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r5h · 6 years ago

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Little Witch Academia: Falling Stars

EPISODE 2: HOW TO MEET YOUR HEROES (PART 1)

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The dragon swooped down low over the students assembled in the Great Hall, and they screamed with fear.

But Chariot stood proud upon the stage. “Noctu Orfei! Audin Fraetor!” Her wand transformed into a magnificent bow, and she pulled the drawstring back. “Shiny… Arc!”

The arrow shot forward, piercing the dragon. It swelled comically, then exploded into a shower of lights, and the witches below cheered. All of them, even the ones who’d looked unimpressed at the start.

“Never forget,” she declared, “to believe in yourself! That is your magic!” She wove her wand again and disappeared into a vortex of light, which swirled away to nothing.

“Well, well, that was truly splendid!” Headmistress Holbrooke called out. “Let’s all give a big round of applause to one of our most famous and beloved teachers, Professor Chariot, for making this a very special convocation ceremony!”

The sound of clapping hands crashed like thunder.

Behind the curtain, Chariot sucked in huge breaths through gritted teeth. Her head was light, her eyes wide and strained, and she sagged to the ground against a nearby wall. All those people—missing their magic—

Shut up, she told herself. It wasn’t real, not this time.

But her blood pounded all the same, mingling with the cheers, the screams. She saw their smiling faces, saw little lights coming out of their chests—lights being stolen from their hearts, burning up—

“Pulse: elevated.”

Her head whipped up to see the floating red disk, whirring at her eye level. Out of it came a voice that was human, though still clipped. Sharp enough to cut through all the pounding. “Breathing: fast, irregular, increasingly shallow. Pupils: dilated. Diagnosis: panic attack.”

A hologram burst out from the top of the disk: Professor Croix, with her usual red cloak bundled around her. She was reading some sort of translucent display, but after a moment she waved it away. “These droids can be awfully redundant sometimes.”

Chariot tried to force a laugh, but it came out as more an exhalation. “Croix.” These rapid breaths were still coming.

“You did great.” Croix flashed her a smile. Light flickered across her face, suggesting she was near a fire. “It’s okay. No one got hurt, no Dream Fuel Spirits stole anyone’s magic. Not even actually using the Shiny Rod, just stage trickery. You did great. Deep breaths.”

Another flying roomba hovered close and beeped in a reassuring way. Chariot clutched it to her torso. It was comfortingly hot to the touch, and Chariot felt her breathing slowing down, if only a little. This felt real.

“Is that helping?” Croix asked, kneeling and leaning forward, her disk hovering closer. “It ought to be helping.”

“Yes. Yes it is.” Chariot took a shuddering breath, willing her heart to slow. “I can’t believe I let Headmistress Holbrooke talk me into this. I swore I’d never do another show, not after….”

“The moon?” Croix stood up and walked away, though her disk remained stationary, as though she were on a treadmill. She pushed open the flap of, presumably, a tent, and looked out at what had to be the sky—not that Chariot could see that through the hologram. “You know,” Croix said slowly, “I think I like it better this way.”

“Stop.” Blood pounding, hard enough she could hear it. Or was that the applause?

“I mean, the United States government is still furious with you for knocking over the flag, but that’s not exactly illegal. I think.” Croix shrugged. “Then again, what do I know about law? No one’s pressed charges against me yet.”

“Stop!” Chariot said, biting on her tongue.

Croix’s demeanor instantly changed from confidence to fear. “I’m sorry! I thought we were bantering! I…. Your show was great. Sorry to bring that up.”

“No, I’m sorry.” Chariot shook her head and forced herself to stand up. Still clutching the second disk to herself, she walked toward the back of the backstage and pulled open the drapes.

The moon greeted her, huge in the sky. The moon she’d put a scar in ten years ago. How hilarious: all those years, she’d dreamed of making her mark….

And she had made it, she reminded herself, clutching the disk tight. Akko and Diana were in the audience, and they’d cheered loudest of all. The school had more students now than in the previous thousand years. Magic was back.

“It was a good show,” she murmured to herself. Next to her, Alcor flew in and landed on the sill, and she patted him on the head. He felt real too.

Croix’s disk floated over beside her. Croix smiled, looking her in the eye.

“Where are you?” Chariot asked, smiling back, fighting down the panic and winning for once. “Last time we talked you were in Egypt, and then I got caught up preparing for the convocation… I wish I could have made more time these past few days to chat.”

“It wouldn’t have been that interesting anyway. I haven’t made much progress, I’m afraid.” Croix’s sigh quavered as she shivered. “And the Arabian desert, since you asked. These nights can get cold.”

Chariot hugged the warming disk a little closer to her body, and laughed a little. “Physician, heal thyself.”

“Good idea, but I want to conserve my droids’ power out here as much as possible.” Croix’s hologram flickered. She walked back toward the fire in her tent and sat down, wrapping her cloak tighter around herself. “Even after Yggdrasil came back, there’s some places where magic’s still thin on the ground, and I’ve walked into a dead zone here.”

“You know you don’t have to do this for me, right?” Chariot said, staring out the window. “I love that you are, but… you know I don’t resent you for any of it anymore. Not the Shiny Rod, not the Dream Fuel Spirit, not Wagandea. That’s all in the past.”

“Thanks, but that’s nonsense.” Croix sat cross-legged, her chin resting on her hands as her elbows pressed on her legs. She stared into the fire in front of her. “The past doesn’t stay in the past. It just keeps going until it becomes the present. You haven’t forgiven yourself either, have you?”

Chariot had no reply there. She just kept staring out the window, out at the cross-scarred moon.

“Yeah. So I’m going to find a cure for your curse.”

“While traveling the world. And continuing to be a professor at the most prestigious magical academy in Europe.” Chariot shook her head, a small smile on her lips.

“And making time to chat, don’t forget.” Croix looked up and winked.

“When do you sleep?”

“I don’t need much.”

“You mean you don’t get much.” Chariot rolled her eyes and turned to Croix. “It’s after midnight where you are, isn’t it, Croix? Get some rest.”

She leaned in for a hug, but the hologram fizzled as Chariot’s arms went right through it. After a moment to realize, she pulled away, and looked down. “Sorry,” she said. “I… wish you were here.”

“I’ll always be there for you.” Croix smiled, and tapped the ground at her side. “And here for you, too. Isn’t modern magic great?”

“Only as great as the witch using it.” Chariot put on another smile. “Good night, Croix.”

“Good night, Chariot.” Croix reached to her side and grabbed a cup of ramen; then the hologram fizzled out. The disk which had been projecting it floated away.

Chariot sighed and looked out at the moon again, still holding Croix’s other disk in a hug. The moon was beautiful. It was the same moon Croix could see, thousands of miles away.

For a moment, something else in the sky caught her gaze, and she frowned. Something about the arrangement of the stars….

Then she yawned, and turned away from the window. Alcor hopped onto her shoulder as she walked. She was tired, and classes were tomorrow and she hadn’t even eaten yet. Time for an early dinner and an early bed.

“Char, get up!”

“Nnnnn. Too early….”

“It is eight o’clock in the morning, which is a perfectly reasonable time for any young witch to wake. So get up!”

“Go away. Let me die here.”

“Not funny!”

Mani and Tiff each grabbed one of Char’s arms and heaved her up—from the bottom bunk. She had demanded Tiff switch with her the previous night, with some explanation about gravitational potential energy, and from there there had been a general reshuffling. Tiff had gotten the top bunk, and Mani had the large bed.

Char moaned, then glanced at the sun streaming through the window and hissed like a vampire. “Put me back.”

“Magical Astronomy is in an hour, and we need to eat first. So no, we will not put you back.” Tiff shook herself and released Char, who at least wasn’t trying to fall back into bed. Apparently, trying to snooze wasn’t worth fighting Mani and Tiff.

“Fine.” Char yawned widely. “Getting changed.”

“We’ll turn around,” Tiff said. Mani dutifully did so.

“Meh. Don’t care.”

“We’re doing it anyway.”

To her credit, Char didn’t take much longer than five minutes to get dressed. However, that was still five minutes of Tiffany standing awkwardly with her back to the bunkbed, which at least gave her time to look around half of the room.

She squinted. The room was obviously constructed in a classical style, to match the rest of the school. The Shooting Star rested upright against the wall in one corner, having returned from its flight sometime last night. The shelf by the window was filled with the books Mani and Tiff had unpacked—Char had done no such thing. Overall, it all looked as she’d expected… and yet.

She wasn’t sure how to articulate it, but the room lacked the sense of age the rest of the building had. Somehow the walls seemed too clean, the windows too clear—not the cleanness of having been cleaned, but of never having been dirty. It was like a new car.

“If I didn’t know better,” she said, walking out of the room with Mani and Char in tow, “I’d say this whole wing was built within the last year.”

“Good eye! Construction finished a week ago.”

The voice was disembodied but familiar. Tiff looked around, but no other witches were in the corridor around them. “They really had to rush the new dorms,” the voice continued, “what with the influx of first-years this time. Up here! Hi!”

Tiff glanced up and saw a mouse. A mouse with bangs and a half-do. “Gah!” Tiff yelled.

The mouse grinned with buck-teeth, then hopped down. One burst of smoke later, and Akko was standing before them, hands on her hips. “Don’t do that!” Tiff blurted.

“And good morning to you too!” Akko rolled her eyes, but smiled all the same. “I was wondering, do you need help finding the Great Hall for breakfast?”

“Why would we?” Mani asked.

Akko shrugged. “The last couple groups needed it. Come on, follow me!”

Or maybe, Tiffany thought but did not say, they just didn’t have the heart to say no. Yet she was walking behind Akko anyway, as she led them with the enthusiasm of a parade conductor, so apparently Tiff didn’t have the heart either.

“Is the Shooting Star around?” Akko asked, turning a corner. “I was wondering if I’d have a chance to say hi. Not like it would say hi back, but we’ve got a history, y’know?”

“It’s resting in our room. Maybe even brooms need sleep.” Tiff frowned. “You were chosen by the Shooting Star, weren’t you?”

“More or less, but it didn’t stick around for the afterparty. Which is a shame, since it was a really nice afterparty. We had cake! I guess it wasn’t hungry.” Akko chuckled, although Tiff felt like her little joke didn’t even merit a groan. “In any case, I have no idea why it’s so interested in you. Any ideas?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing!” Tiff sighed. “Never mind.”

“Well, I know someone who might know, and she’s basically the smartest and greatest witch of all time… but you’ve got classes first.”

They came to a spiral staircase and descended it. From there, it was only a minute’s brisk walk before they were at the great hall, yet Char was already grumbling behind them about the exertion. Tiff rolled her eyes and strode forward.

A blonde-green-haired witch glanced up as they approached the dining area. “Is that the last of them, Akko?”

“Think so, yeah. Morning, Diana!”

Tiff’s jaw dropped. The image flashed into her head once more: two witches, standing atop the Shooting Star, firing a giant bow at a magical missile. Akko had been one and this—this was the other. “Diana Cavendish,” she mumbled.

And then, as Akko leaned in and kissed Diana on the cheek, she wished she hadn’t dropped her jaw all the way to start out. She needed some way to escalate.

“You two—” she stuttered.

“Akko,” Diana said, blushing, “not in front of people, please.”

“Aww, but that’s the best part of dating!” Akko pouted, and then turned to the trio. “May I introduce my lovely girlfriend, Diana.”

Tiffany made up her mind and stuck out her hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, Miss Cavendish. They say you’re the best student in the history of Luna Nova!” Then she squinted: Diana seemed to have mouthed the last few words as Tiff said them. “I suppose you must get that a lot,” Tiff added, grinning nervously.

“Well, it’s true, in fairness.” Diana’s voice was even, without a hint of arrogance. She was stating a fact: no more, no less. Then she smiled, and took Tiff’s outstretched hand. “Well, it was true, once upon a time. It’s very nice to meet you, miss….”

“Tiffany Vandergard!”

“Ah, from the Vandergard family in New York.”

“New Amsterdam,” Tiff muttered before she could stop herself. Char sniggered behind her, and she felt heat rush to her face.

Diana’s polite expression didn’t falter. “Well, I’m sure you know best. I won’t keep you from your meal. Enjoy your first day of classes.” She took Akko’s hand in hers, with the unconscious ease of someone slipping their hand into their pocket, and walked away.

Which meant Tiff didn’t have to maintain her composure. “Cavendish!” she hissed, whipping around to face Char and Mani. “We just met Diana Cavendish! I mean, the family was on the wane in recent years, goodness knows, but she’s brought the name back in a big way!” She heaved a deep breath. “Oh, I think I need to sit down.”

“Cheers to that,” Char said, flopping into a chair at the nearest unoccupied table.

Mani sighed. “I’ll get you two some rolls.”

Tiff just breathed deeply. Diana was something like a household name in the magical community: not only a spellcasting prodigy, but an incredible flier. She’d certainly proved her mettle in the worldwide broadcast on the day of Starfall, deftly maneuvering her broom through a hailstorm of missile-fire. It looked like trying to dodge rain, and she’d come out dry.

Tiff forced another breath, and pulled out her schedule. First up on the list was Magical Astronomy, with… Professor Chariot, of all people. As in, that Chariot. This was going to be one star-studded morning.

“Aw, man,” Char said, glancing at her schedule in turn. “I don’t have any classes with the fish.”

“The fish?”

“Yeah, I don’t know her name.”

“Then how do you know you don’t have any classes with her?”

Char considered this, tapping a finger to her lip. “Good point. Oh, hey,” she added, leaning toward Tiff. “We’ve got most of the same classes. Magic Astronomy, Numerology… oh, this one’s weird.” She tapped the block on her schedule that came after midday break. “What’s Modern Magic, and who’s Professor Croix?”

“I haven’t the faintest.” Croix… the name pinged something in Tiff’s brain, some small cluster of neurons, but nothing came of it.

Mani returned, carrying breakfast for them. Tiff couldn’t help but notice that while Mani had piled her own plate high, she and Char only had a roll and a slice of butter each. “A little unbalanced, don’t you think?” Char asked, eyeing her roll.

“I don’t know what either of you like.” Mani set to cutting up her bacon. “If you’re hungry, go get something yourselves.”

“Fair.” Char shrugged, and went at her roll with gusto. “Rrrrrr,” she said through a mouthful of bread, groaning like a zombie. “Grains.”

Tiff rolled her eyes. Then she glanced up: the eye-roll had caught a flicker of movement near the ceiling.

“Maps here! Getcha maps here! Brawk!”

Mani squeaked and dove under the table at the sudden noise.

It was Akko, of course. She’d metamorphosed into some sort of large bird that Tiff didn’t immediately recognize—possibly an oversized toucan, but most toucans didn’t have bangs—and was flying around the room, dropping leaflets on the students below. Tiffany watched one flutter down to her table: on it was a detailed floorplan of Luna Nova, enchanted with a glowing red dot in the great hall. Tiff frowned, then grabbed the map and waved it around her head a little: the dot jittered accordingly.

Had Akko come up with this enchantment?

“Atsuko Kagari!”

Tiff’s head spun around at the harsh sound, which resonated like a gunshot. The teacher it came from seemed to have been born at middle-age, she wore it so well. “Need I remind you that there is no flying allowed indoors? And that includes under your own power, in case you’re thinking of being clever!”

“Sorry, Professor Finnelan! Brawk!” Akko the parrot flapped down toward a table—the one Diana was sitting at, incidentally—and perched upon it. A puff of smoke erupted, and Akko the human was crouched on the table in a similar pose, grinning. Diana rolled her eyes.

“I thought you were making an effort to be more responsible!” Professor Finnelan grimaced suddenly—distinct from her earlier frown in its intensity—and clutched her stomach. “Ugh, my ulcer is acting up again.”

“Sorry, Professor,” Akko said, a lot more contritely. “Do you need anything?”

“I need you to get off that table!”

Tiffany turned away and attacked her breakfast. This was the witch she’d thought was the greatest she’d ever seen? A girl who couldn’t go five minutes without getting in trouble at school, and saw nothing wrong with waiting outside a bedroom shapeshifted into a mouse.

A witch like that couldn’t possibly be the greatest ever, could she?

“Welcome, to the—of—nomy!”

The redheaded teacher winced. She detached a microphone from the neckline of her dress, turned a little dial on it, and spoke into it once more. “WELCOME, TO THE WORLD OF ASTRONOMY!”

Tiff and the rest of the class covered their ears at the shriek of feedback. Grimacing, the teacher took the microphone and tossed it on the floor to her side, producing another bunch of dull thuds from unseen speakers. “Well, I’ll have to talk to Professor Croix about this microphone experiment of hers, but in the meantime, I’ll just project my voice like normal. Welcome, to the world of….” She sighed. “Oh, you know.”

Tiff squinted. The teacher had introduced herself as Chariot, and her hair was the right color, but… apart from that, she couldn’t imagine anyone being more opposite. Shiny Chariot was as eye-grabbing as a fireworks show, whereas Professor Chariot was as eye-grabbing as a slow-motion car crash.

Maybe there’s a potion she drinks, like Dr. Jekyll, Tiff mused. Maybe she actually transforms for the show. Maybe she has a twin.

“So!” Professor Chariot said, smiling nervously. This seemed to be the only way she could do anything. “Obviously, before you can do Magical Astronomy, you’ll have to master the basics of plain old, boring, Astronomy. Except it’s not boring!” she added, quickly, as if someone was about to give up on the class right then. “It’s very interesting, or at least I’ll do my best to make it as interesting as it should be. As it is!”

Char was wincing beside her. It was a long, slow wince, and it seemed Char was willing to draw it out all class long. “Self esteem issues, much?” she whispered.

Tiff grumbled to herself as Professor Chariot waved a wand, and sheets of paper flew out from her desk among the students. As they landed on the desks, Tiffany saw they were worksheets. “So let’s start by, um… filling these out! Just as well as you can, so I can get a sense of the class’s aptitude.” Chariot was tapping her fingers together. “You have fifteen minutes, feel free to start.”

Planets, and a star chart for naming constellations. The planets were a cakewalk, and although she wasn’t a hundred percent certain about the constellations, she was pretty sure about half of them and reasonably confident in her guesses for the others. She sighed and flipped her paper over after only about five minutes, then reclined in her chair.

Nothing quite like a pop quiz at the beginning of class to make astronomy “interesting”.

After ten tedious minutes, a bell rang. “All right, time’s up,” Chariot said, and waved her wand. The worksheets flew her way. “And, just remember, this isn’t being graded,” she said, glancing at them as they approached. “It’s just my way of gauging where the class is with respect to knowing their cosmology.”

“Wasn’t done,” Char muttered, slouching over her desk.

The papers shuffled, floating, in front of Chariot. Her frown grew frownier with each one. “Mmm. Some standouts, but….” She shook her head. “Could you all do something else for me? Close your eyes.”

Tiffany closed hers dutifully, but squinted even so under her eyelids.

“Raise your hand if you’re from a non-magical family, or if you didn’t have magic until very recently.”

Around Tiffany, she heard the sound of many hands being raised. It sounded like more than half the class.

“That makes sense. Drop your hands, and open your eyes.” Tiff opened hers to see Chariot smiling. “Well, it’s quite all right if you don’t know the constellations already. This is a school, after all!”

She chuckled, and some of the students chuckled back, but without humor in their voices. Tiffany glanced around, and saw… well, it was like what she’d seen in her dorm, now that she was paying attention. The students all looked proper enough on the surface, but there were signs. Subtle slips in presentation, in how they wore their robes or carried themselves. There were a lot of newbies here.

“Not to mention, some of my greatest students started from the bottom,” Chariot continued. She tapped a piece of chalk with her wand, and it flew into the air and started sketching out a rough Copernican system. “So we’ll begin by going over the planets!”

Tiff suppressed a groan. If there was any way to make non-magical astronomy fun and interesting, then she was sure that spending a week recapping “Baby’s First Solar System” was not it.

It was going to be a long forty-five minutes.

Tiff snorted. “I still think it’s her twin, or something. No way was that Shiny Chariot.”

She trudged along the hallway. Mani and Char were in tow behind her. “I thought she was nice,” Mani said, “and she’s definitely a pretty good teacher—”

“In what universe?” Tiff rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe there’s people in that class who don’t know the planets. And she’s accommodating them!”

Char cleared her throat with a meaningful look. Tiffany stared at her. “Oh, not you too.”

“I forgot whether Pluto is one or not, okay? Cut me some slack.”

“Pluto is absolutely a planet,” Tiff said.

Mani raised her eyebrow. “Are you sure? I’m pretty sure it isn’t anymore….”

“Maybe to non-witches it isn’t, but in magical circles Pluto is still the ninth planet!”

“There are actually multiple schools of thought about the subject,” a fourth voice cut in. Tiffany glanced to her right, saw Diana walking next to them, and tried not to vibrate with excitement. Diana didn’t glance at them, just kept power-walking forward with the gait of someone with somewhere to be.

Tiffany had somewhere to be, too: wherever Diana was going. She hurried forward as Diana continued, “Since the non-magical International Astronomical Union decided it wasn’t a planet, and discovered multiple objects in the solar system with similar mass, a number of different astrological factions have emerged.”

She smiled as Tiff stared, looking at her for the first time. “Sorry to butt in, but your discussion was interesting. Might I recommend ‘The Case for Eris’ as a treatise about the ongoing debate on the matter? I know the library has a copy.”

“Thank you,” Tiff breathed.

“Not a problem. Enjoy your day.” With another flashed smile, she turned down a corner. Tiff stopped at the implied dismissal and watched her leave. The girl was the definition of grace, the personification of poise, the….

“Hey, Tiff. You’re kinda standing in the middle of the hallway.”

Tiffany blinked, and glanced behind her to see the myriad students she was blocking from walking through the intersection. She blushed and hurried forward.

“These are the lunar runes which have been used by witches since ancient times.” Professor Finnelan waved her wand, and row upon row of runes appeared on the blackboard behind her. “Can anyone here read the segmental script?”

Tiffany squinted. She was sure she’d seen this somewhere before, but… maybe if she had some time….

“Anyone? No?” Professor Finnelan sighed, and recited, “‘Bless the one who lets this stone remain untouched. Woe betide the one who moves it.’ It’s the inscription on the tomb of Scarlette, the Third Olde Witch.” Finnelan frowned. “I suppose we can’t have a Diana every year.”

“Of course Diana got it,” Tiff whispered, staring.

“Of course,” Char repeated with a yawn. “Little miss perfect.”

“She’s taller than you.”

“Big miss perfect.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being perfect. In fact, by definition—”

“Miss Vandergard and Miss Jones!” Finnelan’s voice was startling, like being interrupted by a fire alarm. “Feel free to continue your discussion after class, but here, we learn.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Tiff declared, and with a sharp nod she got back to her notes. This was exactly right. This was exactly what a professor should be. No guff, no chatter, just leadership.

“I like Chariot better.”

“What?” Tiff dropped her fork just as she was about to start eating, and glared at Char, who was leaning in her chair with her legs on the table. “She’s only better at stuttering! Professor Finnelan has all the competency Chariot lacks.”

“And she’s boring,” Char said, yawning halfway through.

“She’s direct! The subject itself is interesting! And get your feet off the table!”

“Chariot tries, though.”

“Tries and fails.” Tiff turned to face Mani. “Back me up on this, okay? Chariot’s a decent entertainer, I’ll grant her that, but who decided she ought to be a teacher?”

“I… think they both have their strong points?” Tiff hadn’t noticed before, but it was obvious now: Mani was squirming in her chair. “I wouldn’t say one is… better than the other, but….”

“All right, Mani?” Char leaned forward. “This isn’t that painful an argument, right?”

“No, it’s… I have to….” She grimaced. “How do I put this… let off some pressure?”

“‘Let off some pressure’?” Char snorted. “You don’t need a euphemism. It’s okay. Everyone pees.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Everyone also poops. Just… go to the bathroom.”

“But, I….” Mani sucked in a breath. “Okay, fine.”

She stood up, pushed her chair in, and hurriedly walked off: the kind of walk used by every child at the pool who’d just been yelled at not to run by a lifeguard.

“In any case,” Tiffany said, picking her fork back up, “I can say with confidence that Chariot is the worse teacher of the two. Possibly the worst teacher at the school, and if this is what we can expect from her, then I hope to have as little to do with Professor Chariot as possible.”

“Hi, Tiff! Come with me, we’re gonna see Professor Chariot!”

Tiffany looked up and saw Akko standing over her. “Gah!” she said, bolting to her feet. On the upside, Akko wasn’t a crocodile or a monkey or anything this time, but that didn’t excuse the definite downside of her being in Tiff’s personal bubble. “Don’t you have to go show some newbies how to tie their shoes, or something?” Tiff asked, backing away toward the table.

“Oh, tutoring? Diana’s actually helping a couple of students out. They seemed really excited to talk to her!” She smiled, took Tiff’s hand. “But I’ve gotta get you to Professor Chariot, pronto!”

“What?”

“And bring your new broom!”

“What?”

Tiff was helpless as Akko dragged her out of the dining hall.

#little witch academia #akko kagari #diana cavendish #chariot du nord #croix meridies #diakko #anne finnelan #fanfiction #falling stars

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r5h · 6 years ago

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Little Witch Academia: Falling Stars

PROLOGUE

AO3 LINK

NEXT CHAPTER

Saving the world is a little more complicated than you’d think.

When Akko Kagari unlocked the Grand Triskelion and returned magic to the world, she expected everyone to be smiling about it. But when an all-new class of witches arrives at Luna Nova, it’s not long before she realizes that not everyone feels the same way about magic’s resurrection as she does.

Tiffany Vandergard just wants to become a great witch like her mother, and do some good in the world. It would be a lot easier if her old best friend hadn’t decided to hate her out of nowhere, and if her new friends weren’t such handfuls, and if her self-appointed mentor wasn’t such a nutcase. And then there’s the problem of this legendary broom that’s decided to latch onto her.

A story dedicated to anyone who’s ever tried to help.

“Mother?”

“Yes, Tiffany?”

“Why do I have to go to public school?”

“Tiffany,” her father growled, one hand gripping the steering wheel and the other primed over the horn. “You have asked this question ten times in the past three days. The answer is not going to change.” He sounded stressed. Tiffany got it: there were a lot of cars in front of them, and they weren’t moving an inch. New Amsterdam might have been the greatest city in the world, but the traffic stank.

Her mother sighed, then turned around in the front seat to look at Tiffany in the back. “Tiffany,” she said, and that was enough prompting for Tiffany to look out the window in a huff. “Look at me, Falling Star,” her mother said, in that warm way that was impossible to ignore.

Tiffany groaned and looked forward. “School’s not just about learning facts,” her mother said with a smile. “It’s about meeting people. Not tutors,” she added, as Tiffany tried to speak up. “People your own age. You’ve got to show them what you’re made of, after all.”

“Don’t wanna,” Tiffany grumbled, crossing her arms.

“You’re going to be at Luna Nova one day. You have to learn to get along with girls your own age—dear.”

The last part was addressed at Tiffany’s father. He was fidgeting his hand on the steering wheel, and Tiffany couldn’t see his mouth, but she knew he was doing the angry grimace thing. “The light is green,” he muttered in strangled tones, looking straight at the cars ahead. “How are you not seeing this? Are you colorblind?”

“Honey,” her mother said, “just let me take care of it.”

“But then the traffic wins,” her father said, slamming the horn twice. Tiffany winced at the burst of noise. “I can’t let the traffic win, Vicky!”

“Dear.” Now Mother was using the warm voice on Father. Tiffany knew how this was going to end. “You’re a valiant road warrior, but would you rather defeat the traffic, or get our daughter to her first ever day of school on time?”

Her father took a deep breath; then his shoulders slackened, and he stopped fidgeting. “All right,” he said.

“Thanks, honey.” Tiffany’s mother leaned in to give him a quick peck on the cheek, then rummaged in her purse. “For goodness’s sake, it always falls to the bottom—here we go,” she said, lifting her red wand from the purse. It shimmered with light as she tapped it twice against the dashboard and declared, “Intactilis.”

Tiffany shivered as magic flooded gradually throughout the expensive car, as if it were being dipped in invisible paint. The sensation felt weird on her skin—or rather, the lack of sensation.

“All right,” her mother said, twisting in her seat again to look at Tiffany. “Falling Star, you might want to close your eyes.”

Tiffany did. Almost. She left one eye just barely squinted open: she didn’t wanna miss it. Her father pressed on the accelerator.

The cars in front of them didn’t move, but it didn’t matter: Father's car slid smoothly through the Manhattan gridlock like a ghost. Tiffany winced as she found herself phasing through women, children, and dogs. Several gasps and honks hit her ears, along with more than one exclamation of, “Freaking witches!”

They made it to the elementary school at a rate unheard of for a New Amsterdam morning. Her father parked the car outside the school—overlapping with another parked car—and her mother got out, opened Tiffany’s car door, and unbuckled her from her car seat. Once they were both on the sidewalk, Tiffany’s mother tapped them both and whispered, “Tactilis,” and Tiffany felt the air on her face once again.

“Well, I think that’s everything,” Tiffany’s mother said, stowing her wand again. “Work hard, be brilliant, meet new people, and let me know if any of the teachers give you a hard time, okay, Falling Star? Mother will handle it.”

Tiffany winced. “Mother,” she said, “please don’t call me that.”

“But you’re my little falling star!” Her mother leaned in and, with a little cutesy noise, pulled Tiffany into a hug.

“It’s weird!” Tiffany said, her voice muffled in her mother’s dress. “And there’s people around!” With some effort she struggled free of the hug. “Why do you even call me that, anyway?” she whispered, so the pedestrians on the sidewalk couldn’t hear.

“Because you’re a Vandergard, Tiffany.” Her mother crouched down, placed her hands on Tiffany’s shoulders, and looked her in the eyes. “And when a Vandergard touches down, she always makes a big impact.”

“Vicky!” her father called from the car. “We’ll be late to the conference!”

Her mother leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, and Tiffany allowed it. “Love you,” she said, and then tapped herself with her wand again. “Have a good day at school, Falling Star! We’ll pick you up right here, okay? Bye!”

Her mother waved as she stepped into the car, then closed the door. Tiffany’s father backed out of the space, and as he pulled out onto the road, Tiffany could see their car’s V hood ornament. Then it was gone, clipping through cars in defiance of the laws of physics and traffic alike.

Tiffany’s ears were on fire. She’d said it again. She’d said ‘Falling Star’ again, as if it wasn’t the weirdest nickname ever. And there were people around.

Still, it could be worse.

“Mom!” said another girl’s voice from further down the sidewalk. “Don’t call me that!”

“But you’re my little lambykins!” said the girl’s mother, a somewhat out-of-breath looking woman who scooped her up in a hug. “And you’re just the cutest little girl in the world, yes you are!”

“Mooooooooom!”

Tiffany hid her giggles behind her hand.

“All right,” the mother said, fishing a paper card from her purse and handing it to the girl. “You know how to use a MetroCard now, right? You have to get yourself home today. Dinner’s in the fridge, so just microwave it, okay? I’ll be home later.”

“Yeah, Mom,” came the resigned reply.

“Have fun at school! Good luck! Love you, Alice!” The woman leaned in for a kiss on the cheek, and then was backing away. “I’ve got to go or I’ll be late for work—bye, lambykins!” She twisted around as she moved, and was soon running down the sidewalk.

Alice stood there, alone on the pavement even as parents and kids walked by. She looked up at the building—Tiffany would say it looked like a castle, but she knew what real castles looked like and this wasn’t it—and gulped.

Well, Mother had said to make new friends.

Tiffany sidled closer, and eventually the girl—Alice—noticed. “What?” she said. “What’s so funny.”

Oh. Tiffany was still smiling. “Sorry,” she said. “I just… lambykins?”

“Shut up!” Alice huffed, shrugged her bookbag, and marched toward the steps.

“No, wait, I just mean—” Tiffany ran after her to catch up. “My mother does that too.”

“Does what?”

“Calls me something dumb. She calls me….” Tiffany looked around for potential eavesdroppers, then whispered, “‘Falling Star’.”

Alice stared resolutely ahead, and to her credit managed to keep it up for five seconds. But at length, a laugh burst out. “Falling Star?” she said, a little too loudly for Tiffany’s taste. “What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know!” Somehow it was easier to laugh about it with this girl than it was with her mother. Tiffany stuck her hand out once she was done giggling. “But you can call me Tiffany!”

“Alice.” Alice grabbed her hand and shook hard, even though she wasn’t very good at it.

It was recess, and Tiffany was gawping at the object in Alice’s hand. “You’re a witch too?” she whispered in their corner of the playground. “Mother says we’re really rare!”

“We are?” Alice twiddled her fingers, still holding her wand. “Mom’s a witch too, but she’s never said how many other witches there are in New York.”

“New Amsterdam.”

“What?”

“Uh… nevermind.”

“Anyway, I just know I haven’t met one. She….” She sighed. “She actually hasn’t told me a lot about being a witch—I check out a lot of books from the library. I’ve learned a bunch, though!” she added, perking up.

“Really? Show me!” Tiffany leaned in.

“Okay.”

Alice leaned toward the ground. Between the two of them, on the mess of woodchips that made up the playground’s surface, a little weed had sprung up. It wasn’t any taller than Tiffany’s foot, and only had two leaves to speak of. Alice took a deep breath, held the tip of her wand over the plant, and whispered, “Foraen mugrowna.”

The weed shimmered, and by and by it grew toward Alice’s wand. But only slowly. After a few seconds, it faded, having only grown about four inches. Alice sighed. “I know it’s not a lot—”

“That’s amazing!” Tiffany said, once her mouth had stopped being wide open. “I can’t do anything like that yet, and I’ve been practicing forever! All I know how to do is make stuff float so far!”

“R-really?”

“Yeah!” Tiffany shrugged. “Not like it matters. I’m not that interested in magic—but wow! You’re gonna be a great witch some day!”

Alice blushed. “Thanks…. I wish I could do more, but my mom’s apartment isn’t that close to the Sorcerer's Stone at Vandergard House. This school’s a lot closer, but….”

Tiffany gasped, and leaped to her feet. “You should come to my house after school! I’m sure Mother would be happy to have you, and we could practice magic together!”

Alice looked up. “Do you live close to the Vandergards or something?”

Tiffany could only giggle until Alice’s eyes widened. “No way,” she said.

“Your house is so big!” Alice yelled, as she got out of the Vandergards’ car.

“Yes, yes,” Tiffany admitted. It was pretty big—bigger than the school, and a lot prettier. A giant V emblem was emblazoned on the front like on the car’s hood ornament. Best of all was the green-blue light shining from the highest tower, where her parents said their family’s Sorcerer’s Stone was located.

Speaking of which. “Try it, try it!” she said.

Alice stared at her for a moment before her eyes widened in comprehension. She bounded toward a flower bed, wand in hand, and yelled, “Foraen mugrowna!”

The marigold she was pointing at shimmered, then vibrated, then burst five feet out of the ground. It towered over Alice and Tiffany, and they gaped at it.

“That was amazing!” Tiffany eventually said. “I knew it would look better here—”

“Hey!”

Tiffany and Alice looked around to see Tiffany’s father stomping toward them, with a dark look on his face. “Who said you could mess with the flowerbeds?” he demanded.

Tiffany and Alice gulped.

A second later, her father’s expression cleared up like a storm vanishing, and he laughed. “I'm kidding. Gotcha! Have fun, you crazy kids!”

“Dear,” her mother admonished, following him up the stairs and into the house.

“Come on,” Tiffany said, taking Alice’s hand and dragging her around the house to the backyard. It took a while.

“But—this is amazing!” Alice said. “How are you not just doing magic all the time?”

“Eh.” Tiffany shrugged. “I mean, magic’s cool, but….”

They reached the backyard, but Tiffany kept going, pulling Alice until they reached the shed. She flung the door open with her free hand, then gestured at the treasure trove within. “I’ve never thought it was as cool as flying.”

Alice froze. “Is that....” She gulped, and spoke again. “Are those brooms? Like, witches’ brooms?”

“Uh… yeah?” Tiffany leaped inside and grabbed her second favorite one from the dozen inside, all arranged in a neat row. “This one’s B grade, thirty inches. You can have it if you want.”

Alice wasn’t responding, but Tiffany wasn’t looking. “I know, only B grade,” she continued, “but I’m afraid this one’s mine.” She grabbed the best one of the bunch, three spots down. “A grade, thirty three inches. One of the best brooms in the country, and made just for me.”

She turned around, and saw that Alice wasn’t following her. Slowly, Alice reached out, a bit like a person at an art museum who knew they weren’t supposed to touch the masterpieces. Which was weird because of course she was supposed to touch these. They were brooms. “Come on,” Tiffany said, “pick one so we can race!”

“I… I’ve…” Alice frowned and looked off to the side.

“What’s the matter?” Tiffany bounded back out, broom in hand. “You’ve ridden before, right?”

“What? Uh, yeah! A ton!” Alice said, trying in vain to hide her shameful blush with a hand. Finally she sighed. “I… don’t have any brooms at home.”

Tiffany gasped.

“I’ve… never even ridden one before.” Alice looked absolutely miserable. “I think I’ve seen one, like, at the museum?” she offered.

Tiffany kept staring, and Alice backed away. “Is that, like, okay? Are we still friends, or—”

Tiffany ran back into the shed, grabbed a broom, ran out, and shoved it into Alice’s hands. “I’m going to teach you to fly right now!”

It was a few years later, and it was summer, and they were drenched in sweat.

Not just because it was summer, though.

“You two,” Alice’s mother said, crouching to look at the girls’ eye level, “need to know when to slow down.”

“Sorry, Mom,” Alice panted, her face red with exertion. She sounded about as sorry as Tiffany felt—not at all. Tiffany glanced over her shoulder again to see the good work they’d done; two patches of flowers, grown to unnatural heights by Foraen Mugrowna. Tiffany's flowers were ten feet tall, but Alice's would have surpassed twenty feet if they hadn't started drooping in the middle. Either way, Alice had won.

If only Alice's mother cared. Instead she tutted and pulled out her wand. “You need to stay hydrated in the summer heat,” she said, whisking it around in the air. A pitcher of lemonade appeared in the air, and beneath it two glasses—well, that wasn’t quite right: one ornate glass bottle, and one plastic cup. As usual.

Tiffany and Alice both sighed as the pitcher poured, its stream of lemonade bifurcating to fill both cups at the same rate. “Drink up, you two!” she said, and the two full containers floated forward. As usual, Tiffany got the glass and Alice got the cup.

“Thanks, Mom,” Alice said, still as red as before, but not from exertion. She looked as ashamed as if her mother had called her ‘lambykins’ a hundred times, and Tiffany for her part felt no small amount of fremdscham—a word she’d had to look up to describe how she felt when this happened, because it kept happening.

“Why does your mother do that?” she hissed, as both of them beat a retreat from Alice’s mother.

“I don’t know….” Alice took another deep breath, then a long draught from her cup. Once she’d swallowed, she poured what was left over her short black hair and continued, “I think it’s because she makes less money than your parents do.”

“No she doesn’t! My parents don’t make money, they just have money.” Tiffany pouted. She tried doing the same thing Alice was doing, but it only got her white-blonde hair wet. She didn’t see what was so good about that. “And also drag me to conferences. Your mother goes and does things, and leaves you alone.”

Alice sighed. “It’s not as fun as it sounds. But hey—” she smiled “—at least I get to come over here when she’s working late. What do you want to do next?”

“How about….” Tiffany flicked up her wand, and the door to the shed burst open; Tiffany’s and Alice’s brooms flew out into Tiffany’s hand. “A broom race! First one around the grounds wins!” She held out Alice’s broom.

Alice ughed, and Tiffany wished she had a better word for it than that. “We always do that, and you always win!”

“You’re always better at magic! Fair’s fair!”

“Then why do you keep challenging me at magic?”

“I dunno, so we can be the best witches ever?”

Alice blushed and looked away.

Tiffany sighed, then perked her ears: Alice’s mother seemed to be saying something. “And let me restate,” she said to Tiffany’s parents, joining them on the veranda, “what a pleasure it is to be invited over. You know Alice has such fun here.”

“Happy to have her,” Tiffany’s father said, smiling widely and knocking back a bottle of beer. “I’m just glad our girl’s been able to find a friend.”

“Oh, and I feel the same way!” Alice’s mother said quickly.

“Yes, we’re all very happy.” Tiffany’s mother smiled. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but if we could just finalize the details of our agreement….”

“Of course,” Alice’s mother said, and what she said next was too quiet for Tiffany to hear from a distance.

Tiffany looked over to see Alice was watching too; then, the two of them shared a look. Then they ducked behind a hedge, moving in concert, and sat down. “You’re thinking what I’m thinking?” Alice said.

“Of course,” Tiffany said.

Alice pulled out her wand. “I love hanging out at your parents’ place.”

Tiffany grinned. This was a grown-up conversation, and even better, it was a grown-up conversation that they didn’t want the kids overhearing. Which automatically made it more interesting than even a broom race.

Alice jiggled her wand in a complicated pattern, one Tiffany could neither describe nor replicate, then held it straight up and whispered, “Subausculto.” A crackle of radio static came through first, but after a few seconds Tiffany was able to hear the voices of her parents and Alice’s mother.

“—magically signed and sealed,” Alice’s mother said. “It’s done.”

“Good. You won’t regret this,” Tiffany’s mother replied. “Your daughter is going to get a chance to be fully immersed in the world of magic. It’s an incredible privilege!”

“Yes, right.” Alice’s mother sighed. “I just… it seems like it shouldn’t be so hard. She reads to me, you know? She knows more about witchcraft than I do, I swear—she’s going to be extraordinary—and recently she’s found this book about the old days of Yggdrasil, and the Nine Olde Witches. When magic was everywhere, and a witch didn’t need to go to any special lengths to find it.”

“Ah, the Olde Days,” Tiffany’s mother said, and then made a sound suggesting a shiver of revulsion. “Those must have been dreadful times to live in.”

A pause. “Pardon?”

“Well, think about it. It must have been the Wild West! Any hoodlum could shove a wand in your face and say, ‘hands up, or I’ll blow your head off’!” Another shuddering noise from Tiffany’s mother. “I’d hate to live in those days. How much nicer things are now, when we can make sure the right people have access, and magic can be regulated like it should be.”

Tiffany frowned, and mulled this over in her head, like a new food she wasn’t sold on yet. It made sense.

It seemed to make sense to Alice’s mother too, who grunted and said, “Well, I suppose when you put it that way….”

“Bethany, please. Would I mislead you?” Tiffany’s mother laughed. “Oh, and girls?”

Tiffany and Alice froze.

“Yes, you two,” she said in the warm voice. “Tiffany and Alice. If you’re going to eavesdrop, you may as well come over here. Now.”

Tiffany and Alice complied wordlessly, standing up and walking to the veranda, where Tiffany’s mother waited with a smile. “Good spellwork, Alice,” she said, “but you’ve got a lot to learn about secrecy.” She pointed up, and Tiffany looked to see a shimmering patch of air at the top of the veranda—the focal point of the eavesdropping spell.

Alice sighed, and the shimmering dissipated.

“Anyway,” Tiffany’s father continued, “we would have kept this a secret until dinner, but there’s no reason not to tell you now.” He nodded at Alice’s mother. “Beth, would you like to do the honors?”

“What? Yes, right.” Alice’s mother took a deep breath, looking distinctly frazzled. “Alice, you know how your ninth birthday’s coming up next week? And how you’ve always been asking what witch school you’d go to when you were older, and I never replied because we never really had the….”

She trailed off. Tiffany’s mother picked up. “And Tiffany, you know how we’re going to that conference next week?” Tiffany pouted, and her mother added, “You know we’ll do our absolute utmost to get you home in time for Alice’s party. All right, Star?”

Tiffany kept pouting. Star was about as far down as she’d been able to argue her parents from Falling Star, at least with other people around.

“Anyway,” Tiffany’s mother said, “just in case we don’t get back in time, we figured we’d tell you both the big news today. Bethany, if you would?” she said, looking at Alice’s mother.

Alice’s mother seemed to be struggling to get the words out. “Alice,” she began, and bit her tongue. Finally she took a deep breath, and said in trembling tones, “Lamb, you’re going to go to Luna Nova.”

Alice’s jaw dropped like in the cartoons.

So did Tiffany’s, but she got it back up faster. “Alice!” she yelled. “I’m gonna go to Luna Nova too! We’ll get to go together! This is amazing!”

“Nothing but the best for my daughter,” Tiffany’s mother said, stepping forward to ruffle Tiffany’s still-wet hair, “and for my daughter’s best friend. We’ll be covering both your tuitions.”

Alice finally got her mouth muscles working again. “I don’t know… I don’t know what to say,” she said, and heaved a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“That’s an excellent start,” Tiffany’s mother said.

“But wait,” Tiffany said, looking at Alice’s mother. “You said something about a contract.”

“Oh, that?” Alice’s mother smiled. “That’s just the old Gainesbury pride acting up. I could never accept an offer like this without doing a few favors for your family. Boring grown-up stuff, you know.”

Well, if it was boring. Tiffany immediately started ignoring her again and moved in to hug Alice. “This is amazing! We’ll get to go to school together forever!”

“Yeah,” Alice said, and heaved another deep breath. “It’s great.” She smiled, and her skin shone with sweat. “Let’s do that broom race after all, okay?”

“Okay! Thanks, Mother!” Tiffany curtsied, then ran back to where they’d left the brooms. Alice followed at a rather reduced pace. “Last one around is a rotten—hey,” she said, as Alice staggered over. “Are you okay?”

“M’fine,” Alice mumbled, “just kind of hot. I’ll be fine in a bit.”

“All right, but if you have to stop to take a break, I’m not waiting around for you!” Tiffany laughed, then held her broom under herself. “Tia freyre!”

The broom lifted her up about a foot and a half from the ground. Behind her, and with less enthusiasm, Alice repeated the words.

“Ready?” Tiffany said. Then, without waiting for a response, she yelled, “Three! Two! One!”

She heard a flump from behind her. Not the sound of someone taking off with a broom, but the sound of someone falling off one.

Tiffany whirled around to see Alice on the ground, face up and eyes unfocused. Her skin looked red, but she wasn’t sweating. “Alice?” Tiffany said.

“Tiffany?” she whimpered. “Something’s wrong, I feel really bad inside, get Mom….” Her eyes flicked left and right wildly. “Mom?” she said, clearly trying to yell, but unable. “Mom—help—”

Tiffany rushed to Alice’s side. “Mother?” she yelled, hearing the panic in her voice without really understanding it. “Something’s really wrong with Alice! It’s okay,” she added, looking back down at Alice, “you just need some water or some shade or something—”

What was that spell for making water? Alice had to know, Tiffany’s mother had to know. Why didn’t Tiffany know? “Mother!” she yelled again, seeing her mother hurry over, but not nearly fast enough.

“Tiffany,” Alice mumbled, “help me—”

Her hand rose from the ground, fingers scrabbling for Tiffany’s sleeve. Then her eyes rolled back, and her hand fell.

“Alice? Are you okay? Alice!”

#little witch academia #fanfiction #falling stars

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