Wizard student Xabar Greether

Xabar yawned openly, making no effort to disguise his boredom. His 6-foot, 1-inch body sprawled carelessly over the chair, with one foot resting on the desk in front of him. His dark eyes rolled in overly-dramatic expression at the words being spoken to him, and he kept looking at the clock as if trying to will the seconds to pass faster.

“This is no small matter, Xabar,” said the old man behind the desk. Master Greether was the respected chancellor of Häzadertroth’s Academy, and he had commanded respect wherever he went for well over 200 years. Rarely had he encountered anyone as insolent as the 20-year-old young man in front of him. The fact that this student was also his son made this all the more difficult.

He picked up a paper from his desk and put on his reading glasses. “I have a letter from five of your instructors, demanding that I take action concerning you.” He reads the letter. “There are serious charges here, Xabar. They say you are insolent and arrogant.”

The young man smirks. “Everyone thinks you are arrogant when you are better than them.”

“And they accuse you of some of constantly disrupting classes with your shenanigans,” continues Greether, “such as swapping out potient ingredients before a class. Do you realize Taylor Morgusson is still in the hospital, awaiting yet another surgery because of that?”

Xabar raised an eyebrow. “I was just trying to help her be more marketable in the dating department. Her chest was as flat as a boy’s, and I got her some hooters to be proud of.”

“You also caused her to erupt with boils and grow a foot out of the middle of her forehead!” said the old man, fighting to keep his temper under control.

“Yeah, I’ve got to admit, I didn’t see that coming. I still don’t know where I went wrong.... Maybe too much Eye of Newt and not enough Tail of Guinea Pig?”

“Where you went wrong was your casual disregard for rules, such as getting the Rune Interpretation Class drunk during their spring dinner by spiking the punch.”

“Oh, like that’s the first time there’s been on campus!” replied Xabar, sarcastically.

“They were 10 and 11 years old!” sputtered Greether. “Do you know what it’s like having to explain to parents that their 10 and 11 year olds are all in the infirmary because of massive hangovers?”

He scans over the letter again. “And there are charges of wanton destruction of property: setting fire to Professor Albuson’s robe...”

“In my defense, I was trying to see if her hairy legs would be a good substitute for the old-growth forest environment of the Denazian Fire Sparklet. I didn’t factor in the extra heat they produce when they get startled.”

“...and that you sent Professor Sövesison’s desk through the stained glass window in the conservatory....”

“That was only because Hager dared me....”

“...and that you killed one of the school’s horses...”

“How was I to know that it couldn’t hold its liquor?” protested Xabar.

Master Greether held up a hand to silence him. “I’ve lost count of how many times you have been written up for showing up to class drunk or hungover, or not even bothering to attend class at all because you have found yet another way to get past the locks on the door to the wine cellar.”

“For which, I should be commended,” replies Xabar. “I don’t know how much you pay the security consultants, but you could save all of that by just letting me show in the weaknesses around here.”

“And then there are the other — indiscretions,” says Greether, looking uncomfortable.

Xabar sighs and rolls his eyes again.

“This is no trivial matter, Xabar. You have had the best of magical training in the Kingdom, and you persist in using that training to take advantage of others — particularly the opposite sex.”

Xabar lets his head fall back, eyes closed, as if he has heard all of this too many times to possibly retain his interest. Greether consults the letter again before continuing. “Using hypnotism to seduce women.... You were suspended for that when you were 13, 14, 15, 16, and again last year when you were 20! What does that say about you?”

“That I got really good by the time I was 17 in covering my tracks? And that time when I was 16 was a bum rap. She was really into me, and just used the hypnotism excuse so her dad wouldn’t know she’d been sneaking out to be with me for months.”

Greether continues. “And using your Potions class time to make a Nymphomania Potion, which you then poured into the well of Widow Chambers’ house, affecting her and your four daughters.”

Xabar’s eyes turn dreamy, and he smiles. “Oh, that was an enchanting week, but I learned my lesson!”

“I should certainly hope so!” replied the wizard, disapprovingly.

“Absolutely. Next time I’m going to wear a back brace. I could barely walk for weeks afterward.”

Greether scowls. “How many times has the school had to make settlements to avoid the scandals caused by your indiscretions? I can count four off the top of my head where we have had to pay an outraged father or husband because an unexpected pregnancy of a daughter or wife seems to be traced in some way to you.”

He looks sternly at Xabar, expecting some sign of penitence. Instead, Xabar yawns again and says, “Actually, I think it’s six. And some of those really should have been paying the school, rather than taking its money. The only way Dr. Fükleheimer’s wife was going to give him a child was if someone else did the deed. Honestly, have you seen that slob? He’s so fat that I doubt that his dick has emerged from those rolls since he was in grade school. I didn’t have to use any magic on Mrs. Fükleheimer; she practically me!”

“Dr. Fükleheimer is the King’s Minister of Magical Relations!” said Greether, his voice rising in anger. “Your single act of indiscretion could have resulted in this school being shut down!”

The old wizard sits, wearily and rubs his eyes. “Xabar, I bear a measure of responsibility for his. As chancellor, I should have done something sooner, but as your father, I always held back, hoping you would come to your senses.”

“Exactly,” replied Xabar. “I’ve been telling everyone it’s not my fault.”

“But enough is enough,” says Greether. “Upon the recommendation of the faculty, I have decided that you will are expelled from this institution.”

For the first time, Xabar sits up and looks attentive. “What do you mean? I have to graduate. I just have one semester to go!”

“But you will not. Effective immediately, your status as Wizard Apprentice is revoked and you are expelled from Häzadertroth’s. You may no longer practice magic or any kind.”

“Not practice magic? Expelled? Father, you can’t be serious! What on earth am I to do if I’m not allowed to practice magic?”

“You will have to find a way to make an honest living, just as most young men your age do. Find a job, learn a skill, work hard, and be a productive member of society.”

“But no magic? That’s all I know!” protests Xabar.

“I’m afraid that’s the problem. Knowing only magic but having no knowledge of responsibility is a dangerous thing — for you and those around you. I’m afraid you have proven yourself to be untrustworthy, concerned only about yourself.”

“But where will I go? Häzadertroth’s is my home!”

“Not any more,” replies his father, sadly. Retrieving a small bag from his desk, he hands it to Xabar. “Here is some money to help you get started, but the faculty is very clear that you must leave the school by the end of the day. Go get your things. I have written your mother, and she is willing to let you stay with her until you get on your feet."

"Mother? You can't be serious!" he replied indignantly. Xabar's mother left them shortly after Xabar was born, after having an affair with a professor at the Academy. The man was dismissed, and moved to another city, where he married Xabar's mother. They now have a daughter who is 18.

"Why would I want to stay with her?" Xabar asked. "You might as well send me to jail."

"Do not stay with her if you don't want to, but you cannot stay here. You are no longer a wizard, but you are a man; go and prove yourself a capable one.”

Xabar stands and stares blankly at his father for a moment before turning and walking toward the door.

“And Xabar,” says his father. “I know rules have never meant anything to you before, but I am not going to be able to protect you any more. Do not disregard the prohibition against practicing magic. The unsanctioned practice of magic is punishable by .”

Xabar stops and looks at his father, considering a response. Thinking otherwise, he glowers and departs, slamming the door behind him.

He looks at the clock as he leaves. Three hours remain before he has to vacate the school.