[The evening before.]

“Aaaah... Mr Arazm! I heard you were taking on a more official tutoring duty this year? I wonder how that will work...”

“Well, it's actually more or less a class! Students sign up for personal mentoring with me that can count towards school course credits. We develop their personalized curriculum together and set a goal for them to accomplish in order to obtain passing marks.”

“I don't really care for the details. What I wanted to say was how absurb it is that the Headmaster would deem you worthy of teaching our Apprentice Magistravi Elite when you yourself never cast spells aside from the basics.”

“Well, Mr Orvo, as you may recall a position was created to keep me within these walls. No doubt the Headmaster has reason to believe in me. I was quite the Elite myself during my time at Aledine.”

“Don't try to fool me about what you were or weren't as a student Auguste. Lest you forget, I was the Director of Advanced Studies while you were here as a boy. You were, at best, the Elite of disappointment. Such a grasp of profoundly difficult theorems, yet utter inability to apply them.”

“You placed your own glory into the hands of a boy who knew better... You confuse inability with wisdom, Crescensis”

“Ah yes, the speaches again... That ancient man did weave quite the tight veil to blind you didn't he? Odd, really, how a man with ridiculous power like Stanislas Korbo would vanish from his social cicle, become a nanny – of all things – and raise a boy who believes a magical handicap to be wisdom.”

“This conversation will enlighten neither one of us, Mr Orvo. Please, accept my polite dismissal of your company.”

“So stoic, as always! Stoicism brings people nowhere Auguste. Power does.” 

The last words had barely left his old teacher's lips that Auguste could sense the spell coming. Over the years he had developed an uncanny ability to sense people's intent, to analyze their will power. This sixth sense had propelled Oggie's prowess with magical energy manipulation, “Meddling” as he called it, to new untold of heights. In the end, that's what it all boiled down to: a battle of will to see who would maintain control over the energy. He compared it to vectors. The force needed to either cancel or deviate the intended movement depended on the original vector itself. What direction was the Magistrava going in? What did he or she seek to achieve? That was where people made fatal flaws and that is where Auguste could strike.

Crescensis Orvo was no apprentice. He had almost as much experience as the Headmaster in his art and was by no means to be taken lightly. Auguste could sense his will clearly though and knew almost instantly which aspect of the spell to attack. As soon as his former-teacher-turned-rival gestured, declaring the end of his quite brief incantation, Oggie simply turned around to face him and looked at him straight in the eyes. People around them grew silent, as if waiting for the climax. Suddenly... Nothing happened. Crescensis lowered a brow and looked into his former pupil's eyes. The elderly man burst out a single word, ever so slightly flicking his right hand... Nothing again. It was a done deal, and Auguste knew it. The first spell unwoven was always the most difficult. His targets could never sufficiently recover from the surprise and frustration to find a window in which to cast their spells. 

The two men looked at each other intensely for as much as a few seconds; a veritable lifetime as far as intense moments are concerned. Crescensis was panicking because he had no idea what was happening, and Auguste was calm and in control. At last the still-Director of Advanced Studies belched out laughing the fakest of forced laughs Oggie had ever heard. “You see, ladies and gentlemen! The all-mighty Auguste Arazm has stripped me of my powers with his mundane philosophies! Don't spend too much time listening to his nonsense or the void composing his mystical abilities will suck you dry as well!” The old man laughed some more, a few people joining him. He left the room as he wiped his fake-tear-of-laughter of the side of his cheek and, as soon as he was out of sight, gracefully opened his hand revealing a single speck of light. He closed his fist sharply. “Curse him.”

[At the opening ceremony.]

Auguste walked onto the stage and sat down behind the podium where, if found, the class representative and Headmaster would address the assembly. He turned his head lightly and watched other faculty members panicking backstage. Amongst them was the lovely Mr Orvo who, oddly enough, would never lock eyes...