Mightier Than the Something

It was her first day at Marvelous Madam Miriam's School for Magical Children, and Tory Cook was already making a decision that would change her whole life. Or at least the parts after the first nine years. She hugged her egg close and marched over to Mme Miriam. “This one,” she said.

The woman looked up from her list. “My, that's an interesting choice. Are you sure about this Miss, ah-” When she squinted, her winged spectacles fluttered off her nose so she could look under them. “-Miss Cook?” Most of the child's face was obscured by the egg. Of course, it was still small for a dragon's egg, but she was surprised Tory could lift it.

The girl wobbled. “Yeah, I'm sure. It's talking to me!”

Sure enough, scritch-scratch noises came from the inside. They got louder whenever Tory raised her voice, making Miriam smile. “Alright.” Her spectacles alighted, and she made another mark. “Tory Cook –  drafting familiar. Now hurry and join the others.”

Tory didn't need to be told twice. She adjusted her grip and scampered toward her peers, who were sitting cross-legged in a circle that rimmed the schoolyard.

The air was abuzz with giggles from the students who had managed to coax hatchlings from their eggs. No shouting- Madam Miriam had been very clear about how damaging it could be to startle a new familiar- but everyone was excited. Over by the endless slide, Suzette was whistling to a sparkling patch of air. The shimmers gathered into a hummingbird shape and whistled back. Gary was first to break formation when he jumped up and tore after what looked like a second shadow. And then there was Brian.

Brian was sitting beside mirror-smooth shell bits, stroking a silvery reptile that came up to his knee. Its scales rippled with each touch. The keening brought a grin to his face, which he dropped when he caught Tory staring. “What do you want, Cook?”

“N-nothing.” She went to sit by Amelia instead. Her friend was too distracted to say “hi,” so Tory plopped in front of the chuckleberry bush and waited in silence.

Tory's egg was average in shape and size- bigger than some, tiny compared to others. The shell was layered over itself in various shades of beige, symbols and letters dotting its surface. She patted the front. “I bet you're gonna be the best familiar ever. You should come out if you're ready. I know I am!”

Skritch skritch. Scrabble scratch.

“Oh. Is it hard work?”

Skeraaaatch.

“Well, I could tell you a story while we wait. Um, let's see. Once upon a time, there was a giant familiar who was way better than Brian's...”

Squeaks came from inside the egg. While she talked, the sounds grew more and more excited until, finally, the shell ripped down the middle. Tory went quiet, holding her breath.

Flakes of shell drifted to the ground. Claws appeared like pinpricks and pried at the opening, giving way to a face of points and folds. It let out a “skree!” and tipped over.

Tory lunged to catch it. Scales crinkled against her skin, and she gasped. “You're made of paper?”

It had no eyes, but it tilted its head toward her all the same. “Skrrr?” Lines flourished from its snout, trailing down its body in what she was pretty sure were different languages. Several ended in question marks. They faded as quickly. Then, before Tory could add anything, her hatchling jerked, sniffled, and sneezed a jet of black onto her jumper.

“Ack!” Tory held it at arm's length, looking between her ruined outfit and it. Then she laughed. “Paper and ink. You are so cool!” She hugged her dragon close.

Its midsection crumpled beneath her hold, but the dragon didn't seem to mind. It butted her cheek with its head and trilled. Its dog-eared horns folded harmlessly against her skin.

“Remember, class.” Madam Miriam stepped into the circle's center and clapped her hands. “A name is the most important thing you will ever give your familiar. Choose carefully. It's alright if you take a few days to-”

“Moonbeam!”

“Hades!”

“Lady Larabelle!”

The teacher sighed. “-or we could all shout the first thing that pops into our heads.” She glanced over to Tory. “What about you, Miss Cook? It's been a while since we've had a drafting dragon here. Do you need help with ideas?”

Tory shook her head. “His name is Arthur.”

“Really? That's fairly sensible. How did you choose that?”

“From the story.” The girl beamed. “You know, Arthur Pen Dragon!” At its full name, her hatchling surged and tackled her to the ground. It trilled again, wriggling in excitement and peppering her face with dry, flickery kisses.

Brian watched them thoughtfully. Standing, he swept an arm at his own dragon. “In that case, this is Lancelot.”

The metallic familiar shook itself, scales bristling out into miniature daggers.      

Arthur stiffened at that. He hopped off Tory and rounded on Brian and Lancelot. All down his body, scrawled exclamations accompanied his protests. Lancelot lifted its nose and spat a push pin at him. He squawked and retreated behind Tory, tail folded between all four legs. Their respective masters glared at each other.

“Manners, Mister Turner. A familiar is only as good as her keeper.” Madam Miriam eyed him. “You do know you've got a female, yes?”

He folded his arms. “So what?”

“Never mind.” Miriam pushed her glasses into place. “Just be careful. You know what they say about the pen and the sword.”

Tory stuck her tongue out at him. He stuck his out right back. In spite of herself, their teacher chuckled. “Alright, children, settle down. It's time for your first lesson with your partners. Remember, no acid or fire until after we go over safety protocol for...”  

As the lesson droned on, Tory scratched Arthur's chin. She looked up and locked eyes with Brian from across the circle.

They smirked at each other, already imagining the epic battles to come.