“No, sir,” Emily said. She felt a flash of disappointment. Was she not being dismissed? “I ... I don’t think so.”
“It’s a permanent record.” Gordian touched his hand to the wax seal, his lips moving soundlessly as he murmured a charm. Emily couldn’t make out the words, but the wax seal dropped off a second later and fell into Gordian’s hand. “We rarely show them to anyone but the parents or guardians of the student in question. Eventually, they become a matter of public record.”
Emily frowned. She’d assumed she had a permanent record, but she’d never seen it. Had Void? Or any of the other tutors? A spy in Whitehall might be able to read it ... she shrugged, dismissing the thought. Her permanent record wouldn’t include anything that would make a reader raise their eyebrows. She doubted Gordian had written anything about Emily’s influence over the wards where someone else might see it.
“This is your friend’s record.” Gordian removed a pair of nasty-looking hexes from the scroll, then held it out to Emily. “Have a look.”
Emily hesitated. “Am I allowed to look?”
“I am authorized to share these with anyone, if I see fit,” Gordian said. “And besides, you are listed as one of Frieda’s guardians.”
“I am?”
“Yes.” Gordian pushed the scroll towards her. “You’re listed as an unattached guardian.”
Emily took the scroll and opened it, slowly. She wasn’t sure she wanted to look. It felt as though she was invading Frieda’s privacy, even though she knew Gordian and the other tutors could—and did—read the scroll whenever they liked. Her fingers felt oddly uncertain as she placed the scroll on the table, skimming the first set of lines. Someone—Lady Barb or Grandmaster Hasdrubal—had definitely listed Emily as one of Frieda’s guardians.
Third in line, after Lady Barb and Sergeant Miles, she mused. Lady Barb had never mentioned being Frieda’s guardian. Emily had never considered the possibility. But someone would have had to take on the role, after Frieda left Mountaintop. It was more of a surprise that Emily had been included on the list. Baroness of Cockatrice or not, the magical community wouldn’t see her as an adult until she left school. That will make life interesting, if I ever have to use the title.
She looked up. “Sir ... what do you want me to see?”
“The records for her Fourth Year,” Gordian said. “You might find them ... interesting.”
Emily eyed him suspiciously, then opened the scroll still further. Frieda had done well in her third year, she noted, but she’d been marked down repeatedly for her theoretical work. Her Fourth Year—only six weeks into the year—was marred by over thirty disciplinary notes, including nine trips to the Warden. Emily swallowed, hard, as the meaning dawned on her.
“Frieda’s behavior has gone downhill,” Gordian said, putting it into words. “Sharply downhill, I might add. There is no record of someone else earning quite so many thrashings in such a short space of time. The vast majority of students don’t earn so many thrashings in all six years. Not handing in her homework, talking back to her tutors, fighting with her classmates ... she’s really gone downhill.”
Emily felt her heart sink. “I ...”
“There is a very good chance that her marks will fall below acceptable levels by the time we reach the second half-term,” Gordian said, his voice carefully controlled. “I have reviewed some of her work personally. It has a number of mistakes that she should have been able to avoid, even as a younger student. I am not impressed.”
“I didn’t know.” Emily swallowed, hard. “What ... what happens if her marks stay low?”
“It would depend,” Gordian said. “If there was a good chance that she wouldn’t be able to complete the year, regardless of her performance on the exams, she would normally be offered a chance to retake the year. But her behavior has been so poor over the last few weeks that I would hesitate to allow it.”
“She ... she wasn’t that bad with me,” Emily said. “I ...”
But Frieda hexed a pair of younger students, her thoughts pointed out. And she’s still unable to come to grips with her joint project.
“That is not my concern,” Gordian said. “What should be your concern is that you are ... associated ... with Frieda.”
“She’s my friend,” Emily snapped.
“And people judge you by the friends you keep.” Gordian tapped the scroll, meaningfully. “This friend is on a rapid course towards expulsion, Lady Emily. And she might bring you down too. You do not want people thinking you treat her any differently from anyone else.”
“Because that would be so uncommon here,” Emily snarled. She took a long breath, forcing herself to calm down. “I don’t know how to handle it.”
“I suggest that you tell her to shape up before it’s too late,” Gordian said. “And if she doesn’t, I would advise you to dump her. Her behavior reflects on you. If she’s bad, she’ll make you look bad too.”
“I’m not going to dump her,” Emily said.
“Then she might bring you down with her too.” Gordian took the scroll and started to roll it up. “We generally discourage friendships between students in different years, Lady Emily. This is why.”
Emily fought down a couple of nasty responses. She and Caleb were friends—and they’d been lovers—but they’d been in the same year, when they’d met. Frieda was two years younger than Emily, a gap that the vast majority of the student body would consider insurmountable. And yet, no one had said anything when Emily had spent time with Jade, back in her first year ...
We were in Martial Magic together, she reminded herself. And the sergeants would have taken a dim view of any hanky-panky.
“I’ll talk to her about it,” she said. “But ...”
“It isn’t uncommon for the less ... academically-inclined students to have problems as they move up in years,” Gordian said. “That is understandable. Sometimes, repeating a year is the best thing for them. But I cannot tolerate bad behavior on this scale. Frieda is not just hurting herself, Emily. She’s hurting others.”
“I understand,” Emily said.
“I would advise you to have nothing more to do with her,” Gordian said. “But you wouldn’t listen, would you?”
Emily felt a hot flash of anger. “Are you always so ... so callous?”
“I’m old enough to know that some people are beyond help,” Gordian said. “And such people are always going to drag you down, if you let them.”
He put the scroll back in the drawer, then slammed it closed. “I have heard from the Dueling League,” he added. “They’ll be sending observers to the first round.”
“Oh.” Emily wasn’t ready to pretend enthusiasm. Maybe, next term, she could dump the club on Cirroc. “Did they accept the planned rules?”
“For the moment,” Gordian said. “They’ll want us to change them later, I think. Our students will acquire bad habits.”
“More bad habits,” Emily said, before she could stop herself.