Fall in love in a weekwe get by

“Professor Norwood is in London,” Charlotte responded as if she hadn’t heard me. “And the director hasn’t received news for a long time.” Be careful. She is a strong witch, she can’t guess everything. So just repeat after me. The memory of Charlotte is not yet lost in me.

What?! “Did I understand you correctly? You wanted to make him fall in love with you, and you yourself reported him to the director?! Oh no, tell me I'm wrong."

– Gossip and news. And in return – prestigious work and respect. For many there is nothing strange about this. Maskelyne holds Professor Norwood tightly, very tightly. This is not a friendly or even a working relationship, everything is more complicated. Charlotte didn't care. She didn't know the details. And you don’t need to know about them yet.

I remembered Sabella’s words that Dougal was not at the Academy of his own free will. There was definitely some kind of ugly story lurking here!

“Don’t get into it,” Charlotte seemed to have heard my thoughts. – This doesn't concern you.

I just wanted to ask why suddenly the affairs and problems of the one I should fall in love with do not concern me, but then a tiny bright green bird hovered right in front of my nose. ?on appeared out of nowhere, and I almost jumped again, and the bird scattered into sparks and folded into a note: “Miss Blair, I’m expecting you at my place in the next 20 minutes.”

There was no signature.

– No signature is needed, this is Maskelyne’s personal spell – the messenger. Nobody sends these anymore. Go, Charlotte was always in a hurry. She was flattered by the director's attention.

Yes, thank you for having lunch. “Lead.” If you remember, I don’t know the way.”

It didn’t take long to look for the headmistress’s office; it was located not far from the main entrance. A pretentious double door made of mahogany with two white marble statues on the sides looked quite organically in the chic hall, I had even seen it before, but for some reason I thought that there was a conference room or something like that there.

The luxurious, spacious office smelled of cinnamon. The sun poured down on the soft, creamy, long-pile carpet that sank your feet into, and was reflected in the thick golden ruffled curtains and massive chandelier. Award cups were crowded on the shelves under steep-sided, obviously rare vases. The walls were covered with framed diplomas. Every cabinet, every chair here seemed to say: “Well, look, look how good we are! We are here for a reason, we help light the stars.” And in the middle of this, either a museum or a living room, a lady was sitting at a massive table.

She was as perfect as her office, and just as… not lifeless, no, but… I froze, trying to find the right word. Decorative? Representative? A formal suit in the color of café au lait – I hate this shade! A snow-white blouse, a large jasper brooch under the collar – exactly the same reddish shade as the hair styled in a high, strict hairstyle. There aren't many cosmetics at first glance, but that's exactly what appears at first glance. Very expensive, and the face was “painted” by a very skillful stylist.

Slightly plump, sensual lips formed a welcoming smile, and Charlotte prompted in my ear:

– Good afternoon, director.

I repeated after her, the headmistress nodded favorably.

“Come on in, my dear, don’t stand there.” Tea?

Friendliness and benevolence oozed from her. Don't get poisoned by this artificial sweetness.

“No, thank you,” I wanted to answer, but Charlotte got ahead of me.

– Thank you, director, with pleasure.

I no longer felt like an actor with a prompter, but like a brainless parrot who repeats what he is told.

Cups appeared in front of the headmistress and me. Only the pudding was missing; instead there was a plate of strawberry roll and a bowl of jam. The picture was painfully reminiscent of yesterday. Only now it wasn’t Sabella sitting opposite me. This woman, unlike that one, did not evoke any positive emotions.

“Well, my dear Miss Blair, we haven’t seen each other for so long.” Surely you will please me with something interesting?

"How? Explosion in the laboratory?"

– This is small for her. Speak: yesterday Doctor Norwood received a letter from Munich. His publication came out there. Invited to the conference. And two days ago a package arrived from Isolde Svenson. With agreed upon clinical trial protocols and calculation of a refined formulation for an anti-hangover mixture. Everything is approved, you can apply for a patent.

– Anti-hangover? – the headmistress asked with a slight hint of disgust. “But by the way…” She thought for a moment, sipping her tea in small sips, and Charlotte prompted me:

– You drink too. Take the roll and praise it: it’s a wonderful sponge cake. She bakes them herself. A little innocent hobby.

The biscuit was indeed not bad, but the amount of sugar in the filling exceeded all imaginable limits.