona Data!" They repeated the Order's motto along with Darcie. "And you, Darcie Malfoy, are wise enough."

Darcie clenched her thin fingers around the card, a wide smile lifting the corners of her lips.

This was all Darcie ever wanted, not Power. Not Wealth. And not even Status.

Only Greatness.

And she had finally taken another giant step towards it.

Darcie's magical training had just begun!