Enjoy some cathartic violence towards the concept of academic snobbery!
Zara couldn’t help but feel some satisfaction at the jingle of coins in the heavy bag she laid on the Headmaster’s desk. Not that she let it show.
The Headmaster regarded the bag carefully with her beady blue eyes. “You understand, of course, that we don’t just accept any student who has the money. There are standards. Protocol to be observed.”
“The charter of your circle says that you’ll admit any student if they can meet the tuition cost and show magical aptitude,” Zara said. She’d read the charter. Best to be prepared.
“And your magical aptitude?” The Headmaster said with barely hidden disdain.
By habit, Zara took a slow breath in and out, and held out a hand. A small, carefully controlled flame flickered to life above her palm, a bright sweet thing.