"So Mr. Norman, what brings you here to our school?" Administrator O'Connell asked. He was rather curious on why this unexpected guest was here.

"I was told to go to school here." Norman said truthfully.

"Did your parents register you here?"

"Yes. I believe they did."

"And what is your surname, again?"

"Wolf, sir." Norman was prepared for these things, even though he didn't feel that way. He felt like he was sitting on a rather hot chair with how nervous he was. Norman's mother tested and quizzed him on what the school people might say. Norman's father taught what Norman's fellow students might be like. The truth was that Norman had no idea what was going to happen and he'd need to figure it out on his own based off of what his parents had told him. 

"Wolf should be easy to find." Administrator O'Connell assured. Looking over to the open door out of his office and signaled to his assistant, Mary the wood elf, to look for Norman's files. "What are your qualifications?"

"... what are qualifications?" Norman wasn't the brightest in vocabulary. 

"Well to put it another way, what are your magic talents? Your powers?" O'Connell said trying to be patient. 

"Well animals that trust me can talk to me like they were speaking Common."

"And what makes you think that's magical or, at the very least, magical enough to get you permitted into our school?"

Norman was confused by this. He didn't expect such opposition when applying. He decided it was time to bring out Scarf anyway, despite O'Connell insisting Scarf stay in Norman's satchel.   

"That rodent will spread diseases all over the school!" O'Connell shouted. 

"First off, I'm not a rodent. Second off, I bathe more than you do!" Scarf retorted. Norman quickly translated Scarf's squeaks word for word.

"Preposterous!" O'Connell bathed rather regularly and took offense to what Normand had said. 

"That is what the ferret said, sir." Mary chimed in. She had found a letter from the Wolf family that was sent ahead of time and handed it to O'Connell. 

"Since when do you speak ferret?" Scarf asked. 

"I had one at one point." Mary responded. "Mr. O'Connell here didn't get along with Jill too well." 

O'Connell scoffed. He was reading the letter that Mrs. Wolf had wrote. Mrs. Wolf had written her words neatly and was hoping that calligraphy and Norman's animal speech would be enough to get Norman into Cyrus's School of Magic. However-

"Was there a payment enclosed?" O'Connell asked. 

That was one of Norman's trigger words, as he liked to call them. Once someone asked for payment, he would produce a bag of gold coins to whoever asked. He still had the pouch of money in his satchel and plopped it on the desk before Mary could say "no".

"Well then!" O'Connell wasn't expecting money. "Let's see what you have!" He opened the pouch. One... two.... three, four, five gold pieces. That was the admission price for entering into Cyrus's School of Magic.... last year. They raised the admission price by twenty percent for this coming school year. Knowing this with the additional fact that O'Connell learned the boy had travelled four days to get to this school from reading Mrs. Wolf's letter and that Norman was gifted in beast magic meant that he was one gold piece short. O'Connell felt sorry that he was the one that had to tell Norman this. 

"You see lad, you are short a gold." O'Connell started. 

There was a moment of silence, then Scarf burst into a fit of rage immediately upon hearing that. Scarf proclaimed highway robbery. Norman didn't stop Scarf. He was confused.

"Isn't admissions five gold? I have five gold!" Norman knew he did. He could count (thanks to the trustor's rigorous testing).   

Mary stepped forward. "I'm so sorry, Norman, but the headmaster increased administration fees by a gold in order to try and keep the school financially afloat."

"You mean money is a problem for this school?" Norman pondered. Even though he wasn't good with words, he could pick up on context clues. 

"They're swindling you, Norm! Now is the time to be mean!" Scarf advised.

Silence filled the office for a solid second. Norman looked between Mary and O'Connell. Mary was heartbroken. She empathized for the young lad trying to make something of himself through education. O'Connell did not like the situation, but thought it would be better if Scarf vacated his office before Scarf's squeaks gave O'Connell a migraine. 

"Listen, the deadline for submitting an application fee to this School is tomorrow. Maybe you could get a gold piece by then." O'Connell said. He was trying to get Norman's hopes up so he would leave sooner. 

Norman had no such hope. It took a year for his parents to get a single gold piece to save in case of an emergency. Norman's eyes were toward the ground. How was he supposed to achieve a year's work in one day?

Before Norman could look up, Scarf blurted out "Wait! Ma said something about grains!"

Norman knew what Scarf meant, and exclaimed "I want to apply for a grant!" 

Mr. O'Connell was stunned. "What?" He knew what Norman meant, but never dreamed that those words would come out of Norman's mouth.

"Well, it's the law that I have to attend school, right? If I can't afford the whole thing, I can apply for a grant. Is that right?" Norman asked, looking toward Mary. Norman liked her better anyway. 

"Oh that's right! I almost forgot!" Mary excitedly laughed. She felt a wave of relief for young Norman. "That is headmaster's duty, is it not?"

"Yes." O'Connell said through gritted teeth.

"I'll fetch him right away!" Mary spoke as she scurried out of the office.

Norman and O'Connell were now in the room alone. The room was like any other office. It had a rather simple window, a lavish oiled dark oak wood desk, and a matching set of chairs. One of the chairs was for O'Connell and one for his guest, who was a farm boy. A stinky, unbathed farm boy. Now O'Connell knew why he didn't like Norman. 

"What kind of name is Wolf, anyway? Where does it stem from?" O'Connell asked.

"It comes from the North.... that's all I really know about it." Norman didn't know he would be quizzed on his name. 

"It's a dirty name." O'Connell explained. "Dirt has no purpose other than to be walked on, don't you know?" O'Connell looked at Norman. Expecting a reaction.

"Then how does grass and trees take root?" Norman asked. He wasn't sure what O'Connell was getting at. 

O'Connell wasn't sure what to say. In truth, he had decided that Norman was a stupid country bumkin that had no place in this school. To O'Connell, Norman would stink up the place, track in dirt and not clean up after his fur rat. This was, of course, unfair to Norman, the thirteen year old. He usually wasn't this dirty, but he had no time to take a bath on his journey here. 

After a while, Headmaster DuPont marched in. DuPont was a slightly larger high elf. A little round with short brown hair and an almost permanent smile attached to his face. "Hello!" He happily exclaimed. New students were Dupont's favorite. "Where is Norman?"

Norman, scared by Dupont's sudden entrance, stood up. "Here, sir!" 

"Ah! Hello young lad! Where did you come from, and how was your journey?" DuPont ask Norman. 

"Well I travelled all the way from my farm that's north of Jersville." Normand confessed. He felt like he could tell DuPont everything with the smile that he had. 

"Well! That's a ways away! Long journey then!" DuPont was happy that he was getting a student from further out, but more happy to get the chance to teach Norman. "Tell me, what sort of magic do you want to learn?" 

"I'm thinking something in Emerald magic, but I could go for anything, honestly!"

"Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out in time. What sort of magic do you possess?" DuPont had a feeling he was going to really like Norman. He didn't know why yet though. 

"Animals that trust me can speak to me as if they were speaking common."

"A simple yet very practical magic!" DuPont said proudly. "So do you know what a grant is?" 

"It's.... money?" Norman almost asked. Ma never got this far with teaching Norman about grants. She simple said that "If you don't have enough money, apply for a grant." and that was it. 

"Well, a grant is almost like a loan of money. I would offer you a grant, but in return, you must do something for me."

"I don't like this." Scarf proclaimed. "He's going to ask for more money later."

"What would you need in return?" Norman asked.

"I would need you to do your schoolwork well. Obtain grades that are of a satisfactory level and also stay out of trouble. If you do this, then there will be no problem." DuPont said. He was confident that Norman would have no issue with trouble or grade. 

"What if I don't get good enough grades?" Norman pondered.

"I'm sure that won't be an issue. If it is.... well, we'll get there when we get there." DuPont smiled even harder. DuPont then looked over to the gold that was still on the desk. Five gold pieces. He was feeling generous at the moment and then proclaimed "Double the grant!"

O'Connell looked up in horror. "Sir?"

"Double the grant! Take four gold from marvelous Norman here and say that his tuition is paid." DuPont said proudly. 

"That means I get a gold back?" Norman wanted to be double sure about that bit. 

"Yes indeed! Make sure you take good care of yourself and your furry friend!" DuPont added.

"Yeah, well I can take care of myself!" Scarf scoffed. 

"The twenty-three year old ferret can take care of himself... for the most part." Normand said as a joke.

"I beg your pardon?" DuPont was confused.

"Well sometimes he needs help getting food and he's kind of needy..." Norman started.

"No not that part. How old is he?" DuPont had never heard of a ferret being that old. 

"Well according to Scarf, he's twenty-three years old." Norman was told not to tell anybody about this, but for some reason he felt like he could trust Headmaster DuPont. 

"Oh! Do you know how long ferrets usually live?" DuPont was curious if Norman knew. 

"Like 50 years old, right?" Norman thought he knew how old they lived.

"That's about 5 times too many years." The headmaster said.

Norman was confused. The only ferret that he had ever known was Scarf. The only information Norman had of ferrets came from Scarf. What hasn't Scarf been telling Norman?

"I'm sure it's alright, my dear boy!" DuPont assured. "Scarf probably met some powerful sorcerer and got his life expanded!"

That didn't assure Norman. It only brought up more questions.

"I'll tell you about it later, 'dear boy'." Scarf confessed. Scarf wouldn't admit to it, but he was very fond of Normand, and didn't want their friendship tarnished. 

That was enough for Norman. After all, Scarf was technically his elder and never steered him wrong before. Maybe he just didn't like to talk about his past, which made sense. The important thing was that Norman was now officially in school, and had a gold coin to spare. That was a major win for Norman.