Darcie's Training Begins - The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn! (II)

No matter how Darcie looked around, she couldn't help but conclude that they were deep into the muggle's society.

It was then Madam Villanelle suddenly stopped.

"Darcie," she said, looking down at her with a rare solemnity. "Remember, the two figures we are meeting today are exceptionally outstanding, even though their history and achievements were tampered with by the Order.

"They have a brilliant command over countless subjects. But their personality…

"Sigh! Hmm, it's you, so it should be fine, I guess."

"I…" Darcie mumbled, her nose gaining a red tinge. "… I don't understand."

Madam Villanelle shook her head.

"Just be yourself," she advised. "I have an inkling that they will test your aptitude first, both magical and logical."

"Mentor," Darcie squeaked, rather sharply, "where are we?!"

Madam Villanelle held Darcie's hand and brought her to a Georgian Terrace, a yellow bulb lighting the house number on the main door.

"We are in London," she told Darcie. "And the individuals we are visiting are — ghosts."

Darcie couldn't believe her eyes. She spun her head once more to the street before coming back to the metallic plate.

"221B Baker Street…" she mumbled, ghostly. "This… but this…"

Darcie scarcely lost her composure, but if something could shake her, then it was certainly this address.

221B Baker Street was the address of the worldly famous fictional detective Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, Darcie remembered.

Though she had read none of the books related to him personally, it was hard to not recall this name when she was blessed with an exceptional memory.

"We…" Darcie found herself short of words.

"It's just a front," Madam Villanelle told her, flicking her wand. "The actual residence is concealed from the eyes of muggles and most of the wizardkind as well."

A bright light shone out of the wand, and the nameplate lit up, transforming into a many-colored cross, with round edges, and covered in strange geometrical configurations and glyphs.

It didn't end there.

The entire building was undergoing some mystical change as if this cross had opened up a hidden chamber.

Darcie's pupils trembled.

"Have you seen this before?" Madam Villanelle asked, pointing at the cross. "Well, all introductions can wait. Let's go."

Darcie mechanically pressed forward as Madam Villanelle opened the main door.

They took seventeen steps of stairs to arrive at another door, which opened up the moment the older witch tapped her wand on it.

The witches entered a dark hall, cold fog lingering in its darker corners.

"God!" Madam Villanelle pointed her wand at the fireplace, making it explode with fire. "You could build a fire at the least, couldn't you?"

"Haha!"

A boisterous laugh echoed in the hall, but it also felt lacking substance.

The entire hall lit up with lanterns and candles, then.

This hall was a large sitting room, Darice observed.

It was cheerfully furnished and illuminated by two broad windows.

In the middle of the room, on a table, there was some kind of construct.

Darcie couldn't see this construct, because hovering between her and the table were two old ghosts, smiling at her.

The left ghost, richly dressed, had a thick mustache. There was an odd glint in his ghostly eyes as he looked at Darcie as if he were discerning secrets from her little appearance.

The right ghost, with a mustache not thinner than the first ghost, had a comely smile on his face.

In his hands, there was a ghostly book. One could barely discern that the cover of the thick book had been black and gold when it was real.

Both ghosts were smoking pipes, puffs of smoke leaving their smokier appearance.

Darcie recognized them, thunderstruck.

Madam Villanelle stepped forward.

"Here she is," she began, putting a hand over the young Malfoy's shoulder. "Darcie Malfoy."

Then Madam Villanelle looked down at Darcie and winked.

"Darcie," she said, introducing the ghosts, her hand pointing at the ghost left to them, first. "You are in the presence of Sir Arthur Ignatius Conan Doyle — the Chief of the 1st Circle."

Sir Conan Doyle laughed, lifted his hat, and bowed.

Nobility was rooted in Darcie's bones.

Though utterly gobsmacked, Darcie gave a curtsy as expected of her status, birth, and manners.

Madam Villanelle nodded at that.

"To our right," she continued, pointing at the ghost holding the book, "we have the great mystic expert, Arthur Edward Waite — the Chief of the 2nd Circle.

"With your reading habit, you must have realized where we are…"

Darcie had to nod.

She should have realized sooner when Madam Villanelle told her it was an organization recommended by Orange Seat, Hermes Trismegistus, and Purple Seat, King Solomon.

The ghost of A. E. Waite glided toward Darcie, smiling amiably.

"Welcome to the secret society devoted to the study and practice of occult Hermeticism and metaphysics," he said, his voice thinner than fog. "Welcome to…"

The ghost of Sir Arthur Doyle glided in, and both ghosts said together.

"… The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn!"

*

*

Darcie and Madam Villanelle had taken the comfortable chairs near the fireplace after having a sumptuous dinner.

To Darcie's right, the fire blazed red and blue, sending ripples of warmth.

It all felt like a fairytale come true to her; mysterious and unbelievable.

And she was a witch.

The source of her struggling gaze lay to her left.

There, a few hands apart, the two ghosts were seated in high-back chairs, puffing out smoke from their pipes.

Darcie glanced at them from the corner of her eyes for the umpteenth time.

"Waite is the Chief of the 2nd Circle," Madam Villanelle introduced, now more formally. "He is an expert Diviner, with a specialization in tarot card reading and Geomancy.

"His command over Hermetic Kabbalah and its interrelation with the Classical Elements is still unmatched. Not to mention, he is a great Astrologist as well."

The ghost on Darcie's left smiled.

"Now, now," Mr. Waite said, chuckling, "you didn't mention my grasp over Dark Magic, Blood Magic, Necro—"

"Waite!" Sir Doyle thundered, almost flying off his chair. "Control your ghostly self, will you?"

"I was merely correcting her," A. E. Waite's ghost said, smiling amiably.

Darcie's eyes widened.

In front of her, the corner of Madam Villanelle's lips twitched ruefully.

"Ahem!" the older witch cleared her throat. "Arthur is the Chief of the 1st Circle," she introduced. "He is an expert Scryer and a researcher of the lost art of Astral Travel.

"With his mastery over Herbology and Potioneering, Arthur's status is no less than a Grand Healer."

"Little girl!" Sir Doyle sharply rebuked Madam Villanelle. "You don't know half of it, do you? You didn't even mention the two things which I was and am famous for.

"Runology and Mind! Darcie, I am second to none in the art of Occlu—"

"Arthur…" The ghost of Mr. Waite was still smiling, but one could see his ghostly fingers tightening over the book in his hands. "You are forgetting manners, old friend."

Darcie was gobsmacked.

She mechanically looked toward her mentor, who had gone red in shame.

Now she understood why Madam Villanelle had been so troubled regarding these two ghosts' personalities.

Both were greater braggarts than the other.

Yet, no matter how stunned, Darcie hadn't failed to notice the words spoken by either of them… and the words that almost came out but left unspoken.

Occlumency!

The word raged in Darcie's mind.

Could she truly learn this ancient art from the best? Had the time come, finally?

Madam Villanelle tapped on her wineglass to bring attention toward her.

"Darcie, you must know by now that Ghosts can't use Magic, per se," she told her, a bashful smile lingering on her lips. "Arthur and Waite will teach you the basics as per the Six's instructions.

"They both are adept in Alchemy and its countless applications. Moreover, I will be here with you all the time during your training to help you with magic.

"What? You didn't think I would leave you alone with two old men, did you?"

Darcie did not know what to say.

"Thank you, mentor," she said, at last, knowing well that with Madam Villanelle with her, she could use her wand, no matter how poorly.

"You sounded like the deal's done," Sir Arthur Conan Doyle remarked, puffing out smoke.

Then he pointed the mouth of his pipe toward Darcie. "We two have heard a lot about you, young lady. All praises, of course. But we have our own — standards."

Mr. Waite's smile had all but vanished.

"Arthur's right, I am afraid," he told her, not unkindly. "The two Secret Chiefs (-the Seats-) have commanded us to see to your training in many aspects, but unless you meet the quality we need in a student, we can't accept you in the Hermetic Order and our midst."

"Now…"

"Madam Villanelle." Sir Arthur cut in, raising his hand. "It was the sole reason we didn't train you in the past as well."

What?! Darcie's eyes widened. They even refused to accept a biblical reincarnated witch?!

Madam Villanelle gave Darcie a helpless smile.

"It's for Darcie's good only," Mr. Waite added, his tone calmer than Sir Doyle's. "If she lacks compatibility with our teaching methods and thought process, then this training would only do her more harm than good, madam."

"It's not the time to soften your words, old friend," Sir Arthur Conan Doyle glided up. "Darcie, if you want to learn from us, then recommendations, no matter from whom they have come, are not enough.

"You must prove yourself to us. You must show us your understanding, problem-solving and logical deduction skills, and your attitude toward the unknown and unpredictable scenarios. Do you accept it?"

Madam Villanelle had gone awfully quiet suddenly.

Darcie gave her mentor a look and threw herself off the chair.

There was nothing but calm and composure on her face, but her heart was pounding with excitement.

Why wouldn't she accept it? "I accept all challenges, Arthur."

Why wouldn't she show-off here, in front of these two scholars? "I want to learn… everything."

Why wouldn't she go all out when…

"I think," Darcie mumbled, stepping in, "we are — fated with each other."