There was something to be said for being able to stay up late and work off minimal sleep. When you were a witch, things were even better. That meant you could do whatever you wanted while magic was the strongest. Jack was a lucky man since his power was in spells and potions. So he could learn them rather quickly and would rarely ever fail. His room looked like something out of a horror movie. His right wall was covered
with jars of who knows what. They had been all sent to him by his grandmother who thought that he would need more ingredients than he would ever really need. She had sent him
his cauldron. That was what Jack was currently doing. He was working on a potion for his collection. He needed an antidote for a few different potions so he was working on a basic cure potion.
The only thing that seemed out of place was a framed old picture. On it was two young people of opposite genders. One of them, the man seemed identical to Jack to the point where it was almost scary. Jack contended that this guy was his father.
Jack looked down at his cauldron as he dropped a spring of mint into it. "
Sana quod postulo vos sanare . Iubeo. Sic erit" Jack chanted in Latin. He could use anything but his spells were mainly in Latin or French. So it was so. Jack looked back at his grimoire and sighed. He was going to have wait a few hours before he could finally bottle it up. So Jack figured now was a good time to get to class. He had a potion class and spell work to do. So he went out of his room and walked towards the school grounds. As he walked he saw that guy, Thomas. There was something off about him.
"You're Thomas right?" He asked as his accent gained it's creole twang. "I thought I have seen you around." He said trying to start a conversation.
@TheIrishJJ
Alisdragon911
