《the Muggle-Born of Austramore》


 Chapter 1: A Letter of Wonders

    Soya Vareen had always thought of himself as exceptionally ordinary. He lived in a quiet suburban neighborhood in Sydney, tucked into a modest two-bedroom house with faded shutters and a garden of stubborn daisies that refused to bloom. His father, Malcolm, was an accountant whose evenings were spent grumbling over spreadsheets. His mother, Eliza, worked part-time at a library and devoted the rest of her time to tending the hydrangeas by their porch.


    For Soya, life was predictable, maybe even a little dull. He was small for his age, with dark brown hair that always seemed to fall in front of his hazel eyes and thick glasses that constantly slipped down his nose. Quiet and shy, he often preferred the company of books or sketching fantastical creatures in his notebook. His classmates teased him for being ¡°different,¡± though they could never quite explain how. Soya felt it too¡ªa peculiar sort of loneliness, as though he belonged somewhere he had yet to find.


    On this particular morning, the middle of July, winter¡¯s chill seeped through the windows. Soya sat at the kitchen table, nibbling on toast and flipping through a battered wildlife encyclopedia. His favorite page was dog-eared: a faded photograph of a Tasmanian Tiger, its sharp, knowing eyes staring back at him. He traced the outline with his finger and sighed.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be late for school if you dawdle, Soya,¡± his mother called from the sink, where she was scrubbing a coffee mug.


    ¡°Not today, Mum,¡± Soya replied. It was Saturday, and for once, there were no looming assignments or playground taunts to face. But still, an odd restlessness clung to him, as if something was about to change.


    At precisely 8:17 AM, the doorbell rang.


    Soya startled, nearly knocking over his glass of milk. They rarely had visitors this early. His mother paused, dish towel in hand, and glanced at him with a puzzled expression before walking to the door. Soya strained to listen, hearing only a brief exchange of muffled voices.


    When Eliza returned, she was holding an envelope¡ªa thick, yellowed thing sealed with a curious green wax emblem. She set it on the table in front of him with a wary smile.


    ¡°This is for you,¡± she said, her tone as uncertain as her expression.


    Soya frowned. ¡°For me?¡± He never got mail. His birthday cards from relatives usually arrived through his parents, and the postman certainly didn¡¯t deliver anything so unusual. He stared at the envelope, his name written in elegant green ink:


    Mr. Soya Vareen


    Second Bedroom, 14 Lavender Street


    Sydney, NSW


    He hesitated, then carefully broke the wax seal. The letter inside was written on parchment that felt almost alive in his hands, shimmering faintly in the light. Heart pounding, he began to read aloud:


    Dear Mr. Vareen,


    We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Austramore School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Term begins on the 1st of August. Please find enclosed a list of required books and equipment. Your orientation will take place at Fernwick, the magical village near the school, on the 28th of July. Further instructions are detailed below.


    Yours sincerely,


    Boromus Spellchecker


    Headmaster


    Soya¡¯s voice wavered. He glanced at his mother, whose mouth was slightly open, her hands frozen in mid-wipe. ¡°It¡­ it says I¡¯ve been accepted to a school for wizards,¡± he said.


    At first, they thought it had to be a prank. But enclosed with the letter was a detailed guide for ¡°first-time wizarding families.¡± It explained that Soya was what the magical world called a Muggle-born¡ªa wizard born to non-magical parents. His odd experiences as a child¡ªthe time a shattered lamp had mended itself when he panicked, or when a drawing of a bird in his sketchbook had flapped its wings before settling back to ink¡ªsuddenly made sense.


    ¡°I¡ªI don¡¯t understand,¡± Eliza murmured, rereading the parchment for the third time. ¡°Magic? Wizards? This isn¡¯t real, is it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s real,¡± Malcolm said quietly, holding the parchment up to the light. ¡°Look at this paper¡ªit¡¯s like nothing I¡¯ve ever seen. And this seal¡­ it¡¯s moving.¡±


    Soya¡¯s world tilted on its axis. For the first time, the strange feeling that he didn¡¯t belong started to fade. Maybe he did belong¡ªjust somewhere he never knew existed.


    The next day, the Vareens followed the letter¡¯s instructions to a narrow, cobbled street called Bennelong Lane, hidden behind the Sydney Opera House. At first glance, it seemed like any other alley, but as they stepped through, the air shimmered, and the mundane world seemed to fall away.


    Shops lined the lane, their windows filled with enchanted objects: cauldrons that stirred themselves, quills writing in midair, and brooms hovering just above the floor. A group of witches haggled over glowing gemstones, and a man with a long beard walked past carrying a cage of squawking, two-headed parrots.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    They found Eucalypt Enchantments, a cozy bookshop with shelves that reached the ceiling. A smiling wizard greeted them, explaining the basics of the magical world and helping them prepare for Soya¡¯s journey. He handed Soya a temporary wand for practice and gave them a map to Fernwick, a hidden town where they could buy his supplies.


    A week later, the Vareens arrived in Fernwick via Portkey¡ªa rusty old tin can that whisked them through a whirlwind of color and sound. When they landed, they were in the middle of a bustling village filled with laughter, magic, and charm. Witches and wizards bartered in markets, children zoomed past on toy broomsticks, and colorful banners fluttered from enchanted lamp posts.


    Soya¡¯s list of school supplies was long but exciting. They visited:


    Feylight Robes, where Soya was measured for his uniform by enchanted measuring tapes.


    Wandwright¡¯s Atelier, where he received his first wand: sakura wood, 12 inches, kitsune tail hair core.


    The Cauldron Corner, where they picked out a sturdy bronze cauldron and a set of potion-making tools.


    His parents marveled at everything they saw, though Eliza occasionally muttered about the sheer oddness of it all. By the time they left, Soya was equipped with robes, books, a wand, and a shiny black trunk embossed with the Austramore crest.


    The morning of August 1st arrived too soon. At Sydney¡¯s Central Station, the Vareens stood awkwardly near Platform 8, waiting for the enchanted barrier to open.


    ¡°This is¡­ goodbye for now,¡± Eliza said, her voice trembling as she adjusted Soya¡¯s scarf. ¡°Be safe, Soya. Write to us as soon as you can.¡±


    ¡°I will, Mum,¡± Soya promised, trying to sound braver than he felt.


    Malcolm gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re going to be great, son. Make us proud.¡±


    When the barrier shimmered open, revealing the sleek bronze train that would take him to Austramore, Soya took a deep breath, waved to his parents, and stepped through.


    The journey to the Blue Mountains was mesmerizing. The train wove through valleys and over cliffs, past sparkling rivers and forests that seemed alive with magic. Soya sat by the window, staring in awe as the scenery unfolded.


    When they arrived, the school stood in the distance, its sandstone towers glowing faintly under the evening sky. Professor Boromus Spellchecker, the headmaster, stood at the gates¡ªa tall, wiry man with a wild mane of silver hair and robes patched with colorful stitching. He held a staff that crackled faintly with energy.


    ¡°Welcome, new students!¡± Boromus announced, his voice a booming mix of enthusiasm and eccentricity. ¡°Here, you¡¯ll learn to conjure wonders, tame chaos, and maybe even understand why your socks always disappear in the wash! Now, onward!¡±


    Soya couldn¡¯t help but smile at the man¡¯s oddness, feeling a strange sense of comfort. The students were led into the Great Hall, a cavernous space filled with floating lanterns and enchanted murals depicting Australian landscapes.


    ¡°Before we begin the Sorting Ceremony,¡± Boromus said, twirling his staff dramatically, ¡°let me welcome you to Austramore, where the ordinary ends and the extraordinary begins!¡±


    Soya¡¯s heart pounded as he joined the line of first-years waiting to be sorted. For the first time in his life, he felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.


    The Great Hall of Austramore was alive with magic. Lanterns floated above long tables, casting a warm glow over the enchanted murals on the sandstone walls. The ceiling, enchanted to mirror the sky outside, displayed a twilight sky with a scattering of stars. Soya Vareen stood among a sea of first-year students, his heart pounding in his chest. He glanced nervously at the line ahead of him as names were called, one by one, for the Sorting Ceremony.


    At the front of the hall, an ancient pedestal held a shimmering silver staff¡ªthe Arboris Scepter. Headmaster Boromus Spellchecker, a wiry man with wild silver hair and patched robes, stood beside it. His kind yet eccentric demeanor was as captivating as the crackling staff he leaned on.


    ¡°Students, the moment you¡¯ve all been waiting for!¡± Boromus announced, his voice a mix of enthusiasm and mystery. ¡°This scepter is no ordinary stick! It knows your hearts, your strengths, your quirks¡­ and even your favorite snacks, though it promises not to tell! Now, let¡¯s see where you belong.¡±


    The students murmured nervously. Soya tightened his grip on the strap of his bag, his eyes darting toward the Scepter.


    ¡°Sevrin Verelle!¡±


    A tall boy with piercing green eyes and shoulder-length black hair stepped forward. His scowl deepened as the staff lit up with a brilliant crimson glow.


    ¡°Yarramundi!¡± Boromus declared with a dramatic wave of his arm.


    The Yarramundi table erupted in cheers as Sevrin strode toward them, his expression indifferent but his steps deliberate.


    ¡°Manaya Moon!¡±


    A short girl with long, messy brown hair and hazel eyes stepped up next. Three scars stretched from her cheek to her neck, but her gentle demeanor softened her appearance. The staff glowed a serene blue.


    ¡°Ningaloo!¡±


    Manaya smiled shyly and hurried to join her new house, greeted warmly by her cheering peers.


    ¡°Sage Blackthorn!¡±


    A pale boy with calculating dark eyes and short black hair approached the pedestal. His expression was unreadable as the staff flickered crimson.


    ¡°Yarramundi!¡±


    The same table cheered again, their members already growing confident with their new additions.


    ¡°Salem Blackthorn!¡±


    Sage¡¯s twin brother stepped forward, his pale complexion and nervous gaze contrasting sharply with his sibling¡¯s calm demeanor. The staff glowed green.


    ¡°Bunjil!¡±


    Salem let out a visible sigh of relief as he joined the Bunjil table, receiving gentle applause.


    ¡°Soya Vareen!¡±


    The sound of his name made Soya¡¯s heart leap into his throat. He shuffled forward, feeling every eye in the room on him. His hands trembled as he stood before the Scepter. It seemed to hum with energy, responding to his presence.


    Boromus leaned closer, whispering theatrically, ¡°Ah, a curious one, this Scepter says. Shy but creative, quiet yet determined. What a delightful puzzle!¡±


    The staff pulsed with golden light before shifting to a vibrant orange.


    ¡°Thylacea!¡± Boromus announced, clapping his hands. ¡°Welcome to the house of resourcefulness and ingenuity!¡±


    Relief and excitement washed over Soya as he joined the Thylacea table, greeted by enthusiastic cheers. Among them, a tall boy with mousey brown hair and silver eyes gave him a welcoming nod.


    ¡°Saunak Carswell!¡±


    A boy with short white hair and blue eyes stepped forward confidently. His warm smile never wavered as the staff glowed green.


    ¡°Bunjil!¡±


    Saunak grinned and made his way to the table, clapping Salem on the back as he sat down.


    ¡°Davonte Evander!¡±


    A tall, athletic boy with flawless skin and silver eyes stepped forward next. The staff barely hesitated before glowing orange.


    ¡°Thylacea!¡±


    The Thylacea table welcomed him with cheers, and Soya found himself sitting beside him. Davonte smiled down at him. ¡°Looks like we¡¯ll be housemates.¡±


    As the final student was sorted, Boromus stepped forward again, raising his crackling staff dramatically. ¡°And thus, the Sorting is complete! Remember, my dear students, that your house is not just where you¡¯ll sleep and eat¡ªit¡¯s your family, your team, your partners in adventure and mischief!¡±


    The hall erupted in applause as the students began to settle in with their new housemates. Soya glanced around the Thylacea table, feeling a warmth he hadn¡¯t expected. For the first time in his life, he felt like he was home.

 Chapter 2: Settling in

    The Great Hall of Austramore School of Witchcraft and Wizardry buzzed with the energy of new beginnings. The students, both new and returning, sat at long stone tables arranged by house. The Thylacea table was nearest to the wall, draped in vibrant orange and black. At the center of the room, the Arboris Scepter stood gleaming atop a carved sandstone pedestal, its intricate design a testament to the school''s history.


    Headmaster Boromus Spellchecker, his patched robes swirling around his wiry frame, raised his crackling staff high into the air. The room fell silent, save for the occasional crackle of the enchanted lanterns overhead.


    ¡°Ah, my dear students, both new and returning!¡± Boromus began, his voice a curious mix of booming authority and whimsical charm. ¡°Tonight marks the start of another grand year at Austramore, where your minds will be sharpened, your spells honed, and¡ªif you¡¯re lucky¡ªyour eyebrows kept intact.¡± A ripple of laughter swept through the hall. Boromus grinned, his eyes twinkling like he was sharing a secret joke.


    "A word on safety,¡± he continued, raising a finger. ¡°Avoid the East Wing on Tuesdays¡ªexperiments tend to escape. Also, the lake is home to a rather grumpy bunyip who dislikes loud noises, so kindly refrain from cannonballs. And, most importantly, respect your professors. They are here not just to teach, but to ensure you don¡¯t accidentally transfigure yourselves into toads¡­ permanently.¡±


    He paced slowly in front of the Arboris Scepter, his bright eyes scanning the crowd. ¡°This school was built on the principles of balance, adaptability, and respect¡ªfor each other, for the land, and for the magic that binds us all. Whether you are a Yarramundi leader, a Ningaloo protector, a Thylacea strategist, or a Bunjil thinker, your house is not just your home¡ªit is your family.¡±


    The hall was so quiet that Soya Vareen could hear his own heartbeat. He sat at the Thylacea table, dwarfed by older students and trying to avoid drawing attention to himself.


    "Now," the headmaster continued, pacing slowly in front of the Scepter, "you have been sorted into your houses¡ªThylacea, Ningaloo, Bunjil, and Yarramundi. Each house is a reflection of your strengths, your potential, and yes, your quirks. Embrace them, for they are your family within these walls."


    He stopped, turning to look at the students with a mischievous glint in his eye. "But let us not forget that learning is hard work! And hard work requires energy, and energy requires food! So, without further ado..."


    With a dramatic tap of his staff against the pedestal, the Arboris Scepter flared brightly, and the tables sprang to life. Platters of roasted kangaroo, steaming bowls of bush tomato stew, crusty loaves of damper bread, and fresh lamingtons appeared in abundance. Jugs of sparkling water, pineapple juice, and a luminescent green drink sat in the center of each table.


    Soya¡¯s eyes widened as he stared at the feast before him. He reached tentatively for a bread roll, feeling overwhelmed.


    ¡°Go on,¡± said Davonte Evander, the tall boy from Thylacea who had been sorted just after him. ¡°It¡¯s all real. The chicken¡¯s amazing, by the way.¡±


    Soya chuckled nervously and placed the bread on his plate. Around him, the Thylacea table was alive with chatter.


    ¡°Unbelievable,¡± one student said, poking at a slice of roast lamb. ¡°My mum can¡¯t even cook this well, and she¡¯s got a magical oven!¡±


    A red-haired girl near the end of the table added, ¡°I bet the pudding¡¯s enchanted to taste like whatever you¡¯re craving.¡±


    A girl across the table, her curly auburn hair glowing in the lantern light, grinned. ¡°What¡¯s this green drink?¡± she asked, lifting a jug of the mysterious liquid.


    ¡°Glowleaf cordial,¡± an older boy replied. ¡°Tastes like mint and citrus. Careful, though¡ªit glows for hours after you drink it.¡±


    The girl giggled and poured herself a glass. Soya watched the easy interactions around him, feeling slightly out of place. But as he bit into the tender fish, he couldn¡¯t help but feel a flicker of excitement.


    ¡°You¡¯re quiet,¡± Davonte remarked, breaking Soya¡¯s train of thought. ¡°What¡¯s your story?¡±


    Soya hesitated, unsure how much to share. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ new to all of this,¡± he said finally. ¡°My parents aren¡¯t wizards. I didn¡¯t even know magic was real until a few weeks ago.¡±


    Davonte raised his eyebrows. ¡°Muggle-born, huh? Well, don¡¯t worry. Thylacea¡¯s good at making people feel at home. You¡¯ll fit right in.¡±


    Soya managed a small smile. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    After the feast, Boromus Spellchecker stood once more, tapping his staff lightly to regain the room¡¯s attention. ¡°Now that your bellies are full, it¡¯s time to head to your dormitories. Prefects, the floor is yours!¡±


    At the Thylacea table, a tall boy with sandy hair and a confident stride stood. ¡°First-years, follow me!¡± he called, gesturing for the newcomers to gather. ¡°I¡¯m Jasper, your prefect. Stick close¡ªthis castle¡¯s got a habit of shifting around if you¡¯re not paying attention.¡±


    The first-years shuffled together, and Soya found himself in the middle of the group as they filed out of the hall. The corridors of Austramore were unlike anything he had ever seen. The sandstone walls seemed to pulse faintly with magic, and the floor occasionally shimmered as if made of liquid light.


    ¡°Don¡¯t wander,¡± Jasper said over his shoulder. ¡°The hallways like to test new students. Stick with the group, and you¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    The group passed several older students chatting by a staircase and a portrait of a grumpy-looking Tasmanian Devil that muttered complaints as they walked by. Soya glanced nervously at the shifting shadows, half expecting something to jump out.


    Eventually, Jasper stopped in front of a tall wooden door carved with an intricate image of a Tasmanian Tiger surrounded by eucalyptus leaves.


    ¡°This is us,¡± Jasper said, tapping the door with his wand. ¡°Courage through adaptability.¡±


    The door creaked open, revealing a cozy circular room with warm orange and black accents. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and a crackling fire burned in a stone hearth. Plush chairs and beanbags were scattered around, and the ceiling shimmered faintly like a clear night sky.


    As the first-years entered the common room, Jasper clapped his hands. ¡°All right, grab a seat and make yourselves comfortable. Before we head to the dormitories, let¡¯s do a quick introduction. Name, where you¡¯re from, and something you¡¯re looking forward to this year.¡±


    The group settled into the chairs, some looking more at ease than others. A girl with a bright smile went first. ¡°I¡¯m Eliza Gorman. From Brisbane. I¡¯m excited to learn about magical creatures.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Davonte Evander,¡± Davonte said. ¡°Mum and Dad work for the Ministry of Magic. I¡¯ve always been interested in magical creatures, so I¡¯m hoping to study them here.¡±


    One by one, the students introduced themselves. When it was Soya¡¯s turn, he swallowed nervously. ¡°I¡¯m Soya Vareen. I¡¯m from Sydney. And, uh¡­ I guess I¡¯m looking forward to learning more about magic.¡±


    Jasper gave him an encouraging nod. ¡°Good answer. You¡¯ll do great here, Soya.¡±


    The introductions continued until everyone had spoken. The atmosphere grew warmer as the students chatted, sharing their excitement and nerves. Soya found himself laughing at a story about a kangaroo stealing someone¡¯s lunch, feeling a little less like an outsider.


    When the introductions wrapped up, Jasper led the boys up a spiral staircase to their dormitory. The room was spacious, with four-poster beds draped in orange and black curtains. Each bed had a trunk at the foot and a small shelf for personal items.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°This is you,¡± Jasper said, pointing to a bed near the window with a calico kitten curled up asleep on the pillow. Soya set his bag down, feeling a rush of relief. The mattress was soft, and the view outside showed the twinkling lights of Fernwick in the distance.


    ¡°Not bad, huh?¡± Davonte said, plopping onto the bed across from him. ¡°Bet you didn¡¯t have this in Sydney.¡±


    Soya laughed softly. ¡°Not even close.¡±


    As the boys settled in, the room filled with the sounds of quiet conversation and the rustle of unpacking. For the first time since receiving his letter, Soya felt a sense of calm. He lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling, and let the soft hum of magic lull him to sleep.


    The sunlight streaming through the enchanted windows of the Thylacea dormitory seemed brighter than usual, the morning carrying an air of promise and curiosity. Soya Vareen woke slowly, the unfamiliar warmth of the room and the soft hum of magic reminding him that he wasn¡¯t home anymore. Around him, the other boys stirred¡ªDavonte Evander was already stretching, his silver eyes bright with anticipation.


    ¡°Morning, Soya,¡± Davonte said, swinging his legs off the side of his bed. ¡°Ready to meet the professors?¡±


    Soya pushed himself upright, adjusting his glasses. ¡°I think so. Do you know much about them?¡±


    Davonte grinned. ¡°Not really, but I hear they¡¯re impressive. One of them is half-ghost, apparently.¡±


    Soya¡¯s eyebrows shot up. ¡°Half-ghost?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, teaches History of Magic, I think. You¡¯ll see.¡± Davonte stood, pulling on his uniform robes. ¡°Better get moving. Jasper¡¯s probably waiting to drag us off somewhere.¡±


    By the time the Thylacea first-years gathered in the Great Hall, the tables were laden with breakfast: platters of scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, slices of fresh damper bread, and bowls of tropical fruits. Soya filled his plate carefully, still marveling at the sheer abundance of food. Around him, his housemates were chatting about the day ahead.


    ¡°What do you reckon we¡¯ll learn first?¡± asked Eliza Gorman, a bubbly girl with auburn curls. ¡°I hope it¡¯s something flashy, like spell casting.¡±


    Davonte leaned closer to Soya. ¡°Bet it¡¯s something dull like history. They always start with history.¡±


    Jasper, the Thylacea prefect, clapped his hands, silencing the chatter. ¡°All right, first-years! Finish up and gather in the entrance hall. Today¡¯s all about exploring the school, meeting your professors, and getting a taste of what life at Austramore is like. Keep your eyes open¡ªyou don¡¯t want to miss anything.¡±


    The first stop on their tour was the Transfiguration classroom. The room was filled with sunlight, the walls lined with shelves holding intricate sculptures and small animal figurines. At the center of the room stood a tall, sharp-featured woman with piercing eyes. Her presence was commanding, and the students fell silent as she regarded them.


    ¡°I am Professor Wickham,¡± she said, her voice crisp and precise. ¡°Transfiguration is the art of change. To master it, you must understand not only what an object is but what it can become.¡±


    She held up a small wooden bird and tapped it lightly with her wand. In an instant, the bird sprang to life, its wings fluttering as it soared across the room. The first-years gasped as the bird landed on a desk and transformed back into wood.


    ¡°This is what you will learn,¡± she continued. ¡°But do not mistake this for simple magic. Transfiguration requires discipline and focus. Without those, you will fail.¡±


    Soya exchanged a glance with Davonte, who looked equally intrigued and intimidated. As they left the room, whispers of excitement rippled through the group.


    Their next stop was the Charms classroom, a lively space filled with colorful banners and floating candles. A cheerful man with a wide smile greeted them at the door. He had an energetic presence that immediately put the students at ease.


    ¡°Welcome, first-years!¡± he said, clapping his hands together. ¡°I¡¯m Professor Coorong, and this is Charms. If you¡¯ve ever wondered how magic can make life more interesting, this is the class for you.¡±


    He raised his wand and waved it toward the ceiling. A moment later, dozens of glowing orbs appeared, floating gently down to the students. Soya reached out, touching one, and felt a warm sensation spread through his fingers.


    ¡°These are called Orb Luminas,¡± Coorong explained. ¡°A simple charm, but effective. By the end of the term, you¡¯ll be able to cast this spell and many more. Charms are the foundation of magical practicality.¡±


    The students left the classroom buzzing with enthusiasm. Soya felt a flicker of confidence¡ªmaybe magic wouldn¡¯t be as overwhelming as he¡¯d feared.


    The Defense classroom was entirely different. Large and shadowy, the room was dominated by moving targets shaped like small shadowy creatures. A tall woman with an athletic build and a faint scar across her cheek stood near the front, her arms crossed.


    ¡°I¡¯m Professor Marilla,¡± she said, her voice firm but not unkind. ¡°Defense Against the Dark Arts is about preparation. You¡¯ll face challenges in life¡ªsome magical, some not¡ªbut this class will teach you to handle them with skill and courage.¡±


    She raised her wand and aimed it at one of the shadowy targets. ¡°Expulsum!¡± she called, and a burst of light shot from her wand, shattering the target into harmless wisps.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± she added, lowering her wand. ¡°We won¡¯t start with anything this advanced. You¡¯ll begin with minor jinxes and counterspells.¡±


    Soya felt a chill of both fear and excitement as they filed out of the room. Davonte nudged him. ¡°I think I like her. She means business.¡±


    The Herbology greenhouses were warm and humid, filled with the scents of earth and growing things. Professor Greenbark greeted them with a bright smile, her apron streaked with dirt and her hair tied back with a vine.


    ¡°Welcome, first-years! I¡¯m Professor Greenbark, and you¡¯re about to learn how magical plants can help¡ªor hinder¡ªyour magical journey.¡±


    She gestured to a nearby table where glowing vines pulsed faintly with light. ¡°This is a Glowvine. Its leaves can be used in potions, but mishandle it, and you might end up glowing for days.¡±


    The students laughed nervously as Greenbark demonstrated how to handle the plant carefully. Soya leaned closer, fascinated by the vine¡¯s gentle luminescence.


    ¡°Remember,¡± she said, her voice gentle but firm, ¡°plants are alive. Treat them with respect, and they¡¯ll reward you.¡±


    Jasper lead them out of the greenhouse and down a stone spiral staircase to the lower floors of the castle.


    The Potions classroom was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of herbs and bubbling concoctions. A pale man with shoulder-length black hair and an intense gaze stood behind a large cauldron, his hands folded neatly in front of him.


    ¡°I am Professor Blackthorn,¡± he said, his voice low and deliberate. ¡°Potions is not for the impatient or the careless. Every ingredient, every movement, every moment matters.¡±


    He gestured to the cauldron, which was filled with a shimmering green liquid. ¡°This is a simple potion for calming nerves. One misstep, and it becomes a toxin.¡±


    The students watched as he stirred the potion with precision, his movements almost hypnotic. Soya felt a mix of awe and trepidation¡ªPotions seemed as fascinating as it was dangerous.


    Further down the corridor they stopped outside another room, the hum and pressure building in Soya''s ears before Jasper swung the door open.


    The Rune classroom was lined with stone tablets covered in glowing symbols. Professor Wirruna, a quiet woman with intricate tattoos across her arms, stood at the front, her expression calm and focused.


    ¡°Runes are the foundation of ancient magic,¡± she said, tracing a glowing symbol in the air with her wand. ¡°Each one carries a meaning, a power. Together, they tell a story.¡±


    She handed out small tablets to each student, each engraved with a different rune. ¡°Your task is to study this rune and tell me what you feel. Runes are not just symbols¡ªthey are alive.¡±


    Soya stared at his tablet, the rune glowing faintly under his touch. He couldn¡¯t explain it, but he felt a faint hum of energy, as though the rune was trying to communicate.


    "Take your runes with you, and study them before your first class with me," Professor Wirruna announced. "Do not treat them as a toy. They are powerful and useful instruments that deserve respect."


    The final stop was the History of Magic lecture hall, where a half-transparent man floated near the chalkboard. His spectral glow and kind smile immediately caught their attention.


    The History of Magic classroom was unlike any other they had visited. The walls were lined with enchanted tapestries depicting pivotal moments in magical history¡ªwizarding duels, the discovery of ancient artifacts, and even serene scenes of magical harmony with nature. Each tapestry moved subtly, as if alive with the stories they told.


    At the front of the room was a wide, crescent-shaped desk made of polished eucalyptus wood, behind which floated a large chalkboard that seemed to sketch on its own, the chalk moving as though guided by invisible hands. Rows of comfortable wooden desks were arranged in a semi-circle, creating an intimate, almost storytelling atmosphere.


    Soft orbs of magical light floated near the ceiling, giving the room a warm and welcoming glow. It felt less like a lecture hall and more like stepping into the pages of a magical storybook, where history could come alive at any moment.


    ¡°Ah, first-years!¡± the professor said warmly. ¡°I am Professor Cairns, and I assure you, history is not as dull as you might think.¡±


    The chalkboard behind him came to life, sketching out animated scenes of magical events. ¡°History whispers in every spell, every wand movement. To understand magic, you must understand its past.¡±


    Soya watched, entranced, as the chalk figures moved across the board. For the first time, he realized how alive history could be.


    The day passed in a whirlwind of wonder and information, each classroom offering a glimpse into the magical world that lay ahead. By the time the first-years returned to the Thylacea common room, Soya felt both exhausted and exhilarated.


    This was his new reality, and he couldn¡¯t wait to see what came next.

 Chapter 3: Classes Begin

    The morning was brisk as the first-years filed into the Charms classroom, their wands tucked securely in their robes. The room was as lively as it had been the day before, with colorful banners fluttering gently in the breeze created by the enchanted windows. The sunlight danced off the walls, casting shifting patterns of light that added to the vibrant atmosphere.


    Professor Jasper Coorong stood at the front, leaning casually against his desk, his signature wide grin already in place. ¡°Ah, my enthusiastic first-years!¡± he greeted, his voice warm and welcoming. ¡°Welcome to your very first Charms class. Please, take your seats.¡±


    Soya Vareen chose a desk near the middle, beside Davonte Evander, who gave him a reassuring nod as they sat. Around them, their classmates settled in, some with quiet excitement, others with a nervous energy that was almost palpable.


    Once everyone was seated, Professor Coorong began. ¡°Charms,¡± he said, standing tall, ¡°is the art of enhancement and manipulation. It¡¯s about bringing magic to the everyday¡ªmaking life just a little more extraordinary. Whether it¡¯s lighting a dark path, summoning objects, or creating protective wards, charms are at the heart of practical magic.¡±


    He tapped his wand against the blackboard, and a glowing word appeared: Focus.


    ¡°The first step,¡± Coorong continued, ¡°is focus. Magic, my young wizards and witches, doesn¡¯t just happen because you wave a stick around. It begins here.¡± He tapped his temple. ¡°Your mind is the conduit, and your wand channels that magic into reality.¡±


    He paused, letting the words sink in before adding, ¡°Today, we¡¯ll begin with a foundational charm: Lumos. It¡¯s simple, but don¡¯t underestimate it. This charm can light your way, expose hidden dangers, or signal for help.¡±


    Coorong raised his wand and held it with practiced precision. ¡°Observe.¡± With a subtle flick of his wrist and a clear, firm voice, he said, ¡°Lumos.¡±


    The tip of his wand flared to life, casting a steady, warm glow that illuminated the room. The students leaned forward, their eyes fixed on the glowing light. With another flick and a whispered ¡°Nox,¡± the light vanished.


    ¡°Now, who can tell me why the incantation and movement matter?¡± Coorong asked, scanning the room. Eliza Gorman, her hand shooting up immediately, answered, ¡°Because the wand movement and words guide the magic, right?¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Coorong said, his grin widening. ¡°The wand directs, the words focus. But remember¡ªmagic is as much intent as it is technique. If your mind isn¡¯t in the right place, the spell won¡¯t work.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s get started,¡± Coorong announced. ¡°Wands out!¡±


    Soya pulled out his wand¡ªa smooth, delicate piece of sakura wood, its grip familiar and comforting in his hand. He took a deep breath, listening carefully as Coorong repeated the instructions.


    ¡°Hold your wand steady, visualize the light you want to create, and say the incantation clearly: Lumos.¡±


    Around him, his classmates began to try. Eliza¡¯s wand lit up immediately, a bright and steady glow at the tip. ¡°Well done, Eliza!¡± Coorong called. ¡°A textbook example!¡±


    Soya hesitated, watching as Davonte whispered the incantation and managed a faint flicker of light. Encouraged by his friend¡¯s success, Soya focused on his own wand. He pictured a soft golden light, steady and warm, like the glow of a lantern on a quiet night. Flicking his wand upward, he whispered, ¡°Lumos.¡±


    A faint light appeared, flickered, and then vanished. Soya frowned but tried again, concentrating harder this time. ¡°Lumos.¡±


    This time, the light stayed, faint but steady. He stared at it in awe, his heart racing with excitement.


    ¡°Well done, Soya!¡± Coorong said, clapping his hands. ¡°A solid start. Now focus on sustaining it. Remember, the more vivid your visualization, the stronger your charm.¡±


    The classroom buzzed with activity as the students practiced. Some, like Sevrin Verelle, produced a blinding light almost immediately, while others, like Davonte, struggled to maintain a steady glow.


    ¡°Lumos!¡± Davonte muttered, his wand sparking faintly before fizzling out. He groaned, running a hand through his hair. ¡°This is harder than I thought.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re overthinking it,¡± Soya said, surprising himself. ¡°Just picture the light. Don¡¯t try to force it.¡±


    Davonte gave him a skeptical look but nodded. On his next attempt, his wand lit up with a soft, steady glow. ¡°Ha!¡± he said, grinning. ¡°Told you I¡¯d get it.¡±


    As the lesson went on, Soya found himself growing more confident. By the end of the hour, his wand produced a bright, steady light that he could maintain for several seconds.


    Professor Coorong clapped his hands, signaling the end of the lesson. ¡°Excellent work, everyone! You¡¯ve taken your first steps into the world of Charms. For homework, I want you to practice Lumos and Nox¡ªyes, turning the light off is just as important as turning it on. Keep your movements steady and your focus clear.¡±


    The students began packing up their things, the room buzzing with chatter about the lesson. As Soya slipped his wand back into his robes, he couldn¡¯t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. He wasn¡¯t the best in the class, but he¡¯d done it. He¡¯d cast his first spell.


    Davonte clapped him on the shoulder as they left the classroom. ¡°Not bad for your first try, mate. You¡¯ll be a natural in no time.¡±


    After a quick stop at the courtyard to grab fresh air and calm their excitement from the first lesson, the first-years headed to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. The anticipation in the group was palpable¡ªthis was the class everyone had been talking about since they first received their letters.


    Soya followed Davonte down a wide, dimly lit hallway, the sandstone walls casting long shadows as they approached a pair of large, iron-banded doors. Above them hung a carved wooden plaque, its text shifting as if alive: Defense Against the Dark Arts¡ªPreparedness is Protection.


    The classroom itself was strikingly different from the bright and lively Charms room. It was a vast, shadowy space lit by floating sconces that glowed with a faint, silvery light. The walls were lined with shelves of strange, foreboding objects: jars filled with swirling smoke, dark feathers that shimmered faintly in the dim light, and jagged shards of obsidian that seemed to absorb the room¡¯s glow.


    At the front of the room stood Professor Elise Marilla. Tall and commanding, her athletic build and the faint scar that ran down her cheek gave her an air of experience. She wore deep green robes cinched at the waist with a belt of leather and iron, and her wand was tucked into a holster at her side.


    ¡°Take your seats,¡± Professor Marilla said, her voice firm but not unkind. The students obeyed immediately, the nervous energy in the room intensifying.


    When the class was settled, Marilla surveyed them with a sharp gaze. ¡°Defense Against the Dark Arts is not a game,¡± she began. ¡°It is not about looking brave or showing off spells. This class is about survival¡ªabout protecting yourselves and others from the dangers you will inevitably face in the magical world.¡±


    Her tone was serious, but there was a warmth behind her eyes, as if she genuinely cared for each student in the room. ¡°But don¡¯t let that frighten you. Fear is natural. It¡¯s what you do with that fear that matters.¡±


    She turned and waved her wand, causing the blackboard behind her to fill with glowing white text:


    Defense Against the Dark Arts: Core Principles


    1. Awareness


    2. Reflexes


    3. Counteraction


    ¡°These are the foundations of defense,¡± she said, pointing to the board. ¡°Today, we¡¯ll focus on awareness and counteraction. The spell you¡¯ll learn is a basic but essential counter to minor jinxes: Finite Incantatem.¡±


    Marilla turned back to the class, her wand in hand. ¡°Before we get to the spell itself, let¡¯s talk about why awareness matters. The best defense is knowing what you¡¯re up against.¡±


    She tapped her wand against her palm, and a shadowy, snake-like figure appeared in the air above her. It hissed and writhed, its movements fluid and hypnotic.


    ¡°This is a harmless illusion,¡± she explained, ¡°but imagine if it wasn¡¯t. How would you react?¡±


    The students murmured nervously, some leaning back in their seats. Soya felt his chest tighten as the creature slithered closer.


    ¡°Step one,¡± Marilla continued, dispersing the illusion with a flick of her wand, ¡°don¡¯t panic. Panic clouds judgment. Step two: assess. Is it a threat? Can you neutralize it? And step three: act.¡±


    She gestured toward a target dummy at the side of the room. With a quick, decisive movement, she aimed her wand and said, ¡°Finite Incantatem.¡±


    The dummy, which had been glowing faintly with a jinx, returned to its neutral state. ¡°This spell cancels minor magical effects¡ªhexes, jinxes, basic curses. It¡¯s not a cure-all, but it¡¯s an essential tool.¡±


    Marilla turned to the students. ¡°Now it¡¯s your turn. Pair up. One of you will cast a simple jinx, and the other will counter it with Finite Incantatem. I¡¯ll be here to assist.¡±


    Soya found himself partnered with Davonte. ¡°All right,¡± Davonte said, grinning. ¡°You want to jinx me first, or should I jinx you?¡±


    ¡°You go first,¡± Soya replied nervously, gripping his wand.


    Davonte raised his wand, a mischievous glint in his eye. ¡°All right, don¡¯t panic. Leg-Locker Jinx!¡±


    Soya felt his legs snap together, his balance wobbling as he tried to stay upright. ¡°Hey!¡± he said, laughing nervously.


    ¡°Your turn!¡± Davonte said, stepping back.


    Soya took a deep breath, focusing on the spell. He raised his wand, remembering Marilla¡¯s instructions. ¡°Finite Incantatem!¡±The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    A faint burst of light shot from his wand, and the jinx on his legs dissolved. He staggered slightly but grinned. ¡°Got it!¡±


    ¡°Not bad,¡± Davonte said, nodding approvingly. ¡°My turn now.¡±


    Around the room, the students practiced with varying degrees of success. Eliza managed to cancel her partner¡¯s jinx on the first try, while Sevrin Verelle¡¯s counterspell produced a loud bang, startling everyone nearby.


    ¡°Steady wand movements!¡± Marilla called, moving through the room. ¡°Don¡¯t rush the incantation. Magic requires precision.¡±


    When she stopped by Soya and Davonte, she observed their exchange quietly before nodding. ¡°Good form, both of you,¡± she said. ¡°Soya, focus on projecting confidence. Magic responds to belief¡ªif you doubt yourself, the spell will falter.¡±


    Soya nodded, her words giving him a boost of determination. On his next attempt, his counterspell was quicker and more precise.


    As the lesson came to an end, Professor Marilla clapped her hands. ¡°Well done, everyone. Defense isn¡¯t about perfection¡ªit¡¯s about progress. Today, you¡¯ve taken your first steps toward protecting yourselves and others. Keep practicing Finite Incantatem at home, and we¡¯ll build on this foundation next time.¡±


    The students packed up their things, the room buzzing with excitement and relief. Soya couldn¡¯t help but feel a sense of pride as he and Davonte walked back toward the main corridor.


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t so bad,¡± Davonte said, his grin infectious. ¡°We make a pretty good team.¡±


    After the intensity of Defense Against the Dark Arts, the first-years were eager for a break. The Great Hall buzzed with activity as students from all houses gathered for lunch, the aroma of roasted meats, fresh bread, and hearty soups filling the air. The enchanted ceiling showed a bright, cloudless sky, its cheerful glow contrasting with the nervous energy of the first-years.


    Soya followed Davonte to the Thylacea table, where they found seats near the middle. The table was already laden with platters of sandwiches, steaming pies, and bowls of vibrant salads. Soya hesitated before piling his plate, still feeling like a guest in this strange, magical world.


    ¡°You need to eat, mate,¡± Davonte said with a grin, nudging him. ¡°You¡¯ll need the energy for whatever they throw at us next.¡±


    Soya smiled weakly, taking a small sandwich. He looked around, observing the other students at the table. Most of them were absorbed in their own conversations, but a few glanced his way, curiosity evident in their expressions.


    As Soya began to relax, a shadow fell over him. He looked up to see a tall boy with sharp green eyes and dark hair standing across the table. His Yarramundi badge glinted on his robes, and his expression was a mixture of disdain and smug amusement.


    ¡°You¡¯re the Muggle-born, aren¡¯t you?¡± the boy said, his voice cutting through the surrounding chatter like a blade.


    Soya froze, unsure how to respond. ¡°I¡ªyes, I am,¡± he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.


    The boy smirked, his eyes narrowing. ¡°Sevrin Verelle,¡± he introduced himself, though his tone suggested he didn¡¯t expect¡ªor want¡ªa reply. ¡°Yarramundi. I suppose it must be... overwhelming for someone like you, being here.¡±


    Soya swallowed hard, his appetite vanishing. ¡°It¡¯s different, yeah.¡±


    ¡°Different?¡± Sevrin repeated, as though the word amused him. ¡°I imagine it would be. After all, magic isn¡¯t exactly something you¡¯d find in one of your... little Muggle schools.¡±


    Davonte, who had been listening quietly, set down his goblet with a deliberate clink. ¡°Ease up, Verelle,¡± he said, his tone calm but firm. ¡°Everyone starts somewhere.¡±


    Sevrin raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. ¡°Of course. But some of us start with an advantage.¡± He glanced pointedly at Soya. ¡°Best you remember that.¡±


    Soya felt a surge of heat rise in his face, but before he could respond, another voice cut in.


    ¡°Sevrin,¡± said a girl from down the table, her tone sharp. ¡°Don¡¯t you have somewhere else to be?¡±


    Manaya Moon, the quiet Ningaloo student Soya had noticed earlier, was staring at Sevrin with an intensity that made even him pause. After a moment, he shrugged, his smirk fading.


    ¡°Enjoy your lunch,¡± he said, his voice dripping with mock politeness, before turning and walking away.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let him get to you,¡± Manaya said, her voice softening as she turned to Soya. ¡°Sevrin likes to think he¡¯s better than everyone else. He¡¯s not.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Soya mumbled, still feeling the sting of Sevrin¡¯s words.


    Davonte clapped him on the shoulder. ¡°Forget that guy. You¡¯re here because you belong, same as the rest of us.¡±


    Eliza Gorman, who had just joined them, plopped down beside Soya with a grin. ¡°What¡¯d I miss?¡±


    ¡°Sevrin being a jerk,¡± Davonte said bluntly, earning a snort of laughter from Eliza.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s nothing new,¡± she said, rolling her eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Soya. He¡¯s all talk. You¡¯ll show him what you¡¯re made of in no time.¡±


    Soya managed a small smile, their encouragement slowly easing his discomfort. He took a bite of his sandwich, the flavors rich and comforting.


    As lunch continued, the group¡¯s conversation shifted to lighter topics. Eliza¡¯s bubbly energy helped lift the mood, and even Manaya joined in, her quiet observations adding a grounding presence to the group. Soya found himself laughing along with their jokes, the tension from his encounter with Sevrin fading into the background.


    When the meal ended, the students began to gather their things, preparing for the next class. Davonte leaned toward Soya as they left the table. ¡°Stick with us, mate. You¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    Soya nodded, grateful for the support. As they headed to their next lesson, he felt a growing resolve. Sevrin might have his opinions, but Soya was determined to prove that he belonged at Austramore¡ªno matter where he came from.


    After lunch, the first-years made their way to the History of Magic lecture hall. The room was just as captivating as it had been during the tour, with its enchanted tapestries depicting significant magical events and its crescent-shaped desk made of polished eucalyptus wood. The floating orbs of light gave the room a warm, inviting glow, creating an atmosphere of storytelling rather than cold academia.


    Professor Mortimer Cairns floated near the front of the room, his half-transparent form glowing faintly. His kind smile and the way he gestured warmly to the students put Soya at ease almost immediately. Despite his ghostly appearance, Cairns radiated a sense of calm and wisdom.


    ¡°Welcome, first-years,¡± Cairns began, his voice soft but clear. ¡°I am Professor Cairns, and I have the honor of guiding you through the rich tapestry of magical history. While other classes will teach you how to wield magic, this class will teach you why we wield it¡ªand what has been gained and lost along the way.¡±


    The students took their seats, the crescent-shaped arrangement allowing everyone a clear view of the professor. Soya sat between Davonte and Eliza, his parchment and quill ready.


    Cairns gestured toward the largest tapestry, which depicted the founding of Austramore School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The image shifted subtly, showing scenes of the Blue Mountains, early settlers, and the Indigenous magic that formed the foundation of the school.


    ¡°This,¡± Cairns said, ¡°is where our story begins. Long before the school was built, the land itself was sacred¡ªa place where magic flowed freely. The Indigenous peoples of this region practiced some of the oldest forms of magic, working in harmony with the land.¡±


    He paused, his spectral hand resting on the tapestry. ¡°When settlers arrived, there was tension¡ªfear, misunderstanding. But there were also those who sought to bridge the gap. The four founders of Austramore came together with Indigenous Elders to create a school that would honor the magic of this land and teach future generations to respect and preserve it.¡±


    The tapestry shifted, showing the four founders standing together: Bunjil, Yarramundi, Ningaloo, and Thylacea. Their faces were solemn, their wands raised in unity.


    ¡°Each founder brought unique values and skills to the school,¡± Cairns continued. ¡°And from them, the four houses were born.¡±


    Eliza raised her hand, her brow furrowed in curiosity. ¡°Professor, why did they choose this specific location for the school?¡±


    ¡°An excellent question, Miss Gorman,¡± Cairns said, his eyes twinkling. ¡°The Blue Mountains are a place of immense magical significance. The land is rich in magical energy, and the founders believed it would provide both inspiration and protection for the school.¡±


    He gestured to the windows, which showed a sweeping view of the mountains. ¡°This location also serves as a reminder of the balance we must maintain between magic and the natural world. It is a lesson as old as magic itself.¡±


    Cairns turned back to the class, his tone shifting slightly. ¡°Now, history is not just about listening to me ramble¡ªit¡¯s about engaging with the past. Let¡¯s begin with a discussion. What do you think was the most important challenge the founders faced when creating the school?¡±


    Hands shot up around the room. Soya hesitated, unsure of his answer, but Davonte nudged him. ¡°Go on. Say something.¡±


    Soya raised his hand tentatively, and Cairns gestured to him with an encouraging smile. ¡°Mr. Vareen?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Soya began, his voice shaky, ¡°I think¡­ maybe the biggest challenge was bringing people together. If there was tension between the settlers and the Indigenous Elders, it must have been hard to find common ground.¡±


    Cairns nodded, his expression thoughtful. ¡°An insightful answer, Mr. Vareen. Unity is never easy, especially in the face of fear and prejudice. But it is precisely that challenge that makes the founders¡¯ achievement so remarkable.¡±


    To end the lesson, Cairns introduced a practical element. ¡°I¡¯d like you all to create a timeline of the events leading to the founding of Austramore. Use the enchanted tablets on your desks¡ªthey¡¯ll guide you through the key moments, but you¡¯ll need to fill in the details yourselves.¡±


    The students picked up the smooth stone tablets in front of them, which glowed faintly as they activated. Scenes from the tapestry appeared on the screens, along with prompts for additional information. Soya found the process fascinating, the tablet responding to his touch as he added notes and observations.


    Davonte leaned over, his brow furrowed. ¡°What year did Yarramundi join the others again?¡±


    ¡°1843,¡± Soya replied without looking up, the answer fresh from the lesson.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Davonte said, scribbling it down.


    As the hour came to a close, Cairns floated back to the front of the room. ¡°Well done, everyone. Your timelines are just the beginning of your journey through magical history. Remember, understanding our past is the first step to shaping our future.¡±


    The students handed in their tablets, the glowing screens dimming as they were placed back on the desks.


    As the class filed out, Cairns called after them, ¡°And don¡¯t forget to read the first chapter of Magical Milestones before our next lesson. There will be a quiz!¡±


    Davonte groaned as they walked into the corridor. ¡°A quiz already? This guy¡¯s a ghost and still doesn¡¯t take it easy on us.¡±


    Soya laughed, the tension from earlier in the day finally lifting. Magical history, it seemed, might not be so bad after all.


    After leaving the History of Magic classroom, the Thylacea first-years followed the spiral staircase that led deep beneath the castle. The air grew cooler with each step, and the faint scent of damp stone and herbs began to waft through the passage. Potions class was held in the lower levels of Austramore, a choice that added an air of mystique¡ªand trepidation¡ªto the subject.


    Soya¡¯s heart pounded as they approached a heavy wooden door etched with glowing runes. Above it, an iron plaque read: Potions¡ªPrecision Through Patience. The words seemed to hum faintly, as though they carried a warning.


    Davonte nudged Soya as they entered. ¡°Ready for this? I hear the professor¡¯s intense.¡±


    The room was dimly lit, with only the flickering light of floating lanterns to illuminate the space. Long wooden tables were arranged in rows, each equipped with cauldrons, burners, and neatly organized jars of ingredients. Shelves lined the walls, holding vials of colorful liquids, dried herbs, and what looked suspiciously like pickled animal parts.


    At the front of the room stood Professor Seikan Blackthorn. He was tall and thin, with shoulder-length raven-black hair and pale skin that seemed almost luminous in the dim light. His emerald-green eyes scanned the room as the students filed in, his expression unreadable. A long black cloak draped over his shoulders, its hem brushing the floor as he moved.


    ¡°Take your seats,¡± he said, his voice low and deliberate. The students hurried to comply, the scrape of chairs on stone echoing in the silence.


    Once they were seated, Blackthorn folded his hands behind his back and began. ¡°Potions is not a subject for the careless or the impulsive. One mistake¡ªa single grain of the wrong ingredient, a single extra stir¡ªand your potion is ruined. Or worse.¡±


    The tension in the room thickened as Blackthorn¡¯s gaze swept over the students. ¡°If you lack patience, discipline, or the ability to follow instructions to the letter, this class will be... challenging.¡±


    Blackthorn moved to the large cauldron at the front of the room, which bubbled with a faintly glowing green liquid. ¡°Today, we will begin with a simple but vital concoction: the Calming Draught. It is a potion designed to soothe nerves and ease anxiety. Useful for those who find themselves overwhelmed by the challenges of magic.¡±


    He gestured to the blackboard, where the recipe appeared in glowing green letters:


    Ingredients:


    3 sprigs of chamomile


    1 valerian root, finely sliced


    2 drops of essence of moonflower


    A pinch of powdered silverleaf


    Instructions:


    1. Add chamomile to the boiling water and stir clockwise three times.


    2. Add valerian root and simmer for two minutes.


    3. Slowly add moonflower essence, stirring counterclockwise until the potion turns pale blue.


    4. Sprinkle powdered silverleaf on top and let sit for one minute before removing from heat.


    Blackthorn turned back to the class. ¡°You will find the ingredients at your stations. Follow the instructions precisely. I will be observing.¡±


    Soya glanced nervously at the jars and vials neatly arranged on his station. He took a deep breath, trying to focus. ¡°Okay,¡± he muttered to himself. ¡°Chamomile first.¡±


    He dropped the sprigs of chamomile into the cauldron of boiling water and carefully stirred clockwise three times. The potion¡¯s color shifted faintly, from clear to a soft yellow.


    ¡°Not bad,¡± Davonte said from the station next to him. ¡°Just don¡¯t mess up the valerian¡ªit smells awful if you overdo it.¡±


    Soya smiled faintly, grateful for the advice. He added the finely sliced valerian root and watched as the potion began to bubble more vigorously.


    As the class worked, Blackthorn moved silently among them, his sharp eyes catching every detail. He stopped briefly at Eliza¡¯s station, where her potion had turned an alarming shade of green. ¡°You added the moonflower essence too quickly,¡± he said, his tone devoid of judgment. ¡°Dispose of this batch and begin again.¡±


    Eliza¡¯s cheeks turned pink, but she nodded and hurried to restart.


    When Blackthorn reached Soya¡¯s station, Soya felt his stomach tighten. The professor leaned over the cauldron, his expression impassive. ¡°Your stirring is uneven,¡± he said quietly. ¡°Control your movements, or the potion will separate.¡±


    Soya nodded, adjusting his grip on the stirring rod. As he stirred counterclockwise, the potion shifted to a pale blue hue, exactly as described.


    ¡°Better,¡± Blackthorn said, moving on without another word.


    Not everyone fared as well. A faint explosion drew the room¡¯s attention to Sevrin Verelle, whose cauldron emitted a puff of acrid smoke. ¡°Too much valerian,¡± Blackthorn said, waving his wand to clear the air. ¡°Dispose of it and try again.¡±


    Sevrin scowled but complied, muttering quietly under his breath as he emptied the cauldron with a flick of his wand.


    Davonte, meanwhile, was grinning as he held up a vial of pale blue liquid. ¡°Got it!¡± he said, earning an approving nod from Blackthorn.


    Soya followed the final step, sprinkling powdered silverleaf over his potion. The mixture shimmered briefly before settling into a smooth, translucent blue. He carefully ladled some into a vial and set it on his station.


    ¡°Well done, Mr. Vareen,¡± Blackthorn said as he passed. ¡°A precise execution.¡±


    As the hour came to a close, Blackthorn addressed the class. ¡°Potions is a delicate art, but one that rewards diligence. Take what you have learned today and apply it to your future work. Your next lesson will build upon this foundation.¡±


    The students packed up their things, the room buzzing with quiet chatter. As they filed out, Davonte leaned over to Soya. ¡°See? Not so bad, right?¡±


    Soya smiled. ¡°I think I might actually like this class.¡±


    ¡°Speak for yourself,¡± Eliza muttered, still smelling faintly of burnt valerian.


    The group laughed as they made their way back up the stairs. Soya felt a quiet pride. Potions, it seemed, might just be one of his strengths.

 Chapter 4: Day of Firsts.

    The glow of the setting sun cast sharp shadows across the cobblestones of the castle courtyard. Soya Vareen sat on a bench near the central fountain, his calico kitten curled up beside him. Groups of students milled about, talking, laughing, and enjoying the cool evening air.


    Davonte Evander leaned against the fountain, tossing bits of bread to his ferret familiar, who snatched them mid-air. "What a day, huh?" Davonte said, smirking. "Classes are done, no major catastrophes. I¡¯d say that¡¯s a win."


    "Yeah," Soya said, still turning over the day¡¯s lessons in his mind. "It was... interesting."


    Nearby, Eliza Gorman from Thylacea sat cross-legged on the grass with a group of first-years. She waved Soya over, a grin on her face. "Soya, come here! You¡¯ve got to see this!"


    Soya hesitated, but Davonte gave him a push. "Go on. Better than sitting here all quiet."


    As Soya approached, he saw Eliza holding an illustrated guide to magical creatures, the page open to a snarling Drop Bear mid-leap. "Look at this," she said, pointing to the creature. "Imagine one of these landing on your head in the middle of the bush!"


    "Don¡¯t be loud, and it won¡¯t," said a voice. Soya glanced up to see Manaya Moon, a quiet Ningaloo student, standing nearby. Her tone was calm but firm. "They only attack when provoked."


    "Still wouldn¡¯t want to meet one," Eliza muttered, closing the book.


    Before Soya could respond, a chill ran through the courtyard as Sevrin Verelle strolled in, flanked by Sage Blackthorn. The two radiated a smug arrogance that made the other students instinctively give them space. Sevrin¡¯s sharp green eyes locked onto Soya almost immediately, a slow smirk spreading across his face.


    "Well, well," Sevrin said, his voice cutting through the courtyard¡¯s ambient noise. "If it isn¡¯t the Muggle-born. Enjoying your first day in the magical world?"


    Soya tensed, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. "It¡¯s been fine," he said quietly.


    Sevrin¡¯s smirk widened. "Fine? That¡¯s good to hear. Though I suppose even the most basic lessons must seem impressive to someone like you."


    Sage chuckled, twirling his wand idly between his fingers. "Do you even know what you¡¯re doing, Vareen? Or are you just waving that wand around and hoping for the best?"


    "Leave him alone," Davonte said, stepping up beside Soya. His tone was firm, but there was a tension in his stance as he eyed the two bullies.


    Sevrin¡¯s gaze flicked to Davonte, his smirk twisting into something colder. "And what are you going to do about it, Evander? Protect the little Muggle-born?"


    "This doesn¡¯t concern you," Sage added, his voice dripping with mockery. "We¡¯re just having a friendly chat."


    Sevrin turned back to Soya, his wand appearing in his hand with a casual flick. "Show us what you¡¯ve learned, Vareen. Surely you¡¯ve picked up something today."


    Soya¡¯s heart pounded, but he stood his ground. "I don¡¯t have to prove anything to you."


    "Oh, but I think you do," Sevrin said, his voice dangerously low. He raised his wand, aiming it directly at Soya. "Let¡¯s start with something simple. Tarantallegra!"


    Soya barely had time to react before his legs jerked uncontrollably, sending him stumbling backward. Laughter erupted from Sevrin and Sage as Soya struggled to regain his balance.


    Davonte moved to draw his wand, but Sage was quicker, sending a spark of energy toward him. "Ah-ah," Sage said, his grin widening. "Don¡¯t interrupt."


    Soya gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus despite the humiliating spell. He raised his wand, his voice steady despite his shaking legs. "Finite Incantatem!"


    The spell broke, and Soya¡¯s legs stilled. He took a deep breath, his grip on his wand tightening. "Is that all you¡¯ve got?"


    Sevrin¡¯s smirk twisted into a nasty smile. "Not bad for a beginner," he said, his tone mocking. "But let¡¯s see if you can handle this."


    "Aqua Hastae." He flicked his wand again, sending a jet of water hurtling toward Soya.


    This time, Soya was ready. "Protego!" A shimmering barrier appeared, deflecting the water harmlessly to the side.


    The laughter stopped. Sage¡¯s expression darkened, and he stepped forward, his wand aimed directly at Soya. "You¡¯re getting cocky, Vareen. Let¡¯s fix that. Cru-"


    Before Sage could finish casting his spell, a sharp voice rang out across the courtyard. "Enough!"


    Professor Marilla strode into the courtyard, her presence commanding immediate attention. Her eyes blazed as she took in the scene, her gaze locking onto Sevrin and Sage. "What is going on here?"


    "Nothing, Professor," Sevrin said smoothly, lowering his wand. "Just a bit of practice."


    "It didn¡¯t look like practice to me," Marilla said, her tone icy. "Wands away. Both of you. Now."


    Reluctantly, Sevrin and Sage complied, though the smirks never left their faces. "Of course, Professor," Sevrin said, his voice dripping with false politeness. "We were just helping him catch up."


    Marilla¡¯s gaze didn¡¯t waver. "You will report to my office tomorrow evening. We¡¯ll discuss your ¡®helpful¡¯ behavior in detail."


    As the two bullies walked away, Sage muttered something under his breath, earning a sharp look from Marilla. When they were out of earshot, she turned to Soya. "Are you all right?"


    Soya nodded, though his hands were still trembling. "Yes, Professor."


    "Good. Remember, you don¡¯t have to prove anything to anyone," Marilla said, her voice softening slightly. "But standing up for yourself takes courage. Well done."


    As Marilla walked away, Davonte clapped Soya on the shoulder. "You were brilliant, mate. Don¡¯t let them get to you."


    Eliza approached, her expression a mix of frustration and admiration. "Idiots," she muttered. "But you showed them."


    Soya managed a small smile, the tension in his chest beginning to ease. As the courtyard emptied, he gathered his things and headed back to the common room.


    As he lay in bed, the soft purring of his kitten beside him, Soya replayed the day¡¯s events in his mind. He slowly succumbed to sleep as his kitten''s purrs lulled him into a deep slumber.


    The morning sunlight streamed through the enchanted windows of the Thylacea dormitory, painting the room in warm hues. Soya stretched and yawned, his limbs still heavy from the previous day¡¯s events. His kitten stretched alongside him, letting out a tiny, contented meow. It was Saturday, and there were no classes on the schedule.


    The dormitory was buzzing with life as the first-years prepared for a day of exploration and leisure. Davonte Evander was already up, tossing his ferret familiar a piece of dried fruit while buttoning his robes. "Morning, Soya," he said, flashing a grin. "Sleep well?"This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    "Yeah," Soya replied, sliding out of bed and rubbing his eyes. "It¡¯s nice knowing we don¡¯t have to rush off to class."


    "For sure," Davonte agreed. "Eliza¡¯s organizing something in the common room. She said it¡¯s a ¡®practice session,¡¯ whatever that means. You coming?"


    Soya nodded, quickly getting dressed and grabbing his wand. As he followed Davonte down the spiral staircase, the familiar hum of the Thylacea common room greeted him. The space was warm and lively, with students chatting and planning their day. Eliza Gorman stood at the center, her auburn curls bouncing as she spoke with her usual energy.


    "All right, everyone!" Eliza clapped her hands to get their attention. "Today, we¡¯re practicing spells. If we want to get ahead, we need to stay sharp even when there¡¯s no class. I¡¯ve got a list of charms and jinxes we can work on."


    Soya joined the growing group, curiosity piqued. Eliza handed out a few sheets of parchment with instructions for various spells. "We¡¯ll start with something practical," she said. "The Summoning Charm. Accio is incredibly useful, but it takes focus and precision. Watch."


    She pulled out her wand, aimed it at a quill sitting on a nearby table, and said, "Accio quill!" The quill zipped through the air and landed neatly in her hand. "See? Easy enough if you concentrate."


    Soya picked a target¡ªa small book on another table¡ªand raised his wand. "Accio book," he said, focusing intently. Nothing happened. He frowned, glancing at Eliza.


    "Don¡¯t worry," she said encouragingly. "It¡¯s all about intent. Picture the book flying toward you. Try again."


    Soya took a deep breath, visualizing the book in his mind. He imagined it lifting off the table and soaring into his hands. "Accio book!" This time, the book wobbled slightly before sliding a few inches toward him.


    "That¡¯s better!" Eliza said. "Keep practicing."


    After several more attempts, Soya finally managed to summon the book with a satisfying swoosh.


    "Nice work," Davonte said, clapping him on the back. "You¡¯re a natural."


    Eliza moved them on to the next spell: Lumos Maxima, a more powerful version of the basic wand-lighting charm. "This one¡¯s a bit trickier," she explained. "It creates a bright, floating orb of light that can illuminate a large area. Perfect for exploring dark places."


    She demonstrated, holding her wand high and saying, "Lumos Maxima!" A glowing orb of light burst from the tip of her wand and floated upward, bathing the room in a warm glow.


    "Whoa," Soya whispered, captivated by the spell.


    "Your turn," Eliza said, lowering her wand.


    Soya took a steadying breath and raised his wand. He thought of the warm, comforting light Eliza had conjured and said, "Lumos Maxima!" His wand sparked faintly but didn¡¯t produce the orb.


    "Focus on the light," Eliza said. "Imagine it growing and leaving your wand."


    Soya nodded, closing his eyes briefly to concentrate. He raised his wand again and tried once more. "Lumos Maxima!" This time, a small orb of light formed at the tip of his wand. It hovered unsteadily for a moment before fading.


    "That¡¯s a great start," Eliza said. "You¡¯ll get the hang of it."


    By the time they took a break, Soya had managed to produce a stable light orb that floated a few feet above his head. He couldn¡¯t stop smiling as he watched it hover, feeling a growing sense of confidence.


    The group spent most of the day experimenting with other spells from Eliza¡¯s list, including the Jelly-Legs Jinx and the Tickling Charm. Soya found the jinx particularly fun to practice, laughing along with his peers as they wobbled and stumbled under its effects.


    As they gathered their things and prepared to head to lunch, Eliza turned to Soya. "You¡¯ve got a knack for this," she said with a grin. "Stick with us, and you¡¯ll be top of the class in no time."


    After spending time practicing spells with his peers, Soya felt the need for some quiet. The constant chatter and activity were beginning to wear on him, and he needed a moment to unwind. Wandering through the castle, he eventually found a secluded alcove near a window, away from the busy common areas. The sunlight streaming through the glass created a patch of warmth on the stone floor, and Soya settled onto a nearby bench, pulling his sketchbook and pencils from his satchel.


    He flipped through pages filled with drawings of magical creatures he¡¯d imagined or seen in books. There was a particularly detailed sketch of a phoenix mid-flight, its wings spread wide with feathers like flames. Another showed a mischievous-looking goblin clutching a collection of shiny trinkets. Each page told a story, and Soya¡¯s careful lines brought the creatures to life.


    Finding a blank page, Soya began sketching a new creature¡ªa hybrid of his own imagination. He envisioned a sleek, fox-like animal with glowing eyes and feathered tails that shimmered as they moved. His pencil moved quickly, almost as if guided by something other than his hand. The details came naturally, the fur texture, the curve of the claws, and the faint glow around its form.


    As he worked, Soya¡¯s focus sharpened, and the world around him seemed to fade. He didn¡¯t notice the faint shimmer that began to emanate from his sketchbook, nor the way his pencil seemed to darken and deepen the lines on its own. The creature on the page seemed to take on an almost lifelike quality, its eyes gleaming with an unnatural depth. For a brief moment, Soya thought he saw the fox¡¯s tails sway, as if caught in a breeze.


    He blinked and shook his head, chalking it up to his imagination. "Just tired," he muttered to himself, but his hand hesitated over the page. The drawing looked... different. More vivid, as though it were etched into the paper rather than drawn on it.


    Soya ran his fingers over the page, expecting to feel the usual smooth surface of the paper. Instead, the lines of the drawing felt slightly raised, as if the creature were pressing against the page from the other side. He frowned, turning the book slightly in the light. The shadows within the drawing seemed to ripple faintly, almost imperceptibly, but enough to make his stomach tighten.


    Taking a deep breath, Soya closed the sketchbook and slipped it back into his satchel. His kitten, which had followed him and curled up at his feet, mewed softly and stretched. He reached down to scratch behind its ears, grounding himself in the comforting simplicity of the moment.


    As he stood and prepared to leave the alcove, the faintest hint of ink remained on his fingertips, shimmering faintly in the sunlight before fading away. Soya didn¡¯t notice, but the lingering impression of the fox stayed with him.


    The alcove had been a comforting retreat, but now he felt restless. Standing, he stretched, his calico familiar meowed softly and padded after him as he made his way out of the quiet corner.


    The castle corridors were calmer now, with most students either outside or gathered in the common rooms. Soya wandered aimlessly, enjoying the quiet but unsure of what he was looking for. He passed by an open window, pausing briefly to admire the sunlight spilling across the stone floor. The kitten wound itself around his legs, purring softly.


    Turning a corner, he nearly bumped into an older student who was leaning casually against the wall. The boy looked to be a few years older¡ªperhaps a fourth year¡ªwith messy dark hair and an air of easy confidence. His robes bore the green trim of Ningaloo house, and a leather-bound book was tucked under one arm.


    "Watch where you¡¯re going, firstie," the older student said, though his tone was more amused than annoyed. His sharp blue eyes fixed on Soya with interest. "You¡¯re the new Muggle-born, aren¡¯t you?"


    Soya tensed slightly. "Yeah. That¡¯s me."


    The older boy gave a low whistle, shaking his head. "First Muggle-born here in what, two centuries? You must be making history just by showing up."


    "I guess," Soya said awkwardly, glancing down at his kitten, which had begun sniffing curiously at the older boy¡¯s boots.


    The boy crouched, holding out a hand. The kitten sniffed it cautiously before allowing itself to be petted. "Cute familiar," the boy said. "What¡¯s its name?"


    "I... haven¡¯t decided yet," Soya admitted. "Nothing feels right."


    "You¡¯ll figure it out," the boy said, straightening. "I¡¯m Callen, by the way. Fourth year, Ningaloo. And you are?"


    "Soya," he replied, adjusting his satchel. "Thylacea."


    Callen nodded. "Figured as much. You¡¯ve got that determined look about you. Listen, I¡¯m not here to bother you or anything, but word¡¯s gotten around. People are curious about you."


    "Curious how?" Soya asked warily.


    Callen shrugged. "Most of them are just nosy. Some think it¡¯s a big deal, others don¡¯t care. But if I were you, I¡¯d keep an eye on the ones who don¡¯t seem too thrilled about you being here."


    "Like Sevrin?" Soya guessed.


    Callen¡¯s smirk widened. "Exactly. That one¡¯s trouble. And his sister? Even worse. She¡¯s got a reputation for making life miserable for anyone who crosses her."


    Soya nodded, his mind flashing back to the confrontation in the courtyard. "I¡¯ll keep that in mind."


    "Good," Callen said, stepping aside to let Soya pass. "Anyway, enjoy your peace while you can. Once classes pick up, you¡¯ll be too busy to catch your breath."


    Soya offered a small smile. "Thanks."


    Soya adjusted his satchel and headed toward the Thylacea common room. The corridors were quiet as the day wound down, the warm light from the enchanted sconces casting long shadows along the stone walls. His kitten trotted alongside him, its tail flicking with each step.


    When Soya reached the entrance to the Thylacea common room, the carved image of a Tasmanian tiger on the wooden door seemed to come alive, its eyes glowing faintly as it regarded him. "Password?" it asked in a deep, rumbling voice.


    "Courage through adaptability," Soya replied, the words coming automatically now.


    The tiger nodded, the door swinging open to reveal the cozy interior. The room was lively with students, some sprawled across beanbags and others huddled in small groups over games of Wizard¡¯s Chess. The warm glow of the fire in the hearth made the space feel welcoming, and Soya felt himself relax as he stepped inside.


    "Soya!" Davonte called from a corner where he and Eliza were sitting with a few other first-years. "Over here!"


    Soya made his way over, his kitten bounding ahead and leaping onto Davonte¡¯s lap, earning a laugh. "Looks like someone¡¯s adopted me," Davonte joked, scratching behind the kitten¡¯s ears.


    "How was your wandering?" Eliza asked, watching a chess piece sliding across the board. "Find anything interesting?"


    "Not really," Soya said, settling into an empty chair. "Ran into a fourth year from Ningaloo. He gave me some advice¡ªmostly about watching out for Sevrin and his sister."


    Eliza wrinkled her nose. "His sister? Lykaios? Yeah, she¡¯s bad news. I heard she once turned a second-year¡¯s cauldron into a jellyfish just because they sat in her seat during Potions."


    Davonte laughed. "Sounds about right. The Verelles think they own this place. Just keep your head up and don¡¯t let them push you around, Soya. They thrive on people backing down."


    "I¡¯ll try," Soya said, though he couldn¡¯t help feeling uneasy at the thought of crossing paths with either of the Verelles again.


    The conversation shifted to lighter topics as the group began planning how to spend their free day tomorrow. Eliza suggested exploring the greenhouses, while Davonte argued in favor of sneaking down to the kitchens for snacks. Soya listened, chiming in occasionally, but mostly enjoying the easy camaraderie of his housemates.


    As the evening wore on, the common room gradually quieted. Students drifted off to their dormitories, and the fire in the hearth burned lower. Soya finally stood, stifling a yawn. "I think I¡¯m going to call it a night."


    "Good idea," Davonte said, stretching. "Tomorrow¡¯s going to be busy."


    Soya scooped up his kitten, who had curled up on a nearby cushion, and headed toward the spiral staircase that led to the first-years¡¯ dormitory. As he climbed the steps, the soft light from the sconces flickered faintly against the walls, and the quiet sounds of his kitten¡¯s purring accompanied him. The day had been long, and as he reached the dormitory door, he focused on getting some rest.

 Chapter 5: Tideball

    The weekend had arrived, and with it, the promise of a quiet Sunday. Soya had been looking forward to a peaceful day of sketching and relaxation, his kitten curled up beside him as he worked. But Eliza Gorman and Davonte Evander had other plans.


    "Soya, you''re coming with us," Eliza said, her voice bright with excitement as she practically dragged him from his chair in the common room.


    "Come on, it''ll be fun," Davonte added, grinning. "It''s Tideball today. You can¡¯t miss it. It''s a class, but it¡¯s more like a game."


    Soya blinked, surprised. "I didn¡¯t sign up for any sports elective."


    "Well, it''s optional," Eliza said. "But everyone¡¯s talking about it. You get to ride magical sea creatures! I mean, how often do you get to do that? Plus, it''s a chance to hang out and learn something new."


    Davonte nodded. "It¡¯s not just about the game. It¡¯s a really good workout, and honestly, it¡¯s thrilling. You¡¯ll love it, Soya."


    Soya hesitated. He had never been a fan of high-energy sports, especially ones that involved water. But he didn¡¯t want to seem like he was afraid to try something new either. After a brief pause, he sighed. "Alright, I¡¯ll give it a shot."


    The walk to the Tideball dome was an energetic one, with Eliza and Davonte leading the charge. Soya trailed slightly behind, his reluctance masked by the curiosity that bubbled beneath the surface.


    "Trust me, Soya, you¡¯ll love it," Eliza said, her voice practically bouncing off the stone walls as they exited the castle. "This isn¡¯t just any sport. It¡¯s magic, speed, strategy... It¡¯s like nothing you¡¯ve ever seen before."


    "And if you hate it," Davonte added, grinning, "at least you¡¯ll get a laugh out of Eliza missing every shot."


    Eliza scoffed. "I¡¯d like to remind you who scored the winning goal during our first match before school this year."


    "That¡¯s because I set it up perfectly," Davonte countered, tossing a small rock into the air and catching it as he walked. "Teamwork, Eliza. Look it up."


    Their banter helped ease some of Soya¡¯s nerves as they approached the dome. The shimmering structure loomed before them, its translucent walls pulsating faintly as if alive. Inside, the shifting currents and glowing vortex created an otherworldly spectacle that immediately captured Soya¡¯s attention.


    Professor Wade stood near the entrance, her aquamarine robes fluttering slightly in the breeze. She smiled warmly as the group approached. "Welcome, everyone. I see some new faces today. Don¡¯t worry if this is your first time¡ªTideball is as much about learning as it is about competition."


    Soya was still unsure about how he''d fare in a game like this. He had no experience with aquatic sports, and the idea of riding a magical creature underwater was intimidating. But as he looked around, he saw the eager expressions of his classmates, many of them already looking forward to the challenge.


    "Let¡¯s begin with the basics," Professor Wade said, clapping her hands. "Tideball is a fast-paced, high-energy game where players ride enchanted sea creatures and work together to pass a water-enchanted sphere¡ªknown as the Tide Orb¡ªinto a shifting vortex at the center of the arena. You¡¯ll be assigned positions today, and each of you will play a role: Shooter, Defender, Interceptor, Tactician, Orb Master, or Keeper."


    She gestured to the mounts lined up beside the water. "The mounts you¡¯ll ride today are enchanted creatures of the sea. These creatures bond with you, and the better you connect with your mount, the faster and more responsive it will be. We have seahorses, manta rays, and dolphin sprites. All are equally capable, depending on how you handle them."


    As the students made their way to their mounts, Soya¡¯s stomach fluttered with nerves. Eliza and Davonte had already chosen their mounts¡ªa swift seahorse for Eliza and a powerful manta ray for Davonte. Soya hesitated for a moment, glancing at the available options.


    His eyes landed on a dolphin sprite, a graceful creature with a shimmering, silvery-blue body that seemed to glide effortlessly through the water. Its sleek fins flicked back and forth, and its eyes sparkled with intelligence. Soya stepped forward, tentatively extending his hand.


    The dolphin sprite nudged his palm with its snout, and Soya felt a wave of calm wash over him. It was as if the creature understood him, and despite his nervousness, he felt a sense of connection. He climbed onto its back, adjusting his grip on the reins as the sprite dipped into the water with an elegant leap.


    "Good choice," Professor Wade said, nodding in approval. "Dolphin sprites are fast and agile, balancing speed with maneuverability. You¡¯ll find them responsive to your commands. Now, let¡¯s get you all acclimated to your mounts."


    Professor Wade began by demonstrating how to control the mounts. "To guide your mount, simply use your magic and speak the commands in unison. The mount will respond based on your focus and intent. Remember, it¡¯s not just about giving orders¡ªit¡¯s about forming a bond."


    Soya hesitated before whispering, "Forward," to the dolphin sprite. The creature surged ahead smoothly, its movements fluid and fast. Soya grinned in surprise as the wind and water rushed past him.


    "Good," Wade said, watching his progress. "Now, try a turn."


    Soya focused and guided the sprite in a slow circle, feeling the connection deepen as it responded to his commands with ease. It was exhilarating, the feeling of gliding through the water on a creature so perfectly attuned to his thoughts


    "Now let''s focus on the spells used in Tideball." Professor Wade¡¯s voice carried easily across the arena as she demonstrated each one, her wand movements precise and deliberate.


    "Let¡¯s start with Celeritas Aqua," she said, raising her wand toward her mount¡ªa sleek manta ray that hovered just above the water¡¯s surface. "This spell gives your mount a temporary burst of speed. Watch closely."


    With a flick of her wand, she called out, "Celeritas Aqua!" The manta ray shot forward, gliding effortlessly across the water in a blur of motion. The students watched in awe as the creature executed a sharp turn, its movements fluid and controlled.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    "Now, your turn," Professor Wade said, motioning for the students to try.


    Soya hesitated, gripping his wand tightly as he sat astride his dolphin sprite. The creature, sensing his doubt, whistled a reassuring tune. Taking a deep breath, Soya pointed his wand and said, "Celeritas Aqua!"


    The sprite responded immediately, surging forward with a burst of speed that sent Soya leaning back to maintain his balance. He could feel the power of the spell coursing through the mount, a tangible connection between his magic and the creature¡¯s movements.


    "Good start, Soya!" Professor Wade called. "Now try guiding it through a turn. Use your focus to control the spell."


    Soya concentrated, envisioning a smooth arc as he gently tugged the reins. The sprite responded, its body curving gracefully as it completed the turn. A small smile crept onto Soya¡¯s face as he realized he was beginning to get the hang of it.


    The next spell, Orb Vincta, required more finesse. Professor Wade explained, "This spell creates a protective barrier around the Tide Orb, making it harder for your opponents to steal. The key is precision and timing. If you cast it too soon, the barrier will fade before you need it. Too late, and your opponents will already have the orb."


    She demonstrated by casting the spell on the floating Tide Orb. "Orb Vincta!" The orb glowed faintly as a shimmering barrier formed around it, pulsating like a heartbeat.


    Soya watched intently as his classmates took turns practicing. Eliza¡¯s first attempt fizzled out before the barrier could fully form, while Davonte managed to create a sturdy shield on his second try.


    When it was Soya¡¯s turn, he focused on the orb, imagining the barrier encasing it like a protective bubble. "Orb Vincta!" he said firmly, his wand pointed at the orb. A faint shimmer appeared, but the barrier flickered and dissolved.


    "Good effort," Professor Wade said. "Try again, but this time, picture the barrier as an extension of your magic. You¡¯re not just casting a spell¡ªyou¡¯re wrapping the orb in your intent."


    Soya nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration. He raised his wand and tried again. "Orb Vincta!" This time, the barrier solidified, glowing faintly as it surrounded the orb.


    "Well done," Wade said, nodding approvingly. "Now, let¡¯s move on to the final spell: Vortex Fluxus."


    The last spell was one of the most challenging, designed to manipulate the position of the vortex. Professor Wade explained its importance: "The vortex is the goal, but it moves unpredictably. By using Vortex Fluxus, you can shift its position slightly, disrupting your opponent¡¯s aim or creating a better angle for your team. However, this spell requires precision and a lot of focus, so use it sparingly."


    She demonstrated by pointing her wand at the glowing vortex. "Vortex Fluxus!" The vortex shimmered and drifted a few feet to the left, its swirling currents adjusting seamlessly.


    Soya practiced the spell alongside his classmates, finding it difficult to maintain his focus while tracking the vortex¡¯s movement. His first few attempts caused the vortex to wobble erratically before snapping back to its original position.


    "Don¡¯t rush," Wade advised. "Feel the flow of the currents and guide the vortex gently. It¡¯s like steering a boat¡ªyou can¡¯t force it; you have to work with it."


    After several tries, Soya finally managed to shift the vortex slightly, earning a nod of approval from the professor.


    With the spells practiced, the students were divided into teams for the match. Soya found himself paired with Eliza, Davonte, and three older students who quickly took charge of the team¡¯s strategy. Soya was assigned the role of Interceptor, while Eliza played as a Shooter and Davonte as the Orb Master.


    The opposing team consisted of experienced players who wasted no time seizing the Tide Orb at the start of the match. Their Orb Master enchanted the orb with Celeritas Aqua, sending it speeding toward their Shooter, who aimed for the vortex.


    "Intercept it, Soya!" Eliza shouted.


    Soya urged his dolphin sprite forward, shouting, "Accio Orb!" The orb wobbled in mid-air, breaking free of its trajectory and flying toward Soya¡¯s outstretched hand. He caught it just in time, spinning his mount to avoid an opposing Interceptor.


    "Nice save!" Davonte called, casting Orb Vincta to protect the orb as Soya passed it to Eliza.


    The game intensified as both teams fought to control the orb. The shifting currents and moving vortex added an unpredictable element, forcing players to adapt quickly. Soya found himself completely immersed in the action, his focus sharp as he anticipated the opposing team¡¯s moves.


    The game ramped up in intensity as players adjusted to the rhythm of the shifting currents and unpredictable vortex. Soya, still new to the sport, found himself relying heavily on his instincts and the skills he¡¯d just practiced. His dolphin sprite responded eagerly to his commands, its sleek movements cutting through the water with precision.


    Midway through the match, the opposing team¡¯s Orb Master enchanted the Tide Orb with Orb Vincta, forming a shimmering barrier around it as their Shooter lined up a long-distance throw toward the vortex.


    "Not on my watch," Eliza muttered, gripping the reins of her seahorse mount. "Vortex Fluxus!" she called out, her wand aimed at the vortex. The swirling goal shifted slightly to the left just as the opposing Shooter released the orb. The shot missed, skimming harmlessly past the vortex.


    "Nice move!" Soya called, steering his mount toward the loose orb. The opposing Defender tried to cut him off, but Soya was quicker. He shouted, "Accio Orb!" and the orb flew into his grasp.


    "Pass it, Soya!" Davonte yelled, his manta ray gliding into position near the vortex. Soya focused, aiming carefully before throwing the orb with all his strength. Davonte caught it smoothly, enchanting it with Celeritas Aqua to speed it up. With a flick of his wand, he hurled it toward the vortex.


    The opposing Keeper reacted quickly, summoning a watery shield to block the shot. The orb rebounded, creating a scramble as players from both teams converged to reclaim it. Soya darted through the chaos, narrowly avoiding a collision with an opposing Interceptor.


    "Get ready, Eliza!" he called, managing to snatch the orb and toss it toward her. She caught it mid-dive, her seahorse weaving expertly through the shifting currents. With a confident shout of "Aqua Hastae!" she launched the orb toward the vortex. The shimmering sphere streaked through the water and passed cleanly into the swirling goal.


    "Score!" Professor Wade¡¯s voice echoed across the arena as the vortex flared brightly. Eliza pumped her fist, grinning triumphantly.


    The rest of the match was a blur of motion and strategy. Soya grew more comfortable with his role as an Interceptor, successfully stealing the orb twice more and even blocking a spell from an opposing Orb Master with a well-timed "Protego!" Davonte and Eliza coordinated their attacks seamlessly, scoring another goal before the final whistle blew.


    When the match ended, Soya¡¯s team emerged victorious with a narrow lead. The students gathered near the edge of the arena, catching their breath and chatting animatedly about the game.


    "You did great, Soya," Eliza said, giving him a proud smile. "For someone who¡¯d never played before, you held your own out there."


    "Yeah, mate," Davonte added with a grin. "That last interception was textbook. You¡¯ve got some natural talent for this."


    Soya shrugged, feeling a mix of relief and satisfaction. "I was just trying not to mess up."


    "You didn¡¯t," Eliza said firmly. "You¡¯ll be a regular Tideball star in no time."


    After returning their mounts to the resting area and thanking them with gentle pats, the students made their way back to the castle. The group split up, with some heading to the library and others returning to their common rooms. Soya, feeling the need for some quiet, decided to find a secluded spot to unwind.


    He wandered through the castle until he reached a small courtyard tucked away behind a row of towering eucalyptus trees. The space was peaceful, with sunlight filtering through the leaves and the gentle sound of a nearby fountain providing a soothing backdrop.


    Soya settled onto a stone bench and pulled out his sketchbook, his fingers already itching to draw. Flipping to a blank page, he began sketching the dolphin sprite he had ridden during the game. Its streamlined body and playful expression took shape under his pencil, the details coming to life with each stroke.


    He added the swirling currents of the Tideball arena in the background, trying to capture the chaotic beauty of the match. His focus deepened as he worked, the sounds of the courtyard fading into the background.


    As he sketched, his pencil seemed to move almost on its own, the lines darker and more precise than usual. He paused, staring at the page. The drawing had an unusual depth to it, as if the dolphin sprite were about to leap off the paper.


    Shaking his head, Soya set the sketchbook aside and leaned back against the bench. His kitten, which had followed him to the courtyard, climbed onto his lap and purred contentedly. He scratched behind its ears, letting the quiet moment ground him after the whirlwind of the day.


    Later, as the sun dipped lower in the sky, Soya made his way back to the Thylacea common room. The space was warm and lively, with students gathered in small groups to chat, play games, or work on assignments. Soya found Davonte and Eliza near the fire, their conversation punctuated by laughter.


    "Hey, Soya!" Eliza called, waving him over. "We were just talking about Tideball. You¡¯ve got to join the next match. You¡¯re a natural."


    Soya smiled faintly, taking a seat beside them. "Maybe. I still need to figure out those spells. The vortex one¡¯s tricky."


    "You¡¯ll get it," Davonte said confidently. "Just takes practice. And maybe a few more matches to get the hang of it."


    The evening passed in a blur of conversation and camaraderie, the warmth of the common room a welcome contrast to the chill of the courtyard. By the time Soya climbed into bed, his body was pleasantly tired, and his mind was filled with the images of swirling currents, glowing orbs, and the rush of the game.

 Chapter 6: A Rune With A View

    The morning sunlight streamed through the enchanted windows of the Thylacea dormitory, casting soft, golden light over the stone walls. Soya stretched as he sat up in bed, the faint purring of his kitten at his feet reminding him of the calm start to a new week. Monday mornings felt different now¡ªless dreary and more... curious. There was always something new to learn in the magical world, and today promised more surprises.


    Davonte was already up, tying his robes as he grinned at Soya. "Ready for another round of magical mayhem?" he asked, tossing a piece of fruit to his ferret familiar.


    "Not really," Soya admitted, sliding out of bed. "But I¡¯ll manage."


    By the time the first-years gathered in the Great Hall for breakfast, the chatter was lively with talk of upcoming classes and lingering excitement from the Tideball match. Eliza was already plotting her day, her auburn curls bouncing as she rattled off a list of spells she wanted to practice in free time.


    "What¡¯s first today?" Soya asked, taking a bite of toast.


    "Elemental Magic," Eliza replied, her eyes lighting up. "It¡¯s supposed to be intense. We¡¯re going to start with basic fire spells."


    "Just try not to burn the classroom down," Davonte said, smirking as he poured himself some pumpkin juice.


    The Elemental Magic classroom was located in the eastern wing of the castle, a large, open space with high ceilings and walls lined with protective runes. The air felt charged, as if it hummed with dormant energy. At the front of the room stood Professor Enara Kalden, a tall woman with sharp features and a no-nonsense demeanor. Her robes were deep crimson, and her wand was tucked neatly into her belt.


    "Welcome to Elemental Magic," she began, her voice clear. "Magic is not just about control¡ªit¡¯s about understanding the forces of nature. Today, we¡¯ll begin with fire. Fire can be a tool, a weapon, or a source of light and warmth. Misuse it, and it can destroy everything in its path. Use it wisely, and it will serve you well."


    She waved her wand, and a series of small, enchanted flames appeared, hovering just above the desks. "Your first task is simple: extinguish these flames using the basic water charm, Aqua Depello. The incantation is short, but precision is key. Watch carefully."


    Professor Kalden raised her wand and flicked it in a precise motion. "Aqua Depello!" she called, and a jet of water shot from her wand, dousing the flame in front of her.


    "Now, your turn," she said, gesturing for the students to begin.


    Soya picked up his wand, his grip firm but his nerves jittery. He pointed it at the flame on his desk, imagining the stream of water he wanted to create. "Aqua Depello!" he said, his voice steady.


    A faint stream of water sputtered from his wand, but it wasn¡¯t enough to extinguish the flame. The fire flickered but remained defiantly alight.


    "Focus on the source," Professor Kalden advised, walking past his desk. "Water is everywhere¡ªin the air, in the ground. Call it forth, don¡¯t force it."


    Taking a deep breath, Soya tried again. This time, the water shot out in a clean arc, hitting the flame directly and snuffing it out. He exhaled in relief as Professor Kalden nodded approvingly.


    "Not bad for your first try," she said. "Keep practicing. Consistency is as important as power."


    Around him, other students were having mixed results. Eliza managed to douse her flame on the first attempt, grinning proudly, while Davonte accidentally sprayed himself with water, much to the amusement of their classmates.


    The lesson progressed to creating controlled sparks of fire with the spell Ignis Minor. Professor Kalden demonstrated, producing a small, steady flame that floated just above her palm. "The key here is restraint," she explained. "Too much power, and you¡¯ll scorch everything around you. Too little, and the spell won¡¯t activate."


    Soya found the fire spell harder to control. His first attempt produced a tiny flicker that vanished almost instantly. On his second try, the flame burst forth too strongly, earning a warning look from Professor Kalden.


    "Focus, Vareen," she said. "Control the flow of your magic, or it will control you."


    By the end of the lesson, Soya had managed to create a small, steady flame, though he still felt unsure about his ability to control it. The class ended with a stern reminder from Professor Kalden about the dangers of fire magic and the importance of continued practice.


    After the intensity of Elemental Magic, the students made their way to the outdoor paddocks for their next class: Magical Beasts. The anticipation was high as first-years whispered excitedly about what creatures they might encounter.


    When they arrived, however, they were met by a different professor¡ªa middle-aged man in simple robes who appeared more administrative than academic.


    "Apologies, students," he announced, holding up a hand to quiet the murmurs. "Professor Byrah has been called away on urgent business and won¡¯t be conducting today¡¯s lesson. You¡¯re free to use this time for independent study or other productive activities."


    A wave of disappointment rippled through the group, but the announcement didn¡¯t come as much of a surprise. Professor Byrah¡¯s role as the resident expert on magical creatures often took her outside the castle for important assignments.


    Davonte stretched his arms wide, grinning. "Finally, a break. I¡¯m hitting the common room¡ªmight see if anyone¡¯s up for a game of Wizard¡¯s Chess."


    Eliza smirked, clutching her notes from Elemental Magic. "Not me. I¡¯m heading to the practice rooms. Those fire spells aren¡¯t going to perfect themselves."


    Soya hesitated, then adjusted the strap of his satchel. "I think I¡¯ll check out the library. I wanted to find more books on magical creatures."


    "Classic Soya," Davonte teased with a laugh. "Burying himself in books. Have fun, mate."


    "Don¡¯t get lost in there," Eliza called as she turned toward the practice wing. "The library¡¯s massive."Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Soya gave them a small smile before heading off. The castle¡¯s library was located on the second floor, its tall, arched entrance flanked by stone statues of owls. The heavy wooden doors creaked softly as he pushed them open, revealing a vast hall filled with towering shelves, each packed with tomes of various sizes and colors.


    The air inside was cool and carried the faint scent of parchment and ink. A few students were scattered throughout the space, some hunched over desks piled with books, others browsing the shelves. The librarian, an elderly witch with keen eyes and a strict demeanor, gave Soya a nod as he entered.


    Soya made his way to the section labeled Magical Creatures and Beasts, his kitten padding silently at his heels. The shelves were filled with titles that ranged from detailed encyclopedias to personal accounts of magical encounters. He picked up a book titled The Habitats and Habits of Australian Magical Fauna and settled into a nearby chair.


    The illustrations in the book were vivid, each page showing creatures he¡¯d never seen before. There was a section on bunyips, with a drawing of their hulking forms lurking in swamps. Another page featured glimmering sprites called Glowfish, whose bioluminescence was used in various potions.


    As Soya read, he pulled out his sketchbook, feeling inspired to draw some of the creatures. His pencil moved quickly, capturing the sinewy body of a bunyip with exaggerated claws and sharp, glowing eyes. His kitten watched from the table, occasionally batting at the edge of the sketchbook.


    He flipped to another page in the book, this one showing a sleek, dragon-like creature called a Skyrunner. It was described as a rare species that hunted among mountain peaks and glided through clouds with effortless grace. As Soya sketched its curved wings and predatory stance, he felt the familiar pull of focus that often overtook him while drawing.


    His pencil seemed to take on a life of its own, and for a moment, the lines on the page appeared to shimmer faintly. He paused, staring at the image, but the effect was gone before he could fully process it.


    After a short while, Soya left the library and headed to the courtyard, where most of the first-years had gravitated to. The open space buzzed with life as students from various houses lounged, chatted, or caught up on assignments. The warmth of the sun and the light chatter created a calm yet lively atmosphere.


    Soya found a spot on a low stone bench near a group of older students practicing spells. His kitten leaped onto his lap, purring contentedly as he absentmindedly scratched its ears. Nearby, Davonte and Eliza debated the merits of skipping spell practice in favor of a quick trip to the kitchens for snacks.


    "Come on, Eliza," Davonte argued. "You can practice anytime. But fresh pastries? Those are limited."


    "You¡¯re incorrigible," Eliza replied with a laugh, rolling her eyes. "Fine. Let¡¯s find the kitchens. But Soya¡¯s coming too¡ªhe needs a proper introduction to house-elf cooking."


    "I¡¯m not that hungry," Soya said, shaking his head. "I think I¡¯ll stay here."


    Eliza looked at him curiously but didn¡¯t press the matter. "Suit yourself. We¡¯ll bring you back something if we can."


    As the pair left, Soya pulled out his sketchbook, flipping to a blank page. He considered sketching the dolphin sprite from Tideball practice again but decided instead to draw a thestral he¡¯d seen in a book. His pencil moved swiftly as he worked, the shadowy, skeletal creature taking form on the page.


    "You¡¯re quite good," a voice said, breaking Soya¡¯s concentration.


    Soya looked up to see a third-year Yarramundi student leaning against a nearby pillar, arms crossed. His sharp brown eyes flicked from Soya¡¯s drawing to the kitten in his lap. "That¡¯s a thestral, isn¡¯t it? Morbid choice."


    "It¡¯s interesting," Soya replied, unsure of how to interpret the older student¡¯s tone.


    The boy smirked. "Fair enough. I¡¯m Marcus, by the way. I¡¯ve seen you around¡ªSoya, right? The Muggle-born?"


    "Yeah," Soya said cautiously. "That¡¯s me."


    Marcus nodded, his expression unreadable. "You¡¯re braver than I thought, coming here. Not many like you make it this far. Watch your back, though. Not everyone wants you here."


    Before Soya could respond, Marcus pushed off the pillar and walked away, his robes trailing behind him. Soya frowned, unsure what to make of the exchange. His kitten mewed softly, grounding him in the present.


    The third class of the day took the first-years deep into the west wing of the castle, where the walls seemed to hum faintly with ancient energy. The Rune Studies classroom was quiet and solemn, with walls lined with stone tablets carved with glowing runes. Each rune seemed to pulse faintly, as though alive. At the front of the room, Professor Wirruna waited, her arms crossed and her expression calm but firm. Her intricate tattoos, resembling runes themselves, seemed to shimmer in the dim light of the room.


    "Good morning, students," she began. "I trust you¡¯ve all kept your assigned runes from the first day. They are not mere trinkets. Today, we will begin to understand the power and purpose of these ancient symbols."


    Soya retrieved the small, smooth tablet from his bag. The rune etched into its surface glowed faintly under his touch, a strange warmth emanating from it. He glanced around the room and saw his classmates doing the same, their expressions a mix of curiosity and unease.


    "Runes are not simply tools of magic," Professor Wirruna continued. "They are the language of the universe itself. Each rune carries a meaning, a power, and a connection to the world around us. The rune you hold was not chosen randomly. It resonates with your magical core."


    She gestured to the blackboard, where a large rune appeared, glowing faintly. "This is Fehu, a rune of abundance and prosperity. Its power can guide or hinder, depending on the intent of the caster. Runes are not cast lightly¡ªthey require understanding and respect."


    Wirruna walked among the students, observing their runes. When she reached Soya, she studied his rune carefully. "Ansuz," she said, her tone thoughtful. "A rune of communication and insight. It is often drawn to those who seek knowledge or carry a hidden gift. Have you felt anything unusual when holding it?"


    Soya hesitated, remembering the strange sensation he¡¯d felt when he first touched the tablet. "It feels... warm. And sometimes, I think it glows brighter when I¡¯m focused on something."


    Professor Wirruna nodded. "Pay attention to those sensations. The rune is reacting to your intent. Let us see if you can activate its power."


    She stepped back, gesturing for Soya to hold the tablet in one hand and his wand in the other. "The incantation is Runica Aperio. Focus on the meaning of the rune and channel your magic through it."


    Soya took a deep breath, holding the tablet steady. He focused on the rune¡¯s meaning¡ªcommunication, insight¡ªand raised his wand. "Runica Aperio!" he said clearly.


    The rune flared to life, its glow brightening until it was almost blinding. For a fleeting moment, the air around Soya seemed to ripple, and images from his imagination burst into existence. A vivid phoenix made of fire swept through the room, its wings blazing. A ship with sails billowing appeared, its form translucent but unmistakably real. Then came a parade of fantastical creatures, each one a figment of his mind brought to life. The images shimmered and moved as though alive, but within seconds, they dissolved into wisps of light and vanished.


    Gasps filled the room. The spectacle had been brief, but its intensity left everyone stunned. Soya staggered slightly, the tablet in his hand still warm and pulsing faintly.


    Professor Wirruna¡¯s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before her calm demeanor returned. "Fascinating," she murmured. "It seems your connection to Ansuz is... unique. That was no ordinary activation."


    Soya¡¯s cheeks flushed. "I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to¡ª"


    "There is nothing to apologize for," Wirruna interrupted, her tone sharp but not unkind. "What we witnessed was extraordinary. I have never seen a manifestation like that in my years of teaching. This..." She paused, her gaze intense. "This is worth studying further. For now, I advise caution."


    The rest of the lesson was spent exploring the meanings and uses of their assigned runes. Students practiced activating their runes and discussed their experiences with their classmates. By the end of the hour, Soya felt a deeper connection to the ancient symbol, though he knew there was still much to learn.


    The final class of the day brought the first-years to the top of a narrow spiral staircase, where the Divination classroom was housed in a circular tower room. The air was heavy with the scent of incense, and the light was dim, filtered through colorful drapes that hung over the windows. Crystal balls, tea sets, and stacks of tarot cards were arranged on small round tables, giving the room an otherworldly feel.


    Professor Selene Aster, a graceful woman with flowing robes and piercing gray eyes, greeted the students with a serene smile. "Welcome to Divination," she said, smiling fondly. "In this class, you will learn to interpret the threads of fate and uncover the mysteries of the future. But beware¡ªDivination is as much art as it is magic. It requires intuition, focus, and an open mind."


    She gestured for the students to take seats at the tables, each of which was equipped with a crystal ball. "Today, we will begin with scrying. The crystal ball is a window, but it does not reveal its secrets easily. You must attune yourself to the energies around you and let your mind wander."


    Soya sat with Davonte and Eliza, their crystal ball resting in the center of their table. Eliza immediately leaned forward, peering into the glass with exaggerated intensity. "I see... nothing," she said, grinning.


    Professor Aster approached their table, her expression patient. "Do not force it, Miss Gorman. Relax your mind and let the images come to you."


    Soya focused on the crystal ball, letting his thoughts drift. At first, the surface of the glass remained blank, but slowly, faint shapes began to form. He saw swirling patterns of light and shadow, which coalesced into the faint outline of a phoenix rising from flames. The image disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, leaving Soya wondering if he¡¯d imagined it.


    "Did anyone see anything?" Aster asked, her gaze sweeping the room.


    "I think I saw a phoenix," Soya said hesitantly.


    Aster¡¯s eyes lit up with interest. "A phoenix is a powerful symbol of rebirth and resilience. It may reflect something within you or a path you are destined to take. Very intriguing."


    The lesson continued with the students taking turns interpreting the vague shapes they saw in the crystal balls. Some claimed to see scenes of distant lands, while others saw nothing at all. By the end of the hour, most of the class was either fascinated or thoroughly confused by the experience.


    "What you did in there..." Davonte began, stepping beside Soya as they left the room, "was brilliant."


    Soya shrugged, his cheeks turning slightly pink. "It wasn¡¯t exactly planned."


    Davonte chuckled. "Planned or not, you¡¯ve got everyone talking. That was some next-level magic back there."


    As they reached the staircase, a classmate brushed past them, bumping into Soya with deliberate force. "If you didn¡¯t feel special with the attention you get for being a Muggle-born, you will definitely get more attention now," the boy sneered with a smirk. "Attention¡¯s not always a good thing."


    "Shove off, mate," Davonte snapped, stepping protectively in front of Soya and giving the other student a hard look. "Go find someone else to bother."


    The boy rolled his eyes. "Don''t worry, Evander," he quipped, giving Davonte a nasty look. "I have better things to do than waste my time on more words with you and your Muggle-born pet." He gave Soya a disgusted look and headed down the stairs away from them.


    "Who¡¯s that guy?" Soya asked, frowning after him.


    "Orin Thorn," Davonte replied, the name dripping with disdain. "He thinks he¡¯s the castle¡¯s gift to wizardkind. He¡¯s all bark and no bite."


    Soya gave a hesitant smile. "Thanks for standing up for me."


    Davonte grinned, his dark eyes lighting up with mischief. "Hey, I¡¯ve got your back. Someone¡¯s got to keep you out of trouble, right? Besides, I can¡¯t let my best material go to waste."


    "Best material?" Soya asked, raising an eyebrow.


    Davonte struck a theatrical pose, his hand over his chest. "Davonte Evander, noble protector of hapless first-years and unofficial king of sarcastic retorts. It¡¯s a full-time job."


    Soya laughed, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. "Well, your majesty, I¡¯m glad to be under your protection."


    "Good," Davonte said with a wink. "Now let¡¯s get moving before Orin decides to come back and bore us to death with his family tree. That¡¯ll really take the fun out of your big day."

 Chapter 7: A Warning

    Soya Vareen had been awake for a while. His calico kitten purred against his chest, its small frame rising and falling in sync with his breathing. There was a nervous excitement thrumming beneath his skin¡ªtoday promised something different. The news of a field trip to the Eucalyptic Grove had spread quickly the previous night, and even now, the idea of venturing beyond the castle grounds made him both anxious and intrigued.


    By the time he reached the Great Hall, it was already buzzing with energy. The chatter of students mingled with the soft clinking of silverware and the occasional screech of owls delivering mail. Soya spotted Davonte and Eliza at the Thylacea table, their plates already piled high.


    ¡°Morning, sleepyhead,¡± Eliza teased, scooting over to make room.


    ¡°Morning,¡± Soya mumbled, sliding into the seat. He reached for a piece of toast, the comforting scent of fresh bread and honey easing some of his nerves.


    ¡°Excited for the field trip?¡± Davonte asked, his silver eyes gleaming with mischief. ¡°Or are you still dreading the idea of running into a bunyip?¡±


    Soya frowned. ¡°I thought bunyips lived in swamps.¡±


    ¡°They do,¡± Eliza said, her voice muffled as she bit into a muffin. ¡°But who knows what we¡¯ll see out there? Professor Byrah is famous for leading the most exciting expeditions.¡±


    ¡°Exciting doesn¡¯t always mean safe,¡± Soya muttered, earning a laugh from Davonte.


    ¡°Relax,¡± Davonte said, giving him a wry smile. ¡°You¡¯ve got us. If anything tries to eat you, we¡¯ll be sure to pull you out of its mouth.¡±


    Before Soya could respond, a sharp tap echoed through the hall as Professor Byrah stepped forward, her green robes swirling around her boots. Her presence commanded attention, and the noise in the hall gradually died down.


    ¡°First-years,¡± she began, her voice clear and firm. ¡°Today, we will explore the Eucalyptic Grove, a magical woodland located a short distance from the castle. This area is home to a variety of magical creatures, some of which you¡¯ve likely read about in your textbooks. Others, you¡¯ll be encountering for the first time.¡±


    Byrah gestured to a crate beside her, filled with small, glowing spheres. ¡°These are locator orbs. If you get separated, activate one, and it will guide you back to the group or alert me of your location. Safety is our priority, so listen to instructions, stick with your partners, and respect the creatures and their habitat. Understood?¡±


    A murmur of agreement rippled through the group, and the first-years began pairing off. Soya found himself flanked by Davonte and Eliza, who were already brimming with enthusiasm.


    ¡°We¡¯re definitely seeing a Glowvine Boa,¡± Eliza whispered as they lined up to collect their locator orbs. ¡°I read they¡¯re drawn to enchanted eucalyptus leaves.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be happy if we don¡¯t see anything that bites,¡± Soya replied, gripping his satchel nervously.


    The journey began just beyond the castle gates, where the cobblestones gave way to a dirt path framed by towering eucalyptus trees. The trunks were smooth and pale, their leaves shimmering faintly with magical energy. The air was cooler here, carrying the earthy scent of damp soil and the occasional rustle of unseen creatures.


    ¡°Keep your eyes peeled,¡± Byrah called from the front of the group. ¡°The grove is alive with magic, and some creatures are very good at hiding.¡±


    Soya stuck close to Davonte and Eliza as the group moved deeper into the woods. The sunlight filtered through the canopy above, casting dappled patterns on the ground. Every now and then, a flash of movement in the underbrush would catch Soya¡¯s eye, but when he turned to look, there was nothing there.


    ¡°What do you think that was?¡± he whispered to Davonte.


    ¡°Probably a Pufftail Possum,¡± Davonte said with a shrug. ¡°They¡¯re harmless. Unless you¡¯re carrying a sandwich¡ªthen they¡¯ll steal it right out of your hands.¡±


    Eliza chuckled. ¡°Or maybe it¡¯s a Veil Hare. They¡¯re known to vanish the moment you spot them.¡±


    ¡°Or it could be a drop bear,¡± Davonte added with a grin, nudging Soya. ¡°Better watch your head.¡±


    ¡°Very funny,¡± Soya muttered, pulling his satchel tighter over his shoulder.


    The path gradually sloped downward, and the air grew cooler as the group approached a small stream that wound its way through the grove. Byrah stopped and turned to address the students, her sharp eyes scanning the group.


    ¡°This stream marks the edge of our observation zone,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯ll be looking for signs of magical activity¡ªtracks, nests, or anything unusual. Use your wands if necessary to document what you find, but remember: no direct interaction with the creatures unless I say so. Understood?¡±


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    The students nodded, and Byrah handed out enchanted quills and parchment for taking notes. ¡°Pair up and spread out, but stay within sight of the group. Let¡¯s see what you can discover.¡±


    Soya and his friends chose a spot near the stream, where the water sparkled with an almost ethereal glow. Eliza knelt beside a cluster of rocks, inspecting them closely. ¡°Look at this,¡± she said, pointing to a faint pattern etched into the stone. ¡°Runes. Probably left by a water sprite.¡±


    ¡°Or a student practicing spells,¡± Davonte said, leaning over her shoulder. ¡°Not everything¡¯s magical, you know.¡±


    Soya wandered a few steps away, his eyes scanning the underbrush. He spotted a trail of iridescent slime winding its way up a tree trunk and pointed it out. ¡°What do you think left that?¡±


    Eliza stood and followed his gaze. ¡°Glowvine Boa, maybe? Or a Rainbow Snail. Hard to tell without seeing it.¡±


    ¡°Either way, I¡¯m not touching it,¡± Davonte said, wrinkling his nose.


    As they continued their search, a sudden rustling in the bushes made them all freeze. Soya¡¯s hand instinctively went to his wand, his heart racing.


    ¡°Relax,¡± Eliza whispered. ¡°It¡¯s probably just a¡ª¡±


    Before she could finish, a small creature darted out of the underbrush. It was about the size of a rabbit, with sleek fur that shimmered like liquid gold and a pair of delicate wings folded against its back. The creature paused, its bright eyes locking onto the group.


    ¡°Is that... a Golden Fletchling?¡± Davonte whispered, his voice filled with awe.


    Byrah appeared beside them, her expression calm but alert. ¡°Well spotted,¡± she said quietly. ¡°Golden Fletchlings are rare, and they¡¯re incredibly skittish. Move slowly, and don¡¯t make any sudden noises.¡±


    The students held their breath as the Fletchling sniffed the air, its wings twitching slightly. For a moment, it seemed ready to take flight, but then it relaxed and began nibbling on a small flower growing at the base of a tree.


    ¡°Take note of its behavior,¡± Byrah instructed. ¡°Golden Fletchlings are indicators of a healthy magical ecosystem. Their presence here is a good sign.¡±


    Soya carefully jotted down notes, his hand trembling slightly as he sketched the creature in his notebook. Its delicate features and shimmering fur seemed almost unreal, like something out of a dream.


    When the Fletchling finally took flight, its wings glittering in the sunlight, the group let out a collective sigh of wonder. Byrah smiled faintly. ¡°Remember, moments like these are why we study magical creatures. They remind us of the beauty and fragility of our world.¡±


    Professor Byrah¡¯s voice carried over the quiet hum of the grove. ¡°Students, pair off or form small groups of three to four and explore further along the stream and surrounding area. Remember, stay within the observation zone, and if you encounter anything unusual, call for me immediately.¡±


    Soya, Davonte, and Eliza naturally stuck together as they moved deeper into the grove. The cool shade of the eucalyptus trees grew denser, and the air carried a faint earthy scent mixed with the faint tang of magic. Their locator orbs hung at their waists, glowing faintly as a reminder of their connection to the main group.


    ¡°This is a lot better than sitting in a classroom,¡± Davonte said, stepping over a gnarled root. ¡°Not that I¡¯m complaining about Elemental Magic, but I¡¯d take fresh air over dodging fireballs any day.¡±


    ¡°Fresh air and potential danger,¡± Eliza reminded him, keeping her wand at the ready. ¡°Let¡¯s not forget the professor¡¯s warning about staying alert.¡±


    Soya was already scanning the ground, taking careful note of every odd detail. His sketchbook was tucked under his arm, ready for quick notes or drawings. As they rounded a bend in the stream, he stopped short, his gaze fixed on something half-hidden under a fallen log.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± he asked, pointing to a long, faintly gleaming strip of material.


    Eliza crouched beside it, her brow furrowing. She reached out carefully, using the tip of her wand to lift the edge of the object. It was translucent and slightly iridescent, its surface patterned with faint ridges.


    ¡°It¡¯s skin,¡± she said quietly, her tone suddenly serious. ¡°Shed skin. From a magical creature.¡±


    Davonte leaned closer, his face a mix of curiosity and unease. ¡°What kind of creature sheds something like that? It looks massive.¡±


    Eliza turned the skin over, examining it more closely. Her face paled slightly. ¡°This... this is basilisk skin.¡±


    Soya blinked, confused. ¡°A basilisk? Aren¡¯t those... really dangerous?¡±


    ¡°Extremely,¡± Eliza replied, her voice low. ¡°And they don¡¯t live anywhere near here. Basilisks are desert creatures¡ªthey thrive in the arid regions of Australia, not lush groves like this.¡±


    Davonte straightened, his usual levity gone. ¡°So what¡¯s one doing here? Or at least, what was it doing here?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a very good question,¡± Eliza murmured, folding the piece of skin carefully and tucking it into her satchel. ¡°We need to show this to Professor Byrah.¡±


    Soya glanced around nervously, the shadows under the trees suddenly seeming darker. ¡°You don¡¯t think it¡¯s still around, do you?¡±


    ¡°Doubtful,¡± Eliza said, though her grip on her wand tightened. ¡°But if it were, we wouldn''t. Basilisks hide underground and are subtle ambush hunters. Still, let¡¯s keep moving. If it were still here, we would be no match for it.¡±


    The group continued their search, their earlier excitement replaced by a sense of unease. The grove, once vibrant and alive, now felt oddly quiet, as though the creatures that usually inhabited it were keeping their distance.


    They eventually made their way back to the stream, where they spotted Professor Byrah speaking with another group of students. Eliza quickened her pace, her expression determined. ¡°Professor!¡± she called, holding up her satchel.


    Byrah turned, her keen eyes narrowing as she saw the students approaching. ¡°What is it?¡± she asked, her tone calm but sharp.


    Eliza opened her satchel and carefully pulled out the folded piece of skin. ¡°We found this under a log near the edge of the observation zone. It¡¯s basilisk skin.¡±


    Byrah¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, but her eyes flickered with something¡ªconcern, perhaps, or calculation. She took the skin from Eliza, handling it with a care that betrayed its significance.


    ¡°Fascinating,¡± she said, lifting it to the light. "But also troublesome. The ridges and the iridescence are unmistakable. But basilisks aren¡¯t supposed to be in this region.¡±


    She folded the skin carefully and placed it into her own satchel. ¡°Thank you for bringing this to me. You did the right thing. I¡¯ll look into this further, but for now, I want you all to stay focused on your exploration. And remember¡ªif you see anything else unusual, report it immediately.¡±


    The group nodded, though Soya couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that something wasn¡¯t right. As they walked away, he glanced back at Byrah, who was speaking quietly to another professor who had joined her. Their expressions were serious, their gestures subtle but tense.


    As they regrouped with the other students, Davonte leaned closer to Soya, his voice low. ¡°You noticed how she reacted, right? She wasn¡¯t surprised. Not really.¡±


    Soya frowned. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I mean she already knew something was off,¡± Davonte said. ¡°Maybe not about the basilisk specifically, but something.¡±


    Eliza, who had been quiet since handing over the skin, finally spoke. ¡°Whatever it is, it¡¯s not our job to figure out. The professors will handle it.¡±


    ¡°But what if they don¡¯t?¡± Davonte countered. ¡°I mean, what if¡ª¡±


    ¡°Drop it, Davonte,¡± Eliza said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. ¡°This isn¡¯t a game. If something dangerous is out there, we need to trust the professors to deal with it. It¡¯s not our place.¡±


    Soya stayed quiet, though his mind was racing. The day had started with excitement, but now it was clouded by uncertainty. The basilisk skin wasn¡¯t just a mystery¡ªit was a warning. And though Eliza was right about leaving it to the professors, he couldn¡¯t help but wonder what it all meant.

 Chapter 8: Danger Noodle

    The discovery of the basilisk skin lingered heavily in Soya''s thoughts as the class regrouped by the stream. Even as Professor Byrah led them further into the grove, her calm instructions and reassuring demeanor couldn''t entirely dispel the unease he felt. There was something about the way she and the other professors had exchanged glances¡ªa silent understanding that suggested more than they were letting on.


    The students resumed their exploration in smaller groups, and Soya found himself walking beside Eliza and Davonte again. The excitement that had charged their earlier search was replaced with a cautious tension, and the lively chatter of the class seemed muted.


    Professor Byrah stopped the group near a wide, shaded clearing where the stream widened into a deep pool. The water shimmered with faint, magical light, and soft murmurs of interest rippled through the students as they took in the sight.


    ¡°This,¡± Byrah said, gesturing to the pool, ¡°is the heart of the Eucalyptic Grove. It is said that the pool¡¯s magic reflects the health of the surrounding ecosystem. If you look closely, you might even catch glimpses of the creatures that inhabit the grove.¡±


    Several students leaned forward, their eyes scanning the water¡¯s surface. Soya squinted, but all he could see were faint ripples and flashes of light that might have been reflections.


    ¡°I¡¯d like you all to take a few moments to observe and document what you see,¡± Byrah continued. ¡°Pay attention to any unusual patterns or behaviors. Remember, this is about understanding, not interference.¡±


    The students dispersed, settling into small clusters along the edge of the pool. Soya, Eliza, and Davonte found a spot near the base of a gnarled eucalyptus tree. Eliza immediately began sketching the pool in her notebook, her strokes quick and confident. Davonte leaned back on his hands, his gaze fixed on the water.


    ¡°Do you think the basilisk skin means there¡¯s a basilisk nearby?¡± Soya asked quietly, still turning the discovery over in his mind.


    Eliza shook her head. ¡°Unlikely. Basilisks are territorial, but they wouldn¡¯t leave a shed skin in an area like this. If one had been here, we¡¯d see signs of destruction¡ªor worse.¡±


    ¡°Still weird, though,¡± Davonte added. ¡°What would a desert creature be doing all the way out here?¡±


    Eliza didn¡¯t respond, her attention focused on her sketch. Soya glanced around the clearing, his eyes landing on Sevrin and Sage, who were standing a little apart from the others. They appeared to be deep in conversation, their expressions unusually serious. Sage gestured toward the pool, his dark eyes narrowing as Sevrin nodded.


    ¡°They¡¯re up to something,¡± Davonte muttered, following Soya¡¯s gaze. ¡°Those two never look that serious unless they¡¯re planning trouble.¡±


    Soya frowned but said nothing. He didn¡¯t want to draw attention to himself, especially not from Sevrin. Instead, he turned his focus back to the pool, where a faint ripple caught his eye. A shape moved just beneath the surface, sleek and quick, but it was gone before he could get a good look.


    ¡°Did you see that?¡± he asked, leaning forward.


    ¡°See what?¡± Eliza replied, glancing up from her notebook.


    ¡°There was something in the water,¡± Soya said, pointing. ¡°It looked... big.¡±


    Eliza peered into the pool, her brow furrowing. ¡°Probably a Glowvine Boa. They like water.¡±


    Before Soya could respond, Professor Byrah¡¯s voice cut through the clearing. ¡°Students, gather round. I¡¯d like to demonstrate a technique for identifying magical energy signatures.¡±


    The class regrouped near the pool, and Byrah produced a small, enchanted device that resembled a crystal compass. She held it over the water, and the needle spun wildly before settling on a faint blue glow near the center of the pool.


    ¡°This device picks up traces of magical energy,¡± Byrah explained. ¡°The color and intensity of the glow can tell us a lot about the nature of the magic present. Blue indicates a natural, harmonious energy¡ªexactly what we¡¯d expect in a healthy ecosystem.¡±


    As Byrah continued her demonstration, Soya couldn¡¯t help but notice Sevrin and Sage whispering to each other again. Their expressions were unreadable, but there was something about the way they stood slightly apart from the group that set him on edge.


    ¡°Do you think they¡¯re planning something?¡± he whispered to Davonte.


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t surprise me,¡± Davonte replied, his tone low. ¡°Those two are always looking for ways to stir things up.¡±


    The serene atmosphere of the clearing shattered in an instant.


    The water of the pool rippled violently as if something massive moved beneath the surface. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the students, and several stepped back instinctively. Soya¡¯s heart raced as he felt the ground beneath him vibrate slightly.


    "Stay calm!" Professor Byrah¡¯s voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding. Her wand was already in her hand, pointed toward the disturbance. "Do not run. Stay close to each other and move behind me."


    The water erupted in a spray of shimmering droplets as a massive, sinuous form rose from the pool. It was easily the size of a small tree, its scales glinting with an unnatural iridescence in the sunlight. Its head, crowned with sharp, ridged spines, swayed menacingly as its yellow eyes locked onto the group.


    A basilisk.


    Soya froze, his breath catching in his throat. The creature¡¯s presence was suffocating, its sheer size and power radiating danger. Several students whimpered, clutching their locator orbs as if they could shield them from the beast.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Professor Byrah didn¡¯t flinch. With a fluid motion, she cast a protective ward, a shimmering dome of light that enveloped the students. "Everyone, stay inside the barrier!" she ordered, her voice steady. "Do not make any sudden movements."


    The basilisk hissed, the sound like steam escaping a kettle, and began to circle the pool. Its eyes scanned the group, but the ward seemed to deter it from advancing further. Byrah stood at the edge of the barrier, her wand raised, her expression unwavering.


    Another professor, a wiry man with salt-and-pepper hair, emerged from the woods, his own wand drawn. "Byrah, what in Merlin¡¯s name¡ª?"


    "Basilisk," she replied curtly, never taking her eyes off the creature. "Take the students back to the castle. Now."


    The man nodded, his expression grim. "Understood. Students, with me!"


    The group moved as quickly as they could, herded by the professor¡¯s sharp instructions. Soya found himself pushed along with the others, his heart pounding as he glanced back at Byrah. She remained behind, her stance firm as the basilisk tested the edge of her ward.


    ¡°Keep moving!¡± the other professor barked, ushering them toward the path leading out of the grove.


    The tension in the air was palpable as the students hurried away from the clearing. Soya stayed near the back of the group, his mind racing. The sight of the basilisk was burned into his memory, its gleaming scales and piercing eyes a reminder of how close they¡¯d come to disaster.


    As they reached the safety of the forest path, Soya¡¯s gaze swept over the group of students. Davonte and Eliza were just ahead of him, their faces pale but composed. Most of the others were accounted for as well, their locator orbs glowing faintly in the dim light of the grove.


    But something was wrong.


    Soya¡¯s stomach twisted as he realized two students were missing¡ªSevrin and Sage. He glanced around, his heart sinking as the realization solidified. The two had been acting strangely all day, and now they were nowhere to be seen.


    He opened his mouth to say something but hesitated. If he spoke up now, it would draw attention¡ªnot just to their absence, but possibly to himself as well. And something about the way Sevrin and Sage had been acting made him wary of involving himself further.


    Instead, he clenched his jaw and followed the group in silence, his mind churning with questions. Where had they gone? Why hadn¡¯t they been with the rest of the class? And, most unsettling of all, what could they possibly want with a basilisk?


    The group of students arrived back at the castle, the looming stone walls providing a sense of safety that felt almost tangible after the chaos in the grove. The wiry professor who had escorted them back gestured for them to remain in the entry hall while he spoke quietly with another teacher, his voice low and urgent. The students huddled together, their earlier chatter replaced by whispers and uneasy glances.


    ¡°Do you think Professor Byrah¡¯s okay?¡± Davonte asked, breaking the silence.


    ¡°She¡¯s the best in the field,¡± Eliza replied, though her tone carried a hint of uncertainty. ¡°If anyone can handle a basilisk, it¡¯s her.¡±


    Soya nodded absently, his thoughts elsewhere. The absence of Sevrin and Sage gnawed at him, but he kept quiet, unsure of how to bring it up¡ªor if he even should. The weight of the day pressed heavily on his shoulders, and the prospect of another class felt almost surreal.


    The wiry professor returned, his expression grim but composed. ¡°Listen up,¡± he said, addressing the group. ¡°You all will be going directly to your next class¡ªDefence Against the Dark Arts. Professor Marilla is expecting you. She¡¯s already been informed of what happened, and she¡¯ll provide further guidance. No detours, understood?¡±


    The students nodded, and with a wave of his hand, the professor dismissed them. Soya, Davonte, and Eliza fell into step together as they made their way to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.


    The classroom was as imposing as ever, its high stone walls adorned with shelves of ancient tomes and artifacts. Professor Elise Marilla stood at the front, her sharp eyes scanning the group as they entered. She wore her usual dark green robes, her wand holstered at her side. A faint scar on her cheek caught the light as she moved, a testament to her experience in the field.


    ¡°Take your seats,¡± she said curtly, her tone leaving no room for argument.


    The students shuffled into their chairs, the tension in the room palpable. Once everyone was settled, Marilla stepped forward, her hands clasped behind her back.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been informed of the incident in the grove,¡± she began, her voice calm but commanding. ¡°You were fortunate to have Professor Byrah there to protect you. Let this be a reminder that the magical world is not without its dangers.¡±


    Her gaze swept over the students, lingering briefly on Soya, who sat near the middle of the room. ¡°Today¡¯s lesson will focus on counter-curses¡ªan essential skill for any witch or wizard. You¡¯ve already learned the basics of Finite Incantatem, but now we¡¯ll take it a step further.¡±


    She turned to the blackboard, where the word Revoco Maleficium appeared in elegant script. ¡°This incantation is used to counteract specific curses. Unlike Finite Incantatem, which works broadly, Revoco Maleficium requires precision. You must identify the curse and channel your magic directly into the counter-spell.¡±


    Marilla waved her wand, and a target dummy appeared at the front of the room. With a flick of her wrist, she cast a curse, muttering, ¡°Petrificus Collapsus.¡± The dummy stiffened before crumpling to the floor, its limbs locked in an unnatural position.


    ¡°Observe,¡± she said, raising her wand. ¡°Revoco Maleficium!¡± A shimmering light enveloped the dummy, and it returned to its upright position, the curse lifted.


    ¡°Now it¡¯s your turn,¡± Marilla continued, her gaze sharp. ¡°Pair up and practice. One of you will cast a curse on the dummy, and the other will counter it. Remember to clear and precise with your words and wand movements. I¡¯ll be observing.¡±


    Soya found himself paired with Davonte, who grinned despite the seriousness of the task. ¡°Ready to curse a dummy?¡± Davonte asked, his silver eyes gleaming with mischief.


    ¡°Let¡¯s just not mess it up,¡± Soya replied, gripping his wand.


    Davonte raised his wand and cast the same curse Marilla had demonstrated. ¡°Petrificus Collapsus!¡± The dummy stiffened and fell, its wooden limbs locked in place.


    Soya took a deep breath, focusing on the counter-spell. He raised his wand, his voice steady. ¡°Revoco Maleficium!¡± A faint glow surrounded the dummy, and after a moment, it returned to its original state.


    ¡°Not bad,¡± Davonte said with a grin. ¡°Your turn to curse it now.¡±


    Soya hesitated but nodded, raising his wand. ¡°Petrificus Collapsus!¡± The dummy collapsed once more, its limbs rigid.


    Davonte stepped forward, his wand at the ready. ¡°Revoco Maleficium!¡± he said confidently. The dummy shimmered and straightened, though it wobbled slightly before stabilizing.


    ¡°Focus on your intent,¡± Marilla said as she passed by their station. ¡°The spell responds to precision and clarity of thought. Sloppy casting will yield sloppy results.¡±


    The pairs continued practicing, the room filled with the sound of incantations and the faint hum of magic. Soya grew more confident with each attempt, his movements more fluid and his voice steadier.


    Toward the end of the lesson, Marilla called for the class¡¯s attention. ¡°You¡¯ve made good progress,¡± she said. ¡°But remember, counter-curses are only one tool in your arsenal. The best defense is always vigilance. Class dismissed.¡±


    As the students gathered their things and filed out of the room, Soya couldn¡¯t shake the lingering unease from earlier.


    The golden light of the setting sun streamed through the high windows as the first-years made their way toward the Great Hall. The hum of conversation and the clatter of cutlery drifted out into the corridor, growing louder as Soya, Davonte, and Eliza pushed open the large double doors and stepped inside.


    The house tables were already bustling with activity. Students laughed and talked, their plates piled high with an array of roasted meats, vegetables, and steaming bowls of soup. The enchanted ceiling mirrored the fading daylight, casting the hall in warm hues of orange and pink.


    Soya followed Davonte and Eliza to the Thylacea table, his gaze briefly flicking to the Yarramundi table where Sevrin and Sage sat, surrounded by their usual crowd. Sevrin appeared relaxed, casually leaning back in his seat as he spoke, but Sage¡¯s posture was unusually stiff, his focus entirely on the plate before him. Whatever had happened during the field trip, they showed no outward sign of distress, but something about their demeanor felt off.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look at them,¡± Eliza said quietly, nudging Soya. ¡°They¡¯re not worth your attention.¡±


    Soya nodded and took his seat between Davonte and a boy he didn¡¯t recognize. The boy had dark, curly hair and a perpetually curious expression, his Thylacea badge gleaming on his robes. Across the table sat a girl with a sharp, angular face and neatly braided blonde hair.


    ¡°New faces?¡± the boy beside Soya asked, glancing between him and Eliza. ¡°I¡¯m Matteo. Third year. Haven¡¯t seen you lot at the table before¡ªfirst years, I take it?¡±


    ¡°That obvious, huh?¡± Davonte said with a grin, reaching for a bowl of mashed potatoes. ¡°I¡¯m Davonte, this is Soya, and that¡¯s Eliza.¡±


    ¡°Nice to meet you,¡± Matteo said, his tone warm. ¡°What¡¯s got you all looking so serious? First-day jitters?¡±


    ¡°Field trip drama,¡± Eliza replied vaguely, her gaze darting briefly toward the Yarramundi table. ¡°Let¡¯s just say it wasn¡¯t exactly a relaxing stroll through the woods.¡±


    The blonde girl across the table raised an eyebrow. ¡°Field trip? You mean the grove? Heard something about that in the corridors¡ªbasilisks, wasn¡¯t it?¡±


    Soya blinked, startled. ¡°How¡¯d you hear about that already?¡±


    The girl smirked. ¡°Rumors travel fast around here. Especially when they involve something that deadly.¡± She leaned forward, her pale blue eyes sharp. ¡°Name¡¯s Aria, by the way. Second year. What¡¯s it like seeing a basilisk up close?¡±


    ¡°We didn''t get a good look at it,¡± Soya admitted, glancing nervously at his plate. ¡°The professors handled it before it got too close.¡±


    ¡°Still,¡± Matteo said, his expression thoughtful. ¡°A basilisk in the grove? That¡¯s not normal. Those things shouldn¡¯t be anywhere near this region.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, we figured that out,¡± Davonte muttered, spearing a piece of roast chicken with his fork. ¡°And trust me, it wasn¡¯t exactly comforting.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like you¡¯ve had an eventful day,¡± Aria said, her tone carrying a hint of admiration. ¡°Most first-years don¡¯t have to deal with stuff like that this early on.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re lucky like that,¡± Eliza quipped, though her smile didn¡¯t quite reach her eyes.


    The conversation shifted as the students began discussing classes and upcoming assignments. Matteo shared a story about a prank involving a levitation charm gone wrong, earning a round of laughter from the group. Aria mentioned her plans to join the Tideball team next season, her competitive streak evident as she talked about training with the upper years.


    Soya found himself relaxing as the chatter continued, the warmth of the meal and the camaraderie at the table easing some of the tension from the day. His kitten, perched on the bench beside him, purred contentedly as it batted at a stray piece of bread crust.


    Toward the end of the meal, Matteo leaned closer to Soya. ¡°You know,¡± he said, his voice low enough to avoid being overheard, ¡°if you¡¯re ever curious about spells or dueling techniques, let me know. I¡¯m always up for teaching a thing or two.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Soya replied, surprised by the offer. ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind.¡±


    As dessert appeared on the table¡ªan assortment of pies, cakes, and puddings¡ªSoya¡¯s gaze drifted back to the Yarramundi table. Sevrin and Sage were still there, their expressions unreadable. Whatever they were up to, it was clear they had no intention of letting anyone in on their plans.

 Chapter 9: Research

    The library at Austramore was a place of quiet grandeur. Towering shelves filled with ancient tomes and scrolls stretched toward a vaulted ceiling enchanted to resemble a starlit sky. Lanterns floated gently between the rows, casting a warm, golden glow that made the space feel both vast and intimate. For Soya, the library had always been a refuge, but tonight it felt like a battlefield where he was about to confront the unknown.


    Eliza led the way, her steps purposeful as they approached the librarian''s desk. Madam Lorelei, a stern woman with silvery hair and sharp features, looked up from her parchment as they arrived.


    ¡°Good evening, Madam Lorelei,¡± Eliza began politely. ¡°We¡¯re looking for books on magical creatures, specifically basilisks.¡±


    Lorelei¡¯s pale eyes narrowed slightly. ¡°A peculiar topic for first-years. The Whispering Archives contains the most comprehensive texts on basilisks, but I assume you¡¯re not looking to break rules?¡±


    Eliza shook her head quickly. ¡°Of course not, ma¡¯am. We¡¯re just trying to learn more after today¡¯s... field trip.¡±


    The librarian¡¯s expression softened slightly, though her tone remained brisk. ¡°Section M, third row. You¡¯ll find some general resources there. And remember, no loud conversations.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Eliza said, already steering the boys toward the indicated section.


    As they weaved between the towering shelves, Davonte leaned closer to Soya and whispered, ¡°You think she knows something? She had that look¡ªlike she wasn¡¯t surprised at all.¡±


    Soya shrugged, his mind too preoccupied with the basilisk skin and the events in the grove to speculate on the librarian¡¯s reactions. When they reached Section M, the three of them set to work, each selecting a few promising titles to bring back to a nearby table.


    ¡°Magical Predators of the Southern Hemisphere,¡± Eliza announced, setting down a thick, leather-bound volume. ¡°This one should have something useful.¡±


    Soya picked up a smaller book titled Terrifying Terrors: A Beginner''s Guide to Deadly Creatures. He flipped through the pages, scanning for any mention of basilisks.


    Davonte, meanwhile, had chosen a book called Beasts of Legend and Lore. ¡°This one¡¯s got everything from manticores to drop bears,¡± he said, grinning slightly. ¡°I¡¯ll start with the B section.¡±


    The three worked in companionable silence for a time, the quiet rustle of turning pages and the faint hum of magical lanterns the only sounds. Soya felt a small thrill of accomplishment when he finally found a detailed entry on basilisks in his book. He skimmed the text, his finger tracing the lines as he read aloud.


    ¡°Basilisks are serpent-like creatures known for their deadly gaze, which can petrify or kill with a single look. Their venom is highly toxic, and they are considered among the most dangerous magical creatures. They typically inhabit arid regions and are rarely encountered outside their natural desert habitats.¡±


    ¡°Nothing we don¡¯t already know,¡± Davonte said, frowning. ¡°But why would one be in the grove?¡±


    Eliza tapped her quill against her notebook thoughtfully. ¡°That¡¯s the real question, isn¡¯t it? Basilisks don¡¯t migrate like birds. They¡¯re territorial and usually don¡¯t leave their burrows unless...¡±


    ¡°Unless what?¡± Soya prompted.


    ¡°Unless they¡¯re forced to,¡± Eliza finished, her tone uneasy. ¡°Or unless someone brought it here.¡±


    Davonte snorted. ¡°Who in their right mind would bring a basilisk to the grove? That¡¯s like inviting disaster.¡±


    Soya shivered, the idea sending a chill down his spine. He flipped to the next page, where a small illustration of a basilisk curled around a pile of bones caught his eye. Beneath it was a section on basilisk behavior and reproduction.


    ¡°They don¡¯t just roam around, though,¡± he said. ¡°It says here that basilisks need specific conditions to thrive¡ªlike arid climates and access to underground burrows. The grove isn¡¯t exactly ideal for them.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Eliza agreed. ¡°Which means this isn¡¯t just a random occurrence. Something¡ªor someone¡ªmade this happen.¡±


    The weight of her words hung in the air, and Soya felt the knot of unease in his chest tighten. He looked up from his book, his gaze drifting toward the far end of the library. In the dim light, the shelves seemed to stretch endlessly, their shadows deep and impenetrable.


    ¡°Do you think we should tell someone?¡± he asked hesitantly. ¡°The professors, maybe?¡±


    Eliza shook her head. ¡°Not yet. We don¡¯t have enough information to go on. And besides, they probably already know more than they¡¯re letting on. If they wanted us involved, they¡¯d tell us.¡±


    Davonte leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. ¡°So what do we do? Just sit here and wait for another basilisk to show up?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Eliza said firmly. ¡°We keep looking. There has to be more¡ªsomething we¡¯re missing.¡±


    Soya nodded, though his heart wasn¡¯t in it. The weight of the day¡¯s events was pressing down on him, and the flickering lanterns above seemed to cast more shadows than light. Still, he picked up another book, determined to contribute.


    As they continued their search, a faint rustling sound caught Soya¡¯s attention. He glanced up, his gaze drawn toward the farthest corner of the library. For a moment, he thought he saw movement¡ªa flicker of something dark and swift¡ªbut when he blinked, it was gone.


    ¡°Did you see that?¡± he whispered, his voice barely audible.


    ¡°See what?¡± Eliza asked, not looking up from her book.


    Soya hesitated. ¡°Nothing. Probably just my imagination.¡±


    Davonte gave him a sidelong glance. ¡°You¡¯re not going to start seeing basilisks in every shadow, are you?¡±


    Soya managed a weak smile, but his unease remained. He turned his attention back to the book in front of him, forcing himself to focus on the neatly printed text. Yet, the feeling of being watched lingered, prickling at the edges of his awareness.


    Soya flipped through yet another book, his focus wavering as the repetitive descriptions of basilisk anatomy and habitats blurred together. He sighed, glancing at Eliza, who was engrossed in her notes. Davonte was leaning back in his chair, twirling his wand idly as he skimmed through a section on venomous creatures.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°This feels like looking for a needle in a haystack,¡± Soya muttered, closing the book with a soft thud. ¡°We¡¯re not finding anything new.¡±


    Eliza frowned, her quill hovering over her notebook. ¡°Maybe we¡¯re looking in the wrong place. If the professors already know about the basilisk, there might be something in the library they don¡¯t want students finding easily.¡±


    Davonte raised an eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯re suggesting we check the Whispering Archives? Pretty sure Madam Lorelei would love to catch us sneaking in there.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Eliza said quickly. ¡°Not that''s the restricted section. But there might be overlooked books in the older sections of the library. Places even the professors don¡¯t visit often.¡±


    Soya hesitated. ¡°Do you think we¡¯d actually find anything useful?¡±


    Eliza shrugged, already standing and gathering her notes. ¡°Only one way to find out.¡±


    The trio ventured deeper into the library, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpet lining the aisles. The air grew cooler, and the glow of the lanterns dimmed slightly as they moved away from the main reading area. Here, the shelves were older, their wood dark and polished to a faint sheen. Dust motes danced in the faint light, and the scent of aged parchment was more pronounced.


    ¡°This place feels... different,¡± Davonte said, his voice low as they stopped near a crooked shelf labeled Obscure Studies.


    Eliza scanned the spines of the books, her fingers brushing over faded titles. She paused, her brow furrowing as she pulled a worn, leather-bound volume from the shelf. The title, stamped in gold lettering, read The Enigmatic Ecology of Basilisks and Other Magical Serpents.


    ¡°Found something,¡± she announced, setting the book on a nearby table. The cover was cracked with age, and the pages inside were yellowed but intact. Eliza flipped through the contents, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the text.


    Soya leaned closer, catching sight of a name written in elegant script on the title page: Authored by Professor Lenara Byrah.


    ¡°This was written by Professor Byrah?¡± he asked, his voice tinged with surprise.


    Eliza nodded, her expression thoughtful. ¡°Makes sense. She¡¯s an expert on magical creatures. This could have everything we need to know.¡±


    ¡°Or it could be one of those dry academic texts that¡¯s impossible to read,¡± Davonte quipped, leaning over to peer at the pages.


    Eliza ignored him and began flipping through the chapters, her movements growing more frantic as she progressed. ¡°Wait... something¡¯s wrong.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡± Soya asked, his stomach sinking.


    ¡°The pages,¡± Eliza said, holding up the book. ¡°They¡¯re missing. Whole sections have been torn out.¡±


    Soya took the book, his fingers brushing over the ragged edges where pages had clearly been removed. The gaps were irregular, with several chapters missing entirely. One of the chapters, titled Basilisk Behavior in Unnatural Habitats, was almost completely gone, save for a few fragments near the beginning.


    ¡°Someone didn¡¯t want anyone reading this,¡± Davonte said grimly. ¡°But why? It¡¯s just a book about basilisks, right?¡±


    ¡°Not just any book,¡± Eliza corrected, her tone sharp. ¡°This is written by Professor Byrah. She¡¯s one of the leading experts on magical creatures. Whatever was in here might explain why a basilisk ended up in the grove.¡±


    Soya¡¯s mind raced as he stared at the missing pages. The implications were unsettling. Someone had deliberately removed this information¡ªpossibly to hide something important.


    ¡°Do you think she knows?¡± he asked. ¡°Professor Byrah, I mean. Do you think she knows her book is damaged?¡±


    Eliza hesitated. ¡°I don¡¯t know. But if she does, she¡¯s not telling anyone.¡±


    Davonte crossed his arms, his expression serious for once. ¡°This is bigger than we thought, isn¡¯t it? Whoever tore out these pages doesn¡¯t want people asking questions.¡±


    Soya nodded, a chill running down his spine. ¡°So what do we do now?¡±


    Eliza closed the book carefully, her eyes alight with determination. ¡°We keep looking. If the answers aren¡¯t here, we¡¯ll find them somewhere else. But we need to be careful. If someone¡¯s trying to hide something, they won¡¯t take kindly to us digging around.¡±


    The trio fell silent, the weight of their discovery settling over them. Soya glanced at the book one last time before they returned it to the shelf, its missing pages a stark reminder of how much they still didn¡¯t know.


    The library¡¯s quiet atmosphere was broken only by the soft rustle of pages and the occasional creak of a chair. Soya, Eliza, and Davonte sat huddled at their table, their earlier discovery weighing heavily on their minds. Despite the calm surroundings, an undercurrent of tension kept their voices low.


    ¡°We can¡¯t just leave it like this,¡± Eliza whispered, her fingers tapping anxiously on her notebook. ¡°Missing pages? Basilisks in the grove? It¡¯s all connected, and we¡¯re in the middle of it.¡±


    ¡°And what do you suggest?¡± Davonte asked, his tone laced with skepticism. ¡°March up to Professor Byrah and demand answers? She¡¯d probably tell us to stick to our textbooks and leave the adults to handle it.¡±


    Soya frowned, his gaze flicking toward the dimly lit aisle where they¡¯d found Byrah¡¯s book. ¡°What if we¡¯re not the only ones asking questions? Someone went through a lot of trouble to keep those pages hidden. Maybe they¡¯re watching her too.¡±


    Eliza nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. ¡°If that¡¯s true, then we need to be careful. We don¡¯t want to draw attention to ourselves.¡±


    Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Instinctively, they fell silent, their eyes darting toward the source of the noise. Two figures emerged from the shadows, their voices low but distinct as they moved deeper into the library.


    Soya¡¯s heart skipped a beat as he recognized Professor Byrah¡¯s sharp tone. She was accompanied by another professor¡ªa tall man with a thin frame and a stern expression. The pair stopped near a bookshelf just out of sight, their words muffled but still audible in the stillness of the library.


    ¡°I¡¯m telling you, this is the thirtieth incident,¡± Byrah said, her voice tight with frustration. ¡°Thirty basilisks in regions they have no business being in. And that¡¯s only the ones we know about.¡±


    The other professor¡¯s response was quieter, but his tone carried a note of urgency. ¡°The patterns are troubling, yes. But without more evidence, we can¡¯t jump to conclusions. It could still be a series of isolated anomalies.¡±


    Byrah scoffed. ¡°Isolated? When they¡¯ve all appeared in areas with no natural connection to their habitats? The deserts, the marshes, even the coast¡ªnone of it makes sense. Someone or something is moving them.¡±


    ¡°Careful, Lenara,¡± the man cautioned, his voice dropping even lower. ¡°You¡¯re treading dangerously close to accusations. If you¡¯re wrong¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not wrong,¡± Byrah interrupted, her voice fierce. ¡°You saw the signs yourself. The skin in the grove wasn¡¯t just a random molt. That basilisk was placed there.¡±


    Soya¡¯s breath caught in his throat, his pulse quickening as he exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Eliza. Her hand gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white. Davonte looked equally tense, his silver eyes narrowing as he leaned closer.


    The professors¡¯ conversation continued, but their voices became too faint to decipher. After a few moments, the sound of their footsteps faded as they moved further into the library. The trio sat frozen, the weight of what they¡¯d overheard sinking in.


    ¡°Did you hear that?¡± Davonte whispered, his voice barely audible. ¡°Thirty basilisks. Someone¡¯s moving them.¡±


    ¡°And placing them,¡± Eliza added, her brow furrowed in thought. ¡°This isn¡¯t just a coincidence. It¡¯s deliberate.¡±


    Soya swallowed hard, his mind racing. ¡°But why? Why would anyone do that? Basilisks are dangerous¡ªthey could hurt people, destroy habitats. What¡¯s the point?¡±


    ¡°Could be a test,¡± Davonte suggested grimly. ¡°See how wizards respond, test the limits of their defenses. Or maybe it¡¯s just chaos for the sake of chaos.¡±


    Eliza shook her head. ¡°Whatever it is, it¡¯s bigger than us. But if the professors are already investigating, maybe they¡¯ll find answers before anyone gets hurt.¡±


    Soya hesitated, his gaze drifting toward the aisle where Byrah had disappeared. ¡°Do you think she knows more than she¡¯s letting on? She sounded... sure of herself.¡±


    ¡°Of course she does,¡± Davonte said, crossing his arms. ¡°But she¡¯s not about to share that with a bunch of first-years.¡±


    Eliza nodded reluctantly. ¡°Still, we need to keep our eyes open. If we notice anything unusual, we document it. Quietly.¡±


    Soya agreed, though the unease in his chest remained. Whatever was happening, it was clear that their world was far more dangerous¡ªand far more complicated¡ªthan he had ever imagined.


    The library remained quiet as the trio resumed their search for answers. The weight of what they had overheard hung over them like a storm cloud, but they knew they couldn¡¯t stop now. There was still so much they didn¡¯t understand.


    Eliza flipped through a book titled Runic Wardings of the Southern Hemisphere, her brow furrowed in concentration. Davonte was skimming through an old journal that detailed basilisk behaviors, though he looked more frustrated with each page he turned. Soya focused on jotting down notes, his sketchbook open beside him with a half-finished drawing of the basilisk they¡¯d seen in the grove.


    After a long stretch of silence, Eliza suddenly straightened in her chair, her finger tapping the page in front of her. ¡°Wait a second,¡± she said, her voice sharp with realization.


    Both boys looked up, startled by the shift in her tone. ¡°What is it?¡± Soya asked, setting his quill down.


    ¡°The rune,¡± Eliza said, her green eyes bright with excitement. ¡°The one we saw next to the lake. Remember how we just noted it down and moved on? We didn¡¯t think much of it at the time because it didn¡¯t seem connected to the basilisk.¡±


    ¡°What about it?¡± Davonte asked, closing his book and leaning forward. ¡°It was probably just a leftover from some old spellwork.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Eliza said, shaking her head. ¡°Runes don¡¯t just appear randomly, especially not ones like that. It wasn¡¯t a ward or anything standard¡ªit was too deliberate. And think about it: there are only a few people in this entire castle who specialize in runes.¡±


    Davonte¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Professor Wirruna, obviously. She¡¯s the head of Runes. And Professor Blackthorn.¡±


    ¡°And Salem,¡± Soya added quietly, recalling the reserved student whose talent for runes had been mentioned more than once. ¡°He¡¯s known for it.¡±


    ¡°And Sage,¡± Eliza said firmly, her voice tinged with suspicion. ¡°We can¡¯t ignore him. He¡¯s Sevrin¡¯s shadow half the time, and he¡¯s been acting strange ever since the basilisk showed up.¡±


    ¡°But why would Sage¡ªor anyone, for that matter¡ªput a rune near the lake?¡± Soya asked, his brow furrowing. ¡°What could it even do?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what we need to figure out,¡± Eliza said, flipping to another section of her book. She scanned the page quickly before continuing. ¡°Runes can have all kinds of effects depending on how they¡¯re drawn and powered. Some can be used to summon creatures, while others can act as anchors for magic or even distort natural habitats.¡±


    Davonte let out a low whistle. ¡°So you¡¯re saying that rune might be tied to the basilisk somehow? Like it was put there to bring it to the grove?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s possible,¡± Eliza said, her voice steady but serious. ¡°And if that¡¯s the case, it means someone deliberately brought that basilisk here. This wasn¡¯t an accident.¡±


    Soya felt a chill run down his spine. The idea that someone within the castle¡ªsomeone they might have passed in the corridors or sat near in class¡ªcould be responsible was deeply unsettling. ¡°But who would do something like that?¡± he asked. ¡°And why?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what we need to figure out,¡± Eliza said, determination hardening her features. She turned the book around to show them a diagram of a rune similar to the one they¡¯d seen. ¡°This one is used for containment, but if you alter it slightly, it can act as a summoning marker. The rune by the lake had some of these elements, but it was incomplete. Almost like it was interrupted.¡±


    ¡°Interrupted?¡± Davonte echoed. ¡°You think someone was in the middle of setting it up and got caught?¡±


    ¡°Or maybe they left it unfinished on purpose,¡± Eliza suggested. ¡°To throw people off or to avoid detection.¡±


    Soya stared at the diagram, his mind racing. ¡°If Sage or someone else from the castle was involved, wouldn¡¯t the professors notice? They¡¯re the experts.¡±


    ¡°Not if they¡¯re careful,¡± Eliza said grimly. ¡°Runes like this can be hidden in plain sight if you know what you¡¯re doing. And if it¡¯s Sage, he¡¯s had plenty of time to practice.¡±


    Davonte leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. ¡°So what do we do now? Go tell Professor Blackthorn that one of his sons might be summoning basilisks for fun?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Eliza said firmly. ¡°We don¡¯t have proof¡ªjust suspicions. But we do need to keep digging. If we can figure out what the rune was supposed to do, it might give us a better idea of who¡¯s behind this.¡±


    Soya nodded, though the unease in his chest remained. The pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together, but the picture they were forming was anything but reassuring. He glanced at the shelves around them, wondering what other secrets the library held¡ªand whether they were ready to uncover them.

 Chapter 10: The Rune

    The group sat huddled in the quiet corner of the Thylacea common room, their heads close together as they whispered. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, casting flickering shadows on their faces. Soya glanced nervously around the room, but most of the other students were preoccupied with their own conversations or homework.


    ¡°This is a bad idea,¡± Soya muttered, his voice barely audible. His calico kitten, curled in his lap, let out a soft meow, almost as if in agreement.


    ¡°It¡¯s the only way to get answers,¡± Eliza countered, her green eyes flashing with determination. ¡°We need to see that rune up close and figure out what it¡¯s doing there. If we wait for the professors, who knows how long it¡¯ll take? They¡¯re clearly keeping things from us.¡±


    Davonte leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. ¡°You¡¯re assuming we can even find it again. The grove is huge, and it¡¯s not like we marked the spot.¡±


    Eliza pulled out her notebook, flipping to a page covered in sketches and notes. ¡°I drew a rough map of the area based on where we were during the field trip. I think I can retrace our steps.¡±


    Soya stared at the map, his stomach twisting. ¡°And what if we get caught? Or worse, what if there¡¯s another basilisk?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll be careful,¡± Eliza said, her tone firm. ¡°We have locator orbs, and we¡¯ll stick together. Besides, we¡¯re not going to get close to any creatures¡ªwe¡¯re just going to look at the rune.¡±


    Davonte sighed. ¡°And then what? Take a picture and hand it to the professors? They¡¯re going to wonder how we got it.¡±


    Eliza hesitated. ¡°We¡¯ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, we just need to focus on finding the rune and figuring out what it means.¡±


    Soya shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He hated the idea of sneaking out, but he couldn¡¯t deny the growing curiosity gnawing at him. The missing pages from Byrah¡¯s book, the overheard conversation about basilisks¡ªit all pointed to something bigger. And the rune by the lake might be the key to understanding it.


    ¡°What about Sevrin and Sage?¡± Soya asked, glancing around the room again. ¡°If they¡¯re involved, they could already know we¡¯re onto something.¡±


    Eliza frowned. ¡°That¡¯s why we need to move quickly. The longer we wait, the more time they have to cover their tracks¡ªif they¡¯re involved at all.¡±


    Davonte leaned forward, his silver eyes sharp. ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan? Sneak out after curfew? Hope the prefects don¡¯t catch us?¡±


    ¡°Pretty much,¡± Eliza admitted. ¡°We¡¯ll wait until the common room is clear, then head to the grove. I¡¯ve got a Disillusionment Charm we can use if we run into trouble.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± Davonte said dryly. ¡°Because sneaking around in the dark with a charm we barely know is such a foolproof plan.¡±


    Eliza shot him a look. ¡°Do you have a better idea?¡±


    Davonte shrugged. ¡°Not really. But if we¡¯re doing this, we need to be smart about it. Stick to the shadows, keep quiet, and don¡¯t take unnecessary risks.¡±


    Soya swallowed hard, his fingers tightening on his kitten¡¯s fur. ¡°And what if we find something dangerous? What then?¡±


    Eliza¡¯s expression softened. ¡°We¡¯ll deal with it together. But we¡¯re not going to let fear stop us. If we don¡¯t do this, we¡¯ll never get answers.¡±


    The fire crackled again, and the group fell into silence, the weight of their decision settling over them. Soya looked at his friends, their faces lit by the warm glow of the flames. Despite his fears, he couldn¡¯t help but feel a spark of determination. They were in this together, and whatever they found in the grove, they would face it as a team.


    ¡°Fine,¡± he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. ¡°I¡¯m in.¡±


    Eliza smiled, relief and resolve flickering in her eyes. ¡°Good. Let¡¯s meet back here after lights out. Bring your wands¡ªand wear something you can move in.¡±


    Davonte smirked. ¡°Looks like we¡¯re going on an adventure after all.¡±


    As the others began to finalize their plan, Soya leaned back in his chair, his kitten purring softly in his lap. The knot of anxiety in his chest hadn¡¯t disappeared.


    The hours dragged as the group waited for the castle to quiet down. Soya sat on the edge of his bed in the Thylacea dormitory, his kitten curled up next to him. He ran a hand through its soft fur, his mind racing with what-ifs. Davonte had made a sarcastic comment earlier about what to pack for sneaking through a magical forest, and Soya couldn¡¯t help but replay it in his head. A joke was easier to focus on than the potential danger of their plan.


    When the soft hum of conversation in the common room finally died down, Soya grabbed his satchel, double-checking the contents: wand, notebook, and locator orb. He crept out of the dormitory, the dim light from the enchanted sconces casting long shadows on the stone walls.


    Eliza and Davonte were waiting in the corner near the fire, both dressed in dark cloaks. Eliza had a determined look on her face, while Davonte leaned against the wall, his usual smirk replaced with a more serious expression.


    ¡°Ready?¡± Eliza asked, her voice barely above a whisper.


    Soya nodded. ¡°As ready as I¡¯ll ever be.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°Good,¡± she said, pulling a small, battered tome from her bag. ¡°I brought this in case we need a refresher on the Disillusionment Charm.¡±


    Davonte raised an eyebrow. ¡°You brought a book? What are you going to do, read to the basilisk?¡±


    Eliza rolled her eyes. ¡°If we do this right, we won¡¯t need to worry about any creatures. Now, let¡¯s go before someone decides to stay up late.¡±


    The trio slipped through the common room¡¯s exit, the carved Tasmanian tiger on the door giving them a curious glance before letting them pass. The corridors of Austramore were eerily quiet, the usual bustle of students replaced by the distant echo of their footsteps. Moonlight streamed through the tall windows, casting silver patterns on the floor.


    ¡°Stick close,¡± Eliza whispered, leading the way. ¡°We¡¯ll take the south staircase. Fewer patrols there.¡±


    They moved in silence, their senses heightened by the stillness of the castle. Every creak of the floorboards and distant hoot of an owl made Soya flinch, his hand gripping his wand tightly. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the adrenaline making every sound seem louder than it was.


    When they reached the entrance hall, Eliza stopped and motioned for them to huddle. ¡°This is where it gets tricky,¡± she said quietly. ¡°The main gate is usually locked after hours, but I¡¯ve seen upperclassmen use a charm to open it. It¡¯s simple enough¡ªAlohomora.¡±


    Davonte glanced around nervously. ¡°Let¡¯s hope the prefects aren¡¯t lurking nearby.¡±


    Eliza raised her wand, her movements precise as she pointed it at the lock. ¡°Alohomora,¡± she whispered.


    The lock clicked softly, and the heavy wooden doors creaked open just enough for them to slip through. Eliza pushed the door shut behind them, ensuring it didn¡¯t make too much noise.


    The cool night air hit them immediately, carrying the faint scent of eucalyptus and damp earth. The grounds were bathed in moonlight, the shadows of the towering trees stretching across the grass like dark veins. The trio moved quickly, sticking to the edges of the paths to avoid being seen.


    When they reached the edge of the grove, Eliza paused, pulling out her notebook. ¡°We¡¯ll head toward the stream first,¡± she said, flipping to the map she had sketched. ¡°From there, we should be able to find the clearing where the rune was.¡±


    ¡°Should,¡± Davonte repeated, his voice dry. ¡°Very reassuring.¡±


    Soya glanced over his shoulder, the castle looming in the distance. ¡°Let¡¯s just get this over with.¡±


    The grove was even more unsettling at night. The rustling of leaves and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot made Soya¡¯s nerves jump. The locator orb at his waist glowed faintly, a comforting reminder of their connection to safety, but it did little to quell his unease.


    As they followed the stream, Eliza kept checking her map, her expression focused. Davonte muttered occasional complaints about the cold or the darkness, but even he seemed unusually tense. Soya stayed quiet, his senses on high alert.


    When they finally reached the clearing, Eliza stopped and pointed. ¡°There it is,¡± she said, her voice hushed.


    The rune was faintly visible in the moonlight, etched into the ground near the edge of the water. It was larger than Soya had remembered, the intricate lines and symbols seeming to shimmer faintly as they got closer.


    Eliza knelt beside it, her notebook open as she began sketching. ¡°This is definitely deliberate,¡± she murmured. ¡°No way this was made by accident.¡±


    Davonte stood a few feet back, his wand drawn. ¡°And no way this is just a summoning rune. Look at those patterns¡ªthey¡¯re way too complex.¡±


    Soya crouched beside Eliza, his eyes scanning the rune. ¡°What do you think it¡¯s for?¡±


    Eliza frowned, her quill pausing mid-stroke. ¡°I¡¯m not sure yet, but it¡¯s definitely tied to the basilisk. See these marks here? They¡¯re similar to containment runes, but they¡¯ve been altered. It¡¯s like someone combined multiple types of magic.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not comforting,¡± Davonte muttered, his gaze darting around the clearing.


    As they continued studying the rune, a faint rustling sound made them all freeze. Soya¡¯s heart leapt into his throat as he turned toward the noise, his wand trembling slightly in his hand.


    ¡°What was that?¡± he whispered.


    ¡°Probably just the wind,¡± Eliza said, though her voice was unconvincing.


    Davonte stepped forward cautiously, his wand raised. ¡°Wind doesn¡¯t make footsteps,¡± he said grimly. ¡°We need to move. Now.¡±


    Eliza froze, her eyes wide as the faint sound of footsteps grew louder. Soya¡¯s breath hitched, and Davonte immediately extinguished the light from his wand with a whispered, ¡°Nox.¡± The three huddled low to the ground, retreating behind a cluster of bushes near the stream¡¯s edge. The rustling of leaves and the crunch of twigs underfoot were unmistakable now¡ªsomeone was approaching the rune.


    Soya¡¯s heart pounded so loudly he was certain whoever was coming would hear it. Eliza pressed a finger to her lips, signaling for absolute silence. They crouched in the shadows, their breaths shallow as they waited.


    Two figures stepped into the clearing, their silhouettes sharp in the moonlight. Soya recognized them immediately: Sevrin Verelle and Sage Blackthorn. They moved with an air of purpose, their dark robes blending into the shadows of the grove.


    Sevrin stopped near the rune, his wand already in his hand. Sage followed closely, glancing around the clearing as if to ensure they were alone.


    ¡°This is sloppy work,¡± Sevrin muttered, his tone laced with disdain. ¡°If anyone else had stumbled upon this, we¡¯d have more than just curious professors poking around.¡±


    Sage shrugged, his voice low but carrying an edge of annoyance. ¡°We didn¡¯t exactly have time for perfection, Sevrin. You¡¯re lucky I even managed to get it done before Byrah showed up.¡±


    Sevrin scoffed, crouching to examine the rune more closely. ¡°Lucky, indeed. But this is careless. They¡¯ll figure it out eventually if we leave it like this.¡±


    From their hiding spot, Soya felt Eliza¡¯s hand tighten on his arm. Her eyes were locked on the scene, her expression a mix of fear and determination. Davonte, crouched beside them, looked ready to spring into action at any moment, though the tension in his clenched jaw suggested he was restraining himself.


    Sage waved his wand over the rune, muttering an incantation under his breath. The etched lines began to fade, the shimmering patterns dissolving into the ground as if they had never been there.


    ¡°There,¡± Sage said, straightening. ¡°No one will find anything now.¡±


    ¡°Not good enough,¡± Sevrin replied sharply. ¡°We need to make sure nothing points back to us. If Byrah connects this to the basilisk, we¡¯re finished.¡±


    ¡°She won¡¯t,¡± Sage said confidently. ¡°She has no proof. All she has is a lot of questions and no answers.¡±


    Sevrin¡¯s gaze darkened, and he took a step closer to Sage. ¡°Questions lead to answers, Sage. You¡¯d do well to remember that.¡±


    Sage rolled his eyes but said nothing, his wand still drawn as he scanned the clearing one last time. ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s go. There¡¯s nothing left here to find.¡±


    Sevrin hesitated, his piercing green eyes narrowing as he looked toward the shadows. For a moment, Soya was certain Sevrin¡¯s gaze had landed directly on their hiding spot. He held his breath, his muscles tensing as he prepared to run¡ªor fight, if it came to that.


    ¡°Something wrong?¡± Sage asked, glancing at Sevrin.


    Sevrin¡¯s expression softened, and he shook his head. ¡°No. Let¡¯s move.¡±


    The two of them disappeared into the trees, their footsteps fading into the distance. Soya, Eliza, and Davonte remained frozen for several long moments, the silence of the grove pressing in around them.


    Finally, Eliza exhaled shakily, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Did you hear that?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re involved,¡± Davonte said grimly, his silver eyes blazing with anger. ¡°They¡¯re behind the basilisk, the rune¡ªeverything.¡±


    Soya nodded, his mind spinning. ¡°But why? What could they possibly gain from all this?¡±


    Eliza shook her head, her expression conflicted. ¡°I don¡¯t know. But we can¡¯t stay here. If they come back¡ª¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll be next on their list,¡± Davonte finished, already standing and brushing off his cloak. ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here.¡±


    The trio moved quickly but quietly, retracing their steps through the grove. The weight of what they had just witnessed hung heavily over them, each step a reminder of the danger they were now entangled in. By the time they reached the edge of the castle grounds, the first hints of dawn were breaking on the horizon.


    As they slipped back into the castle and made their way toward the Thylacea common room, Soya couldn¡¯t shake the image of Sevrin and Sage standing over the rune, their cold voices echoing in his mind. Whatever was happening, it was bigger than any of them had realized¡ªand far more dangerous.

 Chapter 11: Shadows of Doubt

    The days following their discovery in the grove passed in a haze for Soya Vareen. The castle''s daily hum of life¡ªthe clatter of plates in the Great Hall, the murmured conversations in classrooms, the occasional burst of laughter from older students in the corridors¡ªfelt distant, almost muted. He moved through his routine mechanically, but his mind was a whirlwind of fear and doubt.


    Eliza had taken it upon herself to dive deeper into research. Every spare moment she wasn¡¯t in class, she was holed up in the library, her notes growing in size and complexity. She insisted they needed answers and that time was of the essence. Davonte helped when he could, but his approach was more relaxed, often veering into jokes to keep their spirits up.


    But Soya? He found himself pulling away.


    It wasn¡¯t a conscious decision at first. It started with small things: staying a little longer at breakfast to avoid the rush to the library, offering to help with simple tasks for professors so he wouldn¡¯t have to join the others. Soon, he was spending more time in classes and quiet corners of the castle, sketching magical creatures or revising basic charms.


    Soya sat cross-legged in the Thylacea common room one evening, his calico kitten curled in his lap. The soft crackle of the fireplace filled the space as older students murmured nearby, their voices blending into a comforting background hum. His sketchbook rested against his knees, and he was halfway through a drawing of the Golden Fletchling they¡¯d seen in the grove.


    His pencil hovered over the page, but his focus wavered. The image of Sevrin and Sage standing over the rune played over and over in his mind. The cold calculation in their voices, the way they had so easily erased evidence¡ªit all felt too much for him to process.


    What am I even doing? he thought, his chest tightening. I¡¯m not brave like Eliza or confident like Davonte. I¡¯m just... me.


    His kitten stirred, pressing its tiny nose against his hand. He absentmindedly scratched behind its ears, but the gesture did little to ease the turmoil inside him. The thought of sneaking out again, of uncovering even more dangerous secrets, made his stomach churn.


    He was only eleven.


    The next morning, Soya sat alone in the Great Hall, poking at a bowl of porridge. Eliza had already left for the library, and Davonte was trying to convince a group of second-years to join him in practicing dueling techniques later. The chatter of students around him felt like static, an incessant buzz he couldn¡¯t tune out.


    ¡°You look like you¡¯ve seen a banshee,¡± Davonte¡¯s voice cut through the noise as he slid onto the bench beside him. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±


    Soya hesitated, staring into his porridge as though it held the answers. ¡°Nothing,¡± he mumbled.


    Davonte wasn¡¯t convinced. He tilted his head, his silver eyes narrowing slightly. ¡°Come on, mate. I know that look. Spill.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just...¡± Soya started, then faltered. How could he explain the weight pressing on him without sounding ridiculous? He bit his lip, then tried again. ¡°Do you ever feel like... maybe we shouldn¡¯t be doing this? Like, what if we¡¯re in over our heads?¡±


    Davonte¡¯s expression softened, and he leaned back slightly. ¡°Of course I do. This whole thing is mental, isn¡¯t it? Runes, basilisks, professors keeping secrets¡ªit¡¯s not exactly what we signed up for.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Soya said, his voice barely above a whisper. ¡°We¡¯re just first-years. We¡¯re not supposed to be dealing with things like this. What if we mess up? What if... what if someone gets hurt?¡±


    Davonte was quiet for a moment, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something more serious. ¡°Look, I get it. This is scary. But if we don¡¯t try to figure this out, who will? The professors are obviously keeping us in the dark, and Sevrin and Sage¡ªwell, you saw them. They¡¯re up to something, and it¡¯s not good.¡±


    ¡°But what can we even do?¡± Soya asked, his voice cracking slightly. ¡°We¡¯re just kids.¡±


    Davonte smiled faintly, placing a hand on Soya¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Yeah, we¡¯re just kids. But sometimes, kids notice things adults don¡¯t. And we¡¯ve got each other, right? You don¡¯t have to do this alone.¡±


    Soya nodded, though the knot in his chest didn¡¯t entirely loosen. The truth was, he wasn¡¯t sure if he could keep going. The fear was always there, a shadow that followed him no matter how hard he tried to push it away.


    Later that day, during their free period, Soya found himself wandering the castle grounds. The fresh air helped clear his head, but it didn¡¯t silence the doubts that gnawed at him. He stopped near the edge of the lake, the water reflecting the pale afternoon sky.


    Sitting on a flat rock, he pulled out his sketchbook and began to draw. The pencil moved instinctively, capturing the curves of a Glowvine Boa winding through the trees. As he worked, the world around him faded, and for a brief moment, the fear and uncertainty melted away.


    But then his hand slipped, the line on the page jagged and out of place. He stared at the mistake, his chest tightening. It felt like a metaphor for everything he was feeling¡ªtrying so hard to make sense of things, only to stumble and falter.


    He sighed, closing the sketchbook and hugging it to his chest. The water lapped gently at the shore, its rhythmic sound soothing but not enough to quiet the storm inside him.


    I don¡¯t know if I can do this, he thought, the weight of the decision pressing down on him like never before.


    The next few days passed in a blur, and Soya felt more like an observer of his own life than an active participant. Classes came and went, meals were eaten, and the routine of castle life carried on around him. But no matter how much he tried to focus on his studies or lose himself in his drawings, the weight of everything they¡¯d uncovered pressed relentlessly on his mind.


    Eliza, meanwhile, was as determined as ever. She spent nearly all her free time in the library, often returning to the common room with stacks of notes and books, her green eyes alight with purpose. Each evening, she would corner Soya and Davonte in the quietest corner of the common room to share her findings.


    On the fourth evening, Eliza placed her notebook on the table between them with a decisive thud. ¡°Alright,¡± she said, brushing a loose strand of auburn hair out of her face. ¡°I think I¡¯ve finally pieced some of this together.¡±


    Davonte leaned forward, feigning dramatic anticipation. ¡°Please, enlighten us, oh wise one.¡±


    Eliza ignored him, flipping open her notebook to reveal a series of neatly drawn diagrams and notes. ¡°So, here¡¯s what I¡¯ve figured out. The rune we saw near the lake? It¡¯s definitely not standard. It has elements of summoning magic, but also containment. Whoever drew it knew exactly what they were doing.¡±Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡°Okay,¡± Soya said quietly, his fingers fiddling with the corner of his sketchbook. ¡°But what does that mean?¡±


    ¡°It means,¡± Eliza continued, her tone serious, ¡°that the basilisk didn¡¯t just wander into the grove by accident. Someone brought it there¡ªand they used that rune to control it.¡±


    Davonte frowned, leaning back in his chair. ¡°Control it? Why would anyone want to do that? Basilisks aren¡¯t exactly easy pets.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Eliza admitted, her brow furrowing. ¡°But it¡¯s not just about the basilisk. I¡¯ve been looking into the patterns Professor Byrah mentioned¡ªthe other basilisks that have appeared in strange places. In almost every case, there were reports of magical disturbances beforehand. Runes, strange lights, disappearing creatures. It¡¯s all connected.¡±


    Soya swallowed hard, the knot in his chest tightening further. ¡°But why would someone do that? What¡¯s the point?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the part I can¡¯t figure out,¡± Eliza said, frustration creeping into her voice. ¡°But it¡¯s not random. Whoever¡¯s behind this has a plan¡ªand they¡¯re powerful enough to pull it off.¡±


    The weight of her words settled over the group, and for a moment, none of them spoke. Soya stared at the diagrams in Eliza¡¯s notebook, the intricate lines of the rune seeming to blur together as his thoughts spiraled.


    Later that night, as Soya lay in bed, the reality of their situation pressed down on him like a suffocating blanket. He stared up at the ceiling, the flickering light from his kitten¡¯s enchanted collar casting faint patterns on the stone. His mind raced, replaying the events of the past week over and over.


    It was too much. Too big. Too dangerous.


    He wasn¡¯t like Eliza or Davonte. He didn¡¯t have their confidence, their courage. He was just... ordinary. Before coming to Austramore, his life had been simple¡ªschool, weekends at home, sketching in the park. Magic had been something he¡¯d read about in books, not something he lived.


    Now, everything was different. He was a wizard. A Muggle-born wizard, no less¡ªthe first in centuries to attend Austramore. And with that came expectations he wasn¡¯t sure he could meet. People whispered about him in the halls, watched him during lessons, waiting for him to prove he belonged.


    And then there was this¡ªthis secret, this dangerous plot that felt like it belonged in a story, not in his life. He wanted to believe they could figure it out, that they could help, but the truth was, he was scared. Terrified, even. Of the basilisk, of the runes, of Sevrin and Sage... but most of all, of failing.


    The next morning, Soya found himself wandering the castle grounds during a free period. The crisp air and the faint scent of eucalyptus helped clear his mind, but only slightly. He sat by the lake, sketchbook in hand, but his pencil moved aimlessly across the page. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn¡¯t focus.


    Eliza¡¯s voice echoed in his mind: Someone brought the basilisk here.


    Why would someone do that? What could they possibly gain? And why did it feel like every step they took brought them closer to something even more dangerous?


    Soya clenched his pencil tightly, his chest tightening as fear threatened to overwhelm him. What could he possibly do against something like this?


    His kitten mewed softly, nuzzling against his arm, and he let out a shaky breath, forcing himself to relax. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do,¡± he whispered, the words barely audible.


    The kitten purred, its small warmth a tiny comfort against the storm raging inside him.


    By the time Soya returned to the common room that evening, Eliza was back at the table with another stack of notes. Davonte was already there, munching on a biscuit and making occasional quips as Eliza explained her latest theories. Soya hesitated in the doorway, unsure if he was ready to face the weight of their research again.


    ¡°Hey, Soya!¡± Davonte called, waving him over. ¡°You¡¯ve got to hear this. Eliza¡¯s cracked another part of the mystery wide open.¡±


    Soya managed a small smile as he joined them, but his heart wasn¡¯t in it. As Eliza launched into her explanation, her passion and determination shining through, Soya felt a pang of guilt. She was doing so much, pushing forward with a courage he couldn¡¯t seem to find. And Davonte, even with his jokes and laid-back attitude, was right there beside her, ready to face whatever came next.


    But Soya? He felt like a shadow, always a step behind, always unsure.


    He nodded along as Eliza spoke, forcing himself to listen even as doubt gnawed at him. He wanted to help. He wanted to be brave. But he wasn¡¯t sure if he could.


    The days following Eliza¡¯s revelations passed with an unsettling normalcy. Classes went on as usual, the hum of student chatter filled the halls, and the castle grounds remained alive with activity. Yet for Soya, a persistent undercurrent of anxiety marred everything. Each time Eliza returned from her research, her notes more detailed and her determination more palpable, he felt the weight of their situation pressing down on him.


    One chilly morning, Soya noticed the first sign something was wrong.


    Eliza wasn¡¯t at breakfast.


    At first, it didn¡¯t seem unusual¡ªstudents occasionally overslept or skipped meals to finish assignments. But when lunchtime came and went without her appearing, Soya¡¯s unease grew. By the time their afternoon classes began, whispers were spreading among the Thylacea students.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Eliza?¡± Davonte asked, frowning as they walked to their Defence Against the Dark Arts class. ¡°She hasn¡¯t missed a class all term.¡±


    Soya shook his head, his grip tightening on his satchel. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe she¡¯s still in the library?¡±


    ¡°Doubt it,¡± Davonte replied, his voice tense. ¡°Madam Lorelei would¡¯ve sent her packing by now. And I checked the common room¡ªshe¡¯s not there either.¡±


    By the end of the day, Eliza¡¯s absence was impossible to ignore. Even Professor Marilla had glanced at her empty seat with a brief flicker of concern during class, though she didn¡¯t say anything. When the students returned to the Thylacea common room that evening, the usual lively chatter felt muted, replaced by murmurs about where Eliza might be.


    The next morning, Soya sat in the Great Hall, staring at his untouched plate of toast and eggs. Davonte dropped into the seat beside him, his usually bright demeanor subdued. ¡°Nothing,¡± he said quietly. ¡°I asked around. No one¡¯s seen her since two nights ago.¡±


    Soya¡¯s stomach churned. ¡°Do you think... do you think something happened to her?¡±


    Davonte hesitated, his silver eyes darkening. ¡°I don¡¯t know, mate. But whatever¡¯s going on, it¡¯s not normal. And I¡¯m not going to just sit around and wait for answers.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Soya asked, a note of panic creeping into his voice.


    ¡°I mean I¡¯m going to keep digging,¡± Davonte said firmly. ¡°Eliza was onto something¡ªsomething big. And if someone¡¯s trying to stop her, then they¡¯re hiding something worth knowing.¡±


    Soya swallowed hard, his throat dry. ¡°But what if... what if it¡¯s too dangerous? What if we...¡±


    Davonte placed a hand on Soya¡¯s shoulder, his expression softening. ¡°I get it, Soya. You¡¯re scared. I am too. But Eliza wouldn¡¯t give up on us. And I¡¯m not giving up on her.¡±


    Soya spent the rest of the day in a haze, torn between his fear and the gnawing guilt of doing nothing. He attended his classes, answered questions when called upon, and nodded politely during conversations, but his mind was elsewhere. Each time he thought of Eliza¡ªher determined smile, her sharp wit¡ªhis chest tightened with a mix of worry and self-loathing.


    That evening, he sat alone in the corner of the common room, his sketchbook open on his lap. His kitten curled up beside him, purring softly, but the sound did little to soothe him. The pages of his sketchbook were filled with drawings of magical creatures, intricate landscapes, and half-finished designs for a Tideball banner he¡¯d been working on before everything had gone wrong.


    He flipped to a blank page, his hand moving automatically as he began to sketch. The pencil glided across the paper, forming the outline of a sleek, dragon-like creature. Its wings were spread wide, its sharp eyes fierce and alive. Soya poured his emotions into the drawing¡ªhis fear, his anger, his helplessness¡ªuntil the creature seemed almost ready to leap off the page.


    And then it did.


    For a brief moment, the lines of the drawing shimmered, the creature¡¯s form glowing faintly as though lit from within. Its wings twitched, its tail curled, and its eyes locked onto Soya¡¯s with an intensity that made his breath catch.


    He froze, his heart pounding as the creature shifted on the page, its movements fluid and lifelike. His kitten hissed, its fur bristling as it backed away. Soya¡¯s hand trembled, his pencil falling to the floor with a soft clatter.


    Just as quickly as it had come to life, the creature faded, its glow dimming until it was nothing more than ink on paper again. Soya stared at the drawing, his mind reeling.


    ¡°What... what was that?¡± he whispered, his voice barely audible.


    The kitten crept back onto his lap, its small body trembling as it pressed against him for comfort. Soya stroked its fur absently, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and fear. Was it a spell? A trick of the light? Or was it something else¡ªsomething connected to the strange magic that seemed to follow him wherever he went?


    The incident left Soya shaken, but he told no one. Not Davonte, not the professors, not even the kitten, who seemed just as bewildered as he was. He tucked the sketchbook under his pillow that night, unable to bring himself to look at the drawing again.


    Over the next few days, the weight of Eliza¡¯s absence grew heavier. Davonte threw himself into research with a single-minded determination that bordered on obsession, while Soya drifted between classes and the common room, his mind plagued by doubt.


    He wanted to help. He wanted to be brave, to stand by his friends and uncover the truth. But the memory of Eliza¡¯s empty seat and the glow of his own drawing haunted him, a constant reminder of how out of his depth he truly was.


    What could he do? He was just a boy¡ªa boy who barely understood the magical world he¡¯d been thrust into. If someone as smart and capable as Eliza could disappear, what chance did he have? And if he followed the same path, wouldn¡¯t they come for him too?


    The questions swirled endlessly in his mind, and with each passing day, the weight of his fear grew heavier. He didn¡¯t know what lay ahead, but one thing was clear: the road before him was dark and uncertain, and he wasn¡¯t sure if he had the strength to walk it.

 Chapter 12: Ministry Investigation

    The Great Hall was unusually quiet that morning. Normally, the chatter of students filled the air, mingling with the clatter of cutlery and the occasional screech of owls delivering mail. Today, however, the atmosphere was subdued, the tension almost palpable. Even the enchanted ceiling seemed dimmer, a blanket of gray clouds reflecting the unease below.


    Soya sat at the Thylacea table, absently poking at his breakfast. Davonte, seated beside him, seemed equally distracted, his silver eyes scanning the room. The Yarramundi table was abuzz with whispers, and the other houses weren¡¯t much different. The rumors about Eliza¡¯s disappearance had spread like wildfire, leaving the entire school on edge.


    The soft but deliberate sound of footsteps silenced the hall as Headmaster Boromus Spellchecker ascended to the dais at the front. His robes, a deep emerald green trimmed with gold, shimmered faintly in the enchanted light. His presence commanded attention, and as he reached the podium, every student turned their eyes toward him.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± Boromus began, his voice calm but resolute. He surveyed the room, his sharp, pale blue eyes resting briefly on each table. ¡°I trust by now many of you have heard rumors regarding recent events at Austramore. Allow me to address the matter directly.¡±


    Soya felt his stomach tighten, the fork in his hand frozen mid-air.


    ¡°As you may be aware,¡± Boromus continued, ¡°one of our students, Eliza Gorman of Thylacea House, has been reported missing. Despite our best efforts, her whereabouts remain unknown. This is, of course, a matter of grave concern for all of us.¡±


    A wave of murmurs swept through the hall, but the headmaster raised a hand, and silence quickly returned.


    ¡°To ensure the safety and well-being of everyone at Austramore, the Ministry of Magic has dispatched a team of officials to assist in the investigation. They will be present on school grounds for the foreseeable future. Their presence is not cause for alarm but rather a precautionary measure to ensure no stone is left unturned.¡±


    Boromus¡¯s gaze swept the room again, his expression unyielding. ¡°I must emphasize that all students are required to cooperate fully with the ministry officials. Should they ask you questions, you are to answer honestly and to the best of your ability. This is not optional. Their purpose here is to help us, and I expect each of you to treat them with the respect they deserve.¡±


    Soya¡¯s chest tightened, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind. Would they question him? What would he even say?


    ¡°Lastly,¡± Boromus said, his tone softening slightly, ¡°I urge you all to support one another during this difficult time. We are a community, and our strength lies in our unity. Should you have any concerns or information, please do not hesitate to approach your head of house or myself directly.¡±


    With a final glance around the room, Boromus stepped back from the podium. ¡°Enjoy your breakfast, and may the rest of your day be productive.¡±


    As the headmaster took his seat, the hall erupted into hushed conversations. Soya felt Davonte nudge his arm.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s ominous,¡± Davonte muttered. ¡°Ministry officials prowling around the school. That¡¯s not going to make anyone nervous.¡±


    ¡°Do you think they¡¯ll question us?¡± Soya asked, his voice barely above a whisper.


    ¡°Probably,¡± Davonte said, his expression darkening. ¡°We were with Eliza a lot. They¡¯ll want to know if she said anything unusual before she disappeared.¡±


    Soya nodded slowly, his appetite gone. The thought of being interrogated by ministry officials was terrifying enough, but the idea of saying the wrong thing¡ªof somehow drawing more attention to himself¡ªwas even worse.


    Soya¡¯s fears proved well-founded later that morning when a Ministry official intercepted him on his way to Herbology. The man was tall and imposing, his neatly trimmed beard and sharp black robes giving him an air of authority. He introduced himself as Investigator Harlen Pierce and asked Soya to accompany him to an empty classroom.


    The room was cold and dimly lit, its bare stone walls amplifying every sound. Soya sat in a chair facing Pierce, who conjured a clipboard and quill with a flick of his wand.


    ¡°Relax, Mr. Vareen,¡± Pierce said, his tone smooth but impersonal. ¡°This is just a routine inquiry. We¡¯re speaking to all students who were close to Miss Gorman.¡±


    Soya nodded, his hands gripping the edge of his chair.


    ¡°Let¡¯s start with something simple,¡± Pierce said, his quill hovering over the parchment. ¡°When was the last time you saw Miss Gorman?¡±


    ¡°Uh, three days ago,¡± Soya replied, his voice shaky. ¡°We were in the library.¡±


    ¡°And what were you doing there?¡± Pierce asked, his quill scratching out notes.


    ¡°Studying,¡± Soya said quickly. ¡°For, um, Magical Beasts.¡±


    Pierce¡¯s sharp eyes studied him for a moment before he continued. ¡°Did Miss Gorman mention anything unusual? Perhaps a project she was working on or something that concerned her?¡±


    Soya hesitated, his heart pounding. He couldn¡¯t tell Pierce about the basilisk skin or the rune¡ªthey had no proof, and involving the Ministry might make things worse. ¡°Not really,¡± he said carefully. ¡°She was always busy with something, but I didn¡¯t think much of it.¡±


    Pierce raised an eyebrow but didn¡¯t press the point. ¡°And how would you describe her behavior in the days leading up to her disappearance? Did she seem anxious, distracted, or otherwise out of character?¡±


    Soya swallowed hard. ¡°Maybe a little distracted. But that¡¯s just how she was¡ªalways thinking about something.¡±


    Pierce nodded, his quill darting across the parchment. ¡°I see. And have you noticed anything unusual around the castle recently? Strange behavior from other students, odd occurrences¡ªanything at all?¡±


    Soya¡¯s mind flashed to Sevrin and Sage, to the rune by the lake, but he forced himself to stay calm. ¡°No, nothing like that,¡± he said, hoping his voice didn¡¯t betray him.


    Pierce studied him for a long moment before setting down the quill. ¡°Very well, Mr. Vareen. That will be all for now. Should you remember anything else, don¡¯t hesitate to inform your head of house or one of the Ministry officials.¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Soya nodded quickly, relief washing over him as Pierce dismissed him. But as he left the room, his chest felt heavier than ever. The Ministry¡¯s presence only underscored how serious things had become, and Soya couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that the worst was yet to come.


    Later that day, Davonte was called for questioning. When he returned to the Thylacea common room, his expression was grim.


    ¡°What did they ask you?¡± Soya whispered as they sat in a quiet corner.


    ¡°Same stuff as you, I¡¯m guessing,¡± Davonte replied. ¡°When we last saw Eliza, if she said anything strange, that sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°And what did you tell them?¡± Soya asked nervously.


    ¡°Not much,¡± Davonte admitted. ¡°They don¡¯t need to know about... well, you know. I just said she was her usual self, always reading and sketching. Nothing out of the ordinary.¡±


    Soya nodded, but his unease only grew. The Ministry¡¯s questions were probing, but they hadn¡¯t even scratched the surface of what he and Davonte knew. And as the days passed, Soya couldn¡¯t help but wonder how long their secrets would remain hidden.


    The days that followed were anything but normal. Soya quickly noticed the subtle but unmistakable presence of the Ministry officials, their black robes and sharp gazes a constant reminder of the scrutiny he and Davonte were under. No matter where he went¡ªclasses, the Great Hall, or even the library¡ªthere always seemed to be an official nearby, their eyes lingering just a moment too long.


    It wasn¡¯t overt, but it was enough to set Soya¡¯s nerves on edge. He avoided speaking about anything remotely suspicious, even to Davonte, and tried to keep his behavior as unremarkable as possible. But the weight of their gaze never left him.


    It began in Potions. Professor Blackthorn was midway through a demonstration on how to brew a Moonflower Elixir when Soya noticed an official standing near the back of the room. At first, he thought it was a random observation, but when the man¡¯s eyes met his for the third time in as many minutes, his heart sank.


    ¡°Soya, you¡¯re going to spill that,¡± Davonte whispered, nudging him.


    Soya snapped his focus back to his cauldron, realizing his trembling hand had tilted the ladle dangerously close to the edge. ¡°Thanks,¡± he muttered, steadying himself.


    The rest of the lesson passed uneventfully, but the tension in Soya¡¯s chest remained. When the bell rang, he hurried to pack up his things, but as he turned toward the door, he nearly collided with the same official.


    ¡°Careful there,¡± the man said, his tone light but his eyes sharp. ¡°You seem distracted, Mr. Vareen.¡±


    ¡°I¡ªI¡¯m fine,¡± Soya stammered, clutching his satchel tightly. ¡°Just tired, that¡¯s all.¡±


    The man gave a small smile, though it didn¡¯t reach his eyes. ¡°Get some rest, then. We wouldn¡¯t want you falling behind.¡±


    Soya nodded quickly and darted out of the room, his pulse racing. He didn¡¯t look back, but he could feel the official¡¯s gaze boring into his back as he left.


    At lunch, Soya barely touched his food. Davonte noticed immediately, frowning as he leaned closer. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re watching us,¡± Soya whispered, glancing around the Great Hall. Sure enough, one of the officials stood near the entrance, his arms crossed as he scanned the room.


    ¡°You think they know something?¡± Davonte asked, his voice low.


    ¡°They know we¡¯re hiding something,¡± Soya said, his stomach churning. ¡°That¡¯s what they¡¯re trained for, right? They can tell when someone¡¯s not being honest.¡±


    Davonte frowned, pushing his plate away. ¡°Well, we can¡¯t give them a reason to dig deeper. Just act normal.¡±


    ¡°Normal?¡± Soya echoed, his voice tinged with panic. ¡°How are we supposed to act normal when they¡¯re everywhere?¡±


    ¡°By not freaking out,¡± Davonte said firmly. ¡°Look, I know it¡¯s hard, but if we start acting suspicious, they¡¯ll pounce on us. Just stick to classes, keep your head down, and don¡¯t give them anything to work with.¡±


    Soya nodded reluctantly, but the anxiety gnawing at him refused to ease. He felt like a cornered animal, trapped under the unrelenting scrutiny of predators he couldn¡¯t escape.


    The tension came to a head during Herbology. Professor Willowshade had assigned the class to work in pairs, repotting Venomous Tentacula under her watchful eye. Soya and Davonte worked together, their gloves covered in dirt as they carefully transferred the writhing plant into a larger pot.


    ¡°You¡¯re being too gentle,¡± Davonte said, gripping the base of the plant firmly. ¡°You¡¯ve got to hold it steady, or it¡¯ll snap at you.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Soya muttered, his hands trembling as he tried to adjust his grip.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let it see you¡¯re scared,¡± Davonte added with a smirk. ¡°It¡¯s like a dog¡ªsmells fear.¡±


    Soya managed a weak laugh, but his focus wasn¡¯t on the plant. Across the greenhouse, another Ministry official stood near the door, his eyes flicking between the students as if cataloging their every move. When his gaze landed on Soya, the boy froze, his hands tightening around the stem of the Tentacula.


    The plant reacted immediately, lashing out with a vine that struck Soya¡¯s arm. He yelped in pain, jerking back as the vine left a shallow cut on his sleeve.


    ¡°Mr. Vareen!¡± Professor Willowshade called, hurrying over. ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°I¡ªI wasn¡¯t holding it right,¡± Soya stammered, cradling his arm. ¡°It¡¯s fine, really.¡±


    Willowshade examined the wound, her expression softening. ¡°It¡¯s just a scratch, but you must be more careful. Venomous Tentacula are highly reactive.¡±


    Soya nodded, his face burning with embarrassment as she healed the cut with a quick flick of her wand. He could feel the official¡¯s eyes on him the entire time, and when he glanced up, the man¡¯s expression was unreadable.


    As the class ended, the official approached Soya near the door. ¡°Everything all right, Mr. Vareen?¡± he asked, his tone casual but his gaze piercing.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Soya said quickly, his voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Just a mistake.¡±


    The man nodded, but there was something unsettling about the way he lingered. ¡°Be careful,¡± he said finally, his tone almost too polite. ¡°It would be a shame if you got hurt again.¡±


    Soya felt his blood run cold. The words weren¡¯t overtly threatening, but there was an underlying menace he couldn¡¯t ignore. As he walked back to the castle with Davonte, he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that the Ministry wasn¡¯t just watching them¡ªthey were waiting for them to slip up.


    The Great Hall buzzed with the usual chatter of students during dinner. The enchanted ceiling displayed a dusky sky painted in shades of deep blue and violet, with stars beginning to twinkle as the evening wore on. Soya sat at the Thylacea table, picking at his food. Across from him, Davonte was regaling a group of first-years with a dramatic retelling of their earlier Herbology mishap.


    ¡°¡­and then it whipped out like a bloody whip, aiming straight for Soya¡¯s face!¡± Davonte exclaimed, gesturing wildly. ¡°He dodged it, of course, but I had to wrestle the beast back into the pot. I¡¯m practically a hero.¡±


    The younger students laughed, though Soya could only manage a faint smile. His thoughts were elsewhere¡ªcircling around the Ministry officials, Eliza¡¯s disappearance, and the feeling that every step he took brought him closer to a truth he wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to know.


    The scrape of chairs on the stone floor drew his attention, and his gaze flicked toward the Yarramundi table. Sevrine and Sage were weaving through the crowded hall, their strides purposeful as they made their way to their seats. The chatter around the Thylacea table continued unabated, but Soya¡¯s focus sharpened when he caught the tail end of their conversation.


    ¡°¡­should¡¯ve kept her nose out of it,¡± Sevrine muttered, his voice low but audible as they passed. His sharp features were set in a faint sneer, his hands tucked casually into his robe pockets. ¡°Now look where it got her.¡±


    Sage glanced over his shoulder, his dark eyes scanning the room before he replied. ¡°We should¡¯ve been more careful. They¡¯re asking too many questions now. Even we were dragged into it.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Sevrine said with a shrug. ¡°They won¡¯t find anything. Let them chase their tails.¡±


    The words hung in the air, and Soya¡¯s breath caught in his throat. He glanced at Davonte, who had also fallen silent, his silver eyes narrowing as he watched the two boys take their seats at the Yarramundi table.


    ¡°You heard that, right?¡± Davonte whispered, leaning closer.


    Soya nodded, his hands clenching into fists under the table. ¡°They know something about Eliza,¡± he murmured, his voice barely audible. ¡°They¡­ they must.¡±


    ¡°More than ¡®must,¡¯¡± Davonte said, his voice tight with anger. ¡°They all but admitted it. And if they¡¯ve been questioned too¡­¡± He trailed off, his jaw tightening. ¡°This is bigger than we thought.¡±


    Soya¡¯s stomach churned. He felt torn between the urge to confront Sevrine and Sage then and there and the paralyzing fear of drawing more attention to himself. The memory of the Ministry officials¡¯ piercing gazes flashed through his mind, and he sank deeper into his seat.


    ¡°They won¡¯t tell us anything,¡± he said quietly, his voice tinged with defeat. ¡°And even if they did, what could we do?¡±


    Davonte frowned, his usual confidence replaced by a flicker of doubt. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he admitted. ¡°But I¡¯m not going to sit around while they smirk and scheme. We¡¯ll figure something out.¡±


    Soya wanted to believe him, but the weight of the situation felt like an anchor dragging him down. As Sevrin and Sage began eating, laughing quietly with their tablemates as though nothing was amiss, Soya couldn¡¯t help but wonder how much more he could handle¡ªand how much more the magical world would demand of him before it finally broke him.

 Chapter 13: Into the Archives

    Soya sat in the Thylacea common room, his sketchbook open in his lap. The pages were blank save for a few hesitant lines he¡¯d started and then abandoned. His pencil hovered over the paper, the usual spark of creativity absent. Instead, his thoughts churned with a familiar cocktail of fear and guilt. Eliza¡¯s absence gnawed at him, each passing day amplifying the weight of her disappearance.


    Across the room, Davonte lounged on a worn, oversized armchair, a half-eaten apple in his hand. He tilted his head, studying Soya with mock seriousness. ¡°You know, mate,¡± he began, a smirk creeping across his face, ¡°if you keep staring at that page like it insulted your mother, you might actually scare it into drawing itself.¡±


    Soya blinked, startled out of his reverie. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re brooding,¡± Davonte said, pointing the apple at him like it was a wand. ¡°It¡¯s very dramatic, very mysterious, but also very not you. I mean, we already have enough mysterious types in this castle¡ªSevrin, Sage, that one portrait of the guy with the creepy mustache¡­¡±


    Soya managed a weak smile, though his hands tightened around his pencil. ¡°I¡¯m not brooding.¡±


    Davonte raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. ¡°You¡¯ve been sitting there for half an hour and haven¡¯t drawn a thing. For you, that¡¯s practically a crisis.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just... distracted,¡± Soya muttered, closing the sketchbook with a soft thud. He leaned back against the couch, his gaze drifting to the fire crackling in the hearth. ¡°I can¡¯t stop thinking about Eliza.¡±


    Davonte¡¯s smirk faded, replaced by a more thoughtful expression. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said quietly, tossing the apple core into a nearby bin. ¡°Me too.¡±


    The room fell silent for a moment, the only sound the pop and hiss of the fire. Soya felt a lump rise in his throat as he stared at the flames. He wanted to say something¡ªanything¡ªbut the words felt heavy and awkward, tangled up with his fear.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do,¡± he admitted finally, his voice barely audible. ¡°I want to help her, but... what if I just make things worse? What if I¡ª¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t,¡± Davonte interrupted firmly. ¡°Whatever¡¯s going on, we¡¯ll figure it out. Together.¡±


    Soya glanced at him, his eyes searching for reassurance. ¡°You make it sound so easy.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not,¡± Davonte admitted, leaning forward. ¡°But sitting here doing nothing isn¡¯t helping either. Eliza wouldn¡¯t sit around if it were one of us. She¡¯d be charging headfirst into the library or dragging us into some harebrained scheme.¡±


    Soya let out a soft laugh, the memory of Eliza¡¯s relentless determination bringing a small measure of comfort. ¡°She would, wouldn¡¯t she?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely,¡± Davonte said with a grin. ¡°So let¡¯s stop brooding¡ªyes, brooding¡ªand start figuring out how to be just as annoyingly persistent as she is.¡±


    The idea of taking action filled Soya with equal parts relief and dread. He wasn¡¯t sure he had the courage to follow through, but the alternative¡ªdoing nothing while Eliza remained missing¡ªwas unbearable. He straightened slightly, the weight on his chest easing just a fraction.


    ¡°Okay,¡± he said hesitantly. ¡°Where do we start?¡±


    Davonte¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Now that¡¯s more like it. Let¡¯s start by going over what we know. Or better yet, what we don¡¯t know¡ªbecause that¡¯s a much longer list.¡±


    Soya nodded, opening his sketchbook again and flipping to a blank page. This time, it wasn¡¯t for drawing; it was for notes. As Davonte launched into his trademark rapid-fire brainstorming, Soya felt a flicker of something he hadn¡¯t felt in days: hope. It was faint and fragile, but it was there.


    After hours of Davonte¡¯s enthusiastic rambling, Soya tried his best to keep up, scribbling notes furiously in his book. However, exhaustion won out in the end. Davonte glanced over mid-sentence and noticed Soya slumped forward, fast asleep, his face pressed against the open pages. With a soft chuckle, Davonte leaned over to pick up the fallen book that had tumbled to the floor. ¡°Guess I overdid it,¡± he muttered, placing it gently back on the table before draping a blanket over Soya¡¯s shoulders.


    The next morning, sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the Great Hall, casting golden beams across the room and highlighting the soft hum of students chatting over breakfast. Soya sat quietly, absently poking at his scrambled eggs, his appetite replaced by a knot of nerves. Beside his plate lay his closed sketchbook, its weight feeling heavier than usual¡ªjust like the plan Davonte had pushed him to consider. Across the table, Davonte was scribbling furiously on a scrap of parchment, his brow furrowed with an intensity that seemed out of character for his usually cheerful demeanor.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to set the table on fire if you keep writing that fast,¡± Soya said, trying to inject some levity into his voice. It came out flat, but Davonte didn¡¯t seem to notice.


    ¡°I¡¯m refining,¡± Davonte replied, not looking up. ¡°Plans don¡¯t just make themselves, you know. This one¡¯s brilliant¡ªsimple, elegant, and with just the right amount of plausible deniability.¡±


    Soya raised an eyebrow. ¡°You mean just enough so we don¡¯t get expelled?¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Davonte said, flashing a grin. ¡°And if we pull this off, we might even look like heroes.¡±


    ¡°Or idiots,¡± Soya muttered under his breath, but Davonte heard him and only laughed.


    Eliza¡¯s absence hung over them both, unspoken but present in every word. Her seat at the table remained empty, a stark reminder of what had driven them to this point. Soya couldn¡¯t shake the image of her determined expression, her sharp eyes scanning the library for answers. It was that memory, more than anything, that kept him from backing out completely.


    ¡°You¡¯ll see,¡± Davonte said, folding the parchment with a flourish. ¡°It¡¯s foolproof. Well, mostly foolproof.¡±


    ¡°Mostly?¡± Soya asked, his voice rising slightly.


    ¡°Relax,¡± Davonte said, shoving the parchment into his pocket. ¡°We¡¯ll go over it again later. Right now, we¡¯ve got classes to get through.¡±


    Soya groaned quietly, the thought of classes feeling like an insurmountable task. But as they filed out of the Great Hall and toward their first lesson of the day, he found himself oddly grateful for the distraction.


    The morning¡¯s first class was Charms, where Professor Coorong introduced a new spell: Luminae Fluctus, a wave of light designed to disorient attackers or illuminate dark spaces. The classroom was filled with flashes of light as students practiced the spell, their voices echoing as they called out the incantation.


    ¡°Luminae Fluctus!¡± Davonte shouted, his wand emitting a burst of light that flickered uncertainly before fading.


    ¡°Not bad,¡± Professor Coorong said with a warm smile that reached his eyes. ¡°But focus on the movement¡ªsmooth, like a flowing stream.¡±


    Soya watched Davonte¡¯s next attempt, his mind elsewhere. The spell itself seemed useful, but the thought of actually needing to use it sent a shiver down his spine. When his turn came, he hesitated, his wand feeling heavier than usual in his hand.


    ¡°Luminae Fluctus,¡± he said softly, mimicking the wand movement Professor Coorong had demonstrated. A weak pulse of light emanated from his wand before fizzling out.


    ¡°Try again, Mr. Vareen,¡± Coorong said, stopping beside Soya and tilting his head slightly. "Don''t rush it. Just calm your mind and focus.¡±


    Soya nodded, forcing himself to focus. This time, the light was brighter, more sustained, but it still lacked the sharpness of his classmates¡¯ attempts. He sighed, lowering his wand as Coorong moved on to another student.


    Davonte leaned closer, his voice low. ¡°Don¡¯t sweat it, mate. You¡¯ll get it.¡±


    Soya nodded again, though his confidence remained shaky. The rest of the lesson passed uneventfully, and by the time they left the classroom, Soya¡¯s mind was back on their plan.


    As they made their way to lunch, Soya couldn¡¯t help but notice the ministry officials stationed at various points throughout the castle. They weren¡¯t overtly intimidating, but their presence was a constant reminder of the scrutiny hanging over them. He glanced at Davonte, who seemed unbothered as he joked about their earlier spellwork.


    ¡°They¡¯re watching us,¡± Soya said quietly as they entered the Great Hall.


    ¡°Let them,¡± Davonte replied, his tone light but his eyes sharp. ¡°We¡¯re not doing anything wrong. Yet.¡±


    The Great Hall was alive with its usual din¡ªstudents laughing, trading stories, and enjoying their meals. Soya and Davonte sat together, their plates barren of their usual selections.


    "I almost walked into one of them yesterday," Soya said with a nervous chuckle. "They''re kinda scary."


    ¡°Tell me about it,¡± Davonte said, leaning in slightly. ¡°I spent most of Charms today wondering if the ministry goons can read minds. Every time they looked at me, I thought, ¡®Great, they¡¯ve caught me, I¡¯m doomed.¡¯ Then again, it¡¯s probably just my natural charm that gets me so much attention.¡±


    Soya couldn¡¯t help but smile, though it quickly faded. ¡°They¡¯re not going to let up, are they?¡±


    ¡°Not a chance,¡± Davonte replied, his tone shifting to something more serious. ¡°Which is why we need to move quickly. I¡¯ve been thinking about the Whispering Archives.¡±


    Soya¡¯s stomach sank. ¡°You mean... sneaking in?¡±


    Davonte raised an eyebrow. ¡°Do you know another way to get in there without, I don¡¯t know, being a seventh-year or having a professor¡¯s permission?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just... risky,¡± Soya said, glancing nervously at the staff table where some ministry officials sat, their sharp eyes scanning the hall like hawks. ¡°What if we get caught?¡±


    ¡°Then we¡¯ll cross that bridge when we come to it,¡± Davonte said with a shrug. ¡°But think about it, Soya. If Eliza was onto something, the Archives are the most likely place she went. And if Sage and Sevrin are involved¡ª¡± He lowered his voice, leaning closer. ¡°¡ªthen there¡¯s no way they¡¯d risk leaving anything in the regular library. Whatever they¡¯re hiding, it¡¯s probably in there.¡±


    Soya wanted to argue, to point out all the ways their plan could go wrong, but Davonte¡¯s logic was hard to ignore. If Eliza had found something important, it made sense that it would be in the Whispering Archives. And if it wasn¡¯t? Well, at least they¡¯d know they had tried.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Before Soya could respond, movement caught his eye. Sevrin and Sage entered the hall, their usual confidence on full display. But something about them seemed off¡ªthey weren¡¯t their usual loud, boisterous selves. Instead, they walked with purpose, speaking quietly to each other.


    ¡°They¡¯ve been quieter since the ministry showed up,¡± Davonte observed, following Soya¡¯s gaze. ¡°You think they¡¯re nervous?¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Soya murmured. ¡°Or maybe they¡¯re just being careful.¡±


    As the two boys watched, Sevrin and Sage passed by without so much as a glance in their direction. But the tension in the air was palpable, and Soya couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that they were being watched, even as the pair settled at their house table.


    Davonte nudged him. ¡°See what I mean? They¡¯re up to something. And we¡¯re not going to figure it out by sitting here.¡±


    Soya nodded reluctantly, the fear in his chest tempered by a flicker of determination. ¡°Fine. We¡¯ll go to the Archives. But we need a plan.¡±


    ¡°Already working on it,¡± Davonte said with a grin. ¡°Meet me after curfew in the common room. And bring your wand this time¡ªI don¡¯t fancy being caught without backup.¡±


    Soya managed a small smile, though his nerves were still frayed. As they finished their meal and left the hall, he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that they were walking into something far bigger than either of them could imagine.


    The afternoon`¡¯s Transfiguration lesson with Professor Wickham had an unusual air of anticipation. The tall, stern-faced professor was known for her rigorous teaching style, but today, the rows of wooden desks had been pushed aside, making room for an open practice area in the center of the classroom.


    Professor Wickham stood at the front, her sharp features as composed as ever, though there was a glimmer of something in her eyes¡ªexcitement, perhaps? Soya wasn¡¯t sure he liked what that might mean.


    ¡°Today, we will be focusing on Forma Bestialis,¡± Professor Wickham began, her voice carrying easily across the room. ¡°This spell temporarily transforms small objects into living creatures. It requires precision, control, and an understanding of the creature you wish to create. Unlike basic transfigurations, Forma Bestialis imbues the object with magical animation, simulating life. This is not a spell to be taken lightly, and your success will depend on your focus.¡±


    A low murmur rippled through the students. Transforming objects into living creatures? Even Davonte, usually full of jokes, looked intrigued.


    Professor Wickham raised her wand, demonstrating. ¡°Observe.¡± She plucked a teacup from her desk, placed it on the ground, and pointed her wand at it with deliberate precision.


    ¡°Forma Bestialis!¡±


    The teacup shimmered, its ceramic surface rippling like water before it sprouted wings and tiny legs. Within moments, it was a delicate porcelain bird, hopping across the floor and flapping its fragile wings. The class erupted in impressed whispers.


    ¡°Now,¡± Wickham continued, silencing the chatter with a glance, ¡°you will attempt this spell yourselves. Choose an object from the selection I¡¯ve provided. Remember, the creature you envision must align with the size and shape of your object. You will not create dragons from teaspoons. Begin.¡±


    The students eagerly approached the tables lined with assorted objects¡ªquills, buttons, small stones, and the like. Soya picked up a smooth pebble, its weight reassuring in his hand.


    Beside him, Davonte grabbed a brass button. ¡°I¡¯m thinking a frog,¡± he said with a grin. ¡°What about you?¡±


    Soya hesitated, glancing at his pebble. ¡°Maybe... a mouse? If I can even manage that.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got this,¡± Davonte said encouragingly. ¡°Just picture it in your mind¡ªtiny whiskers, little paws. Easy.¡±


    As they returned to their spots, Professor Wickham circled the room, her sharp gaze observing each student as they prepared. ¡°Remember,¡± she called, ¡°visualization is key. The clearer the image in your mind, the more likely you are to succeed.¡±


    Soya took a deep breath, holding the pebble steady in his hand. He pictured a mouse¡ªsmall and gray, with twitching whiskers and a long tail. Raising his wand, he concentrated on that image and spoke clearly.


    ¡°Forma Bestialis!¡±


    The pebble glowed faintly, its surface shifting and softening. For a moment, it seemed to sprout tiny ears and a tail, but then it wavered and returned to its original form. Soya sighed, lowering his wand.


    ¡°Close,¡± Professor Wickham said, pausing beside him. Her expression was neutral, but her tone held a hint of approval. ¡°Your visualization faltered at the final step. Refocus and try again.¡±


    Encouraged, Soya tried once more, his brow furrowed in concentration. ¡°Forma Bestialis!¡±


    This time, the pebble transformed fully. A small, gray mouse sat in his hand, its tiny nose twitching as it looked up at him. Soya¡¯s face lit up with a mix of relief and pride.


    ¡°Excellent,¡± Wickham said with a nod. ¡°Well done, Mr. Vareen.¡±


    Nearby, Davonte¡¯s attempt resulted in a button that hopped like a frog but looked very much like a button. He laughed, raising his hands in mock defeat. ¡°A frog-like button. Close enough, yeah?¡±


    By the end of the lesson, the room was alive with tiny creatures¡ªbirds, frogs, mice, and even a miniature turtle. Some were more successful than others, but the energy in the room was electric. For once, even the typically stern Professor Wickham seemed pleased.


    ¡°Remember,¡± she said as the students began to pack up, ¡°transfiguration requires patience and practice. Do not attempt this spell outside of supervision until you have mastered it here. That is all for today.¡±


    As they left the classroom, Davonte turned to Soya with a grin. ¡°So, think your mouse will stay a mouse, or will you find a pebble in your pocket later?¡±


    Soya laughed, feeling a flicker of pride despite his lingering fears. For a moment, he allowed himself to enjoy the small victory.


    The rest of the day passed in a blur for Soya. Classes felt unusually long, and the watchful eyes of the ministry officials added an extra weight to the air. Though he tried to focus on the lessons, his mind kept drifting to the plan he and Davonte had hastily agreed upon earlier.


    As the final bell rang and students dispersed to their dormitories or the Great Hall for dinner, Soya found himself lingering near the Thylacea table. He picked at his food, his appetite dulled by nerves. Davonte, on the other hand, seemed unbothered, laughing and chatting as though the events of the day had been perfectly ordinary.


    ¡°Relax,¡± Davonte muttered under his breath, leaning closer so only Soya could hear. ¡°You¡¯re going to give us away with that guilty look.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not guilty,¡± Soya whispered back, though his hands betrayed him as they fidgeted with his utensils. ¡°I¡¯m just... thinking.¡±


    ¡°Then stop thinking so loudly,¡± Davonte said with a sly grin, grabbing a roll from Soya¡¯s plate. ¡°Eat something. You¡¯re going to need your energy.¡±


    Soya sighed, forcing down a few bites of stew before pushing his plate away. The bustling noise of the Great Hall seemed to press in on him, and the idea of sitting there for much longer was unbearable. He glanced at the enchanted ceiling, now reflecting the deep purples and oranges of twilight, and felt the weight of their decision settle heavily on his shoulders.


    After dinner, the students filed out of the hall, and Soya followed Davonte toward the Thylacea dormitories. They waited until the corridors emptied, their fellow housemates disappearing into their rooms for the night. The castle grew quieter, the usual hum of activity replaced by the faint creaks and groans of the ancient stone walls.


    Davonte checked the time on his enchanted pocket watch, the faint glow of its runes casting light on his determined expression. ¡°Alright,¡± he said softly, tucking the watch back into his robes. ¡°Now or never.¡±


    Soya hesitated, his heart pounding as he glanced back toward the dormitory entrance. For a brief moment, the thought of curling up in bed and pretending this wasn¡¯t happening was almost tempting. But the image of Eliza¡¯s empty seat in their classes pushed him forward.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± he said, his voice firmer than he felt.


    Davonte smirked, clapping him on the back. ¡°That¡¯s the spirit.¡±


    The castle corridors were unusually quiet after curfew, the dim light from enchanted torches casting long shadows along the stone walls. Soya and Davonte crept through the halls, their footsteps muffled by the thick rugs that lined the floors. The weight of what they were about to do hung heavily between them, though neither spoke of it.


    Soya clutched his sketchbook tightly against his chest, his mind racing. Sneaking into the Whispering Archives was more than just breaking the rules¡ªit was stepping into dangerous, uncharted territory. And yet, Eliza¡¯s absence pressed on him like a stone, its weight impossible to ignore.


    ¡°You¡¯re quiet,¡± Davonte whispered, glancing over his shoulder as they paused near the entrance to the east wing. ¡°Second thoughts?¡±


    Soya hesitated, the faint flicker of torchlight catching the uncertainty in his eyes. ¡°I just... What if we get caught?¡±


    Davonte grinned, his silver eyes gleaming mischievously. ¡°Then we run. Or better yet, I¡¯ll charm the socks off whoever finds us. Works every time.¡±


    Soya couldn¡¯t help but smile, though it was fleeting. ¡°This isn¡¯t a joke, Davonte. The Whispering Archives aren¡¯t just another section of the library¡ªthey¡¯re locked for a reason.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Davonte said, his voice soft but insistent. ¡°And that¡¯s where we¡¯ll find the answers. If Eliza went in there, maybe we can figure out what she was looking for¡ªand what got her into trouble.¡±


    The conviction in Davonte¡¯s tone stirred something in Soya. He nodded, his grip tightening on his sketchbook. ¡°Okay. Let¡¯s do this.¡±


    They moved quickly but carefully, their path taking them down narrow corridors and through hidden passages Soya hadn¡¯t even known existed. Davonte seemed to know exactly where to go, his confidence steadying Soya¡¯s nerves.


    When they finally reached the entrance to the Whispering Archives, Soya felt his stomach twist. The door was tall and imposing, its dark wood carved with intricate runes that shimmered faintly in the low light. A heavy brass lock secured the door, its mechanism glowing with a soft, magical hue.


    Davonte crouched in front of the lock, pulling out his wand. ¡°Piece of cake,¡± he muttered. ¡°I¡¯ve seen Sage unlock worse than this in class.¡±


    Soya swallowed hard, his heart pounding as he glanced nervously down the corridor. ¡°Are you sure this is a good idea?¡±


    ¡°Of course not,¡± Davonte said with a grin, pointing his wand at the lock. ¡°But when has that ever stopped us? Alohomora Maxima!¡±


    The spell emitted a faint, golden glow, and the lock clicked softly before falling open. Davonte stood, brushing imaginary dust from his robes. ¡°And they said I wasn¡¯t paying attention in Charms.¡±


    Soya gave him a wary look but said nothing as Davonte pushed the door open. The Whispering Archives were dark and silent, the air thick with the musty scent of ancient parchment. The rows of shelves stretched endlessly into the shadows, their contents hidden by the dim light.


    ¡°Stick close,¡± Davonte whispered, raising his wand. ¡°Lumos.¡±


    The faint light from the spell illuminated their immediate surroundings, casting eerie shadows on the shelves. Soya followed closely, his sketchbook clutched tightly in his arms as they ventured deeper into the forbidden section.


    The books and scrolls here were unlike anything Soya had seen in the regular library. Many were bound in materials he couldn¡¯t identify, their spines marked with symbols that seemed to shift under the light. Some were locked with chains, while others emitted faint whispers that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.


    ¡°What exactly are we looking for?¡± Soya asked, his voice barely above a whisper.


    ¡°Anything that might explain what Eliza was researching,¡± Davonte replied, scanning the titles on the shelves. ¡°If she found something important¡ªor dangerous¡ªit¡¯ll be here.¡±


    They split up, each taking a side of the aisle as they searched. Soya ran his fingers lightly over the spines of the books, his eyes darting from one title to the next. Many were written in languages he didn¡¯t recognize, their intricate scripts impossible to decipher.


    After several tense minutes, Soya¡¯s gaze fell on a thick, leather-bound book with an ornate clasp. The title, written in faded gold letters, read Serpentine Secrets: A Compendium of Basilisk Lore.


    ¡°Davonte,¡± Soya whispered, his fingers brushing the book¡¯s spine. ¡°I think I found something.¡±


    Davonte was at his side in an instant, his silver eyes narrowing as he examined the book. ¡°Good find. Let¡¯s take a look.¡±


    Soya hesitated, his hand hovering over the clasp. ¡°What if it¡¯s cursed or something?¡±


    Davonte smirked. ¡°Only one way to find out.¡± He tapped the clasp with his wand, muttering, ¡°Finite Incantatem.¡±


    The clasp glowed faintly before unlocking with a soft click. Soya opened the book carefully, its ancient pages crackling softly as he turned them. The text was dense, filled with detailed illustrations of basilisks and intricate diagrams of runes.


    ¡°This could take hours to read,¡± Soya said, his brow furrowing.


    ¡°Then we¡¯ll skim,¡± Davonte replied, leaning over his shoulder. ¡°Look for anything about summoning or unusual sightings.¡±


    They worked quickly but thoroughly, their eyes scanning the pages for any relevant information. Soya¡¯s heart raced as he came across a section titled Basilisk Control.


    ¡°This might be it,¡± he said, pointing to the page. The accompanying illustration showed a rune similar to the one they¡¯d seen by the lake.


    Davonte nodded, his expression serious. ¡°Let¡¯s copy it down and get out of here. The longer we stay, the riskier this gets.¡±


    Soya pulled out his sketchbook, carefully replicating the rune and the accompanying text. As he worked, a faint sound reached his ears¡ªa soft rustling, like the pages of a book being turned.


    He froze, his heart pounding. ¡°Did you hear that?¡± he whispered.


    Davonte¡¯s grip on his wand tightened. ¡°Yeah. We¡¯re not alone.¡±


    The boys exchanged a tense glance before extinguishing the light from their wands. They crouched behind a nearby shelf, their breaths shallow as the sound grew louder. Whatever¡ªor whoever¡ªwas in the archives with them was getting closer.

 Chapter 14: New Rules

    The faint rustling echoed through the Whispering Archives like a distant ghost. Soya¡¯s heart thudded against his ribs, his breath caught in his throat as he crouched lower behind the shelf. The dim light had vanished entirely, leaving them cloaked in near-total darkness.


    ¡°Tell me that¡¯s just some old book falling over,¡± Davonte murmured, his voice low but strained.


    ¡°Books don¡¯t move by themselves,¡± Soya whispered back, though he wasn¡¯t entirely sure that was true here.


    The sound grew louder¡ªmeasured footsteps now, soft and deliberate. Someone was coming. Soya¡¯s knuckles whitened around his sketchbook, his mind racing with panic. Had they been caught? Had the ministry sent someone to patrol?


    Soya risked a glance around the corner of the shelf. The tall silhouette of a figure stood at the far end of the aisle, their features obscured by shadow. The figure raised a wand, and a soft light illuminated the space around them.


    Soya ducked back quickly, pressing his back against the shelf as if he could disappear into it.


    ¡°Stay quiet,¡± Davonte breathed, inching closer.


    The footsteps paused. For a moment, Soya was certain the figure had heard them; the silence was deafening. Then, the voice came, calm and steady:


    ¡°You can come out, boys. There¡¯s no use hiding.¡±


    Soya froze. He knew that voice¡ªit carried with it an authority that was impossible to mistake. Slowly, he turned his head toward Davonte, who looked just as pale.


    ¡°Spellchecker,¡± Davonte mouthed.


    Boromus Spellchecker. The headmaster.


    Neither of them moved, holding onto the last sliver of hope that they might not be discovered, but the headmaster¡¯s voice came again¡ªgentler this time. ¡°Soya. Davonte. You¡¯re clever enough to sneak in here, but I expect you to be smart enough to know when it¡¯s over. Come out, now.¡±


    Davonte sighed, muttering under his breath, ¡°How does he always know?¡±


    Soya reluctantly stood, his knees shaking as he emerged from behind the shelves. Davonte followed suit, his usual grin replaced with something that looked suspiciously like guilt. The headmaster stood before them, bathed in the soft glow of his wand. His sharp gaze flickered over the boys, but to Soya¡¯s surprise, there was no anger there.


    Boromus Spellchecker studied them for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a faint sigh, he lowered his wand. ¡°You¡¯ve chosen an interesting place to spend your evening.¡±


    Soya opened his mouth, but no words came. What could he possibly say? That they¡¯d broken in out of desperation to find a missing friend? That they¡¯d discovered something far larger than they could handle?


    Beside him, Davonte scratched the back of his neck, managing a weak laugh. ¡°We, uh... got lost?¡±


    The headmaster raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. ¡°You can keep your excuses, Mr. Evander. I appreciate creativity, but not when it comes to rule-breaking.¡±


    Soya braced himself for the inevitable punishment¡ªdetention, loss of house points, maybe worse¡ªbut instead, Spellchecker turned slightly and gestured for them to follow.


    ¡°Come with me.¡±


    Soya blinked, startled. ¡°Wait, you¡¯re... you¡¯re not mad?¡±


    ¡°Mad?¡± Spellchecker echoed, glancing back at them as he began walking toward the door. ¡°No, I¡¯m not mad, Mr. Vareen. Disappointed? Perhaps. Concerned? Certainly. But anger has no place in situations like this.¡±


    Soya hesitated before falling into step beside Davonte. The headmaster¡¯s calm demeanor unnerved him more than shouting ever could.


    As they walked, Spellchecker continued speaking, his voice quiet but clear. ¡°Curiosity is a powerful force. It can drive young witches and wizards to achieve great things. But it can also lead them into dangerous places¡ªplaces they are not ready for.¡± He glanced over his shoulder, his sharp eyes fixing on Soya. ¡°You¡¯ve both stumbled into something far larger than yourselves. I can see that much.¡±


    Davonte looked like he wanted to ask a dozen questions, but Spellchecker raised a hand to forestall him. ¡°No, Mr. Evander, I will not explain everything to you. The answers you seek are not easily found, nor are they meant for children to uncover on their own.¡±


    Soya felt a pang of frustration at being called a child, but the fear in his chest outweighed his pride. ¡°But we¡¯re just trying to help,¡± he blurted before he could stop himself. ¡°Eliza¡¯s missing, and no one else is¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Spellchecker interrupted softly, and for the first time, his stern expression softened. ¡°Your loyalty to your friend is admirable, Soya. But some mysteries are not for you to solve.¡±


    Soya¡¯s throat tightened, the guilt and helplessness threatening to spill over. ¡°Then what are we supposed to do?¡±


    Spellchecker stopped walking, turning to face the boys fully. ¡°You trust. You trust your professors, your headmaster, and those far older and more experienced than you. The magical world is vast and dangerous, and while you may not believe it, we are doing everything we can.¡±


    Soya lowered his gaze, unable to meet the headmaster¡¯s eyes. It wasn¡¯t the answer he wanted. It wasn¡¯t enough.


    ¡°You may feel powerless right now,¡± Spellchecker continued, his tone kinder, ¡°but there will come a time when you¡¯ll understand your place in all of this. Until then, stay close to your friends, learn all that you can, and remember¡ªcourage does not mean acting without fear. It means acting despite it.¡±


    The words lingered in the silence, heavy but strangely comforting.


    ¡°Now,¡± Spellchecker said, gesturing toward the door, ¡°I believe it¡¯s time you both returned to your common room before I do get mad.¡±


    Davonte managed a sheepish grin. ¡°Right. On our way, Headmaster.¡±


    As they turned to leave, Soya glanced back once more. The headmaster remained standing there, his wandlight flickering against the dark shelves, as though he, too, was searching for something hidden within the shadows.


    The walk back to the Thylacea common room was tense and quiet. Soya¡¯s mind swirled with the headmaster¡¯s words, the weight of them settling like stones in his chest.


    ¡°You¡¯ve both stumbled into something far larger than yourselves.¡±


    He couldn¡¯t stop thinking about it, replaying the conversation over and over. The headmaster hadn¡¯t been angry, which was a relief, but there was something unsettling in how much he seemed to know¡ªhow much he wasn¡¯t telling them.


    Davonte, walking beside him, finally broke the silence. ¡°You know, for a guy who catches students sneaking around, he¡¯s surprisingly calm about it.¡±


    Soya glanced over at him. ¡°Calm? He made it sound like we¡¯re way out of our depth.¡±


    ¡°Well, aren¡¯t we?¡± Davonte said with a half-hearted chuckle, shoving his hands in his pockets. ¡°I mean, we¡¯re first-years trying to poke our noses into something even the ministry can¡¯t figure out.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Soya didn¡¯t answer. His fingers tightened around the strap of his sketchbook, its weight suddenly heavier than before. He couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that Spellchecker was right¡ªthey were out of their depth. And worse, Eliza had already paid the price for it.


    The stone archway leading to the Thylacea common room loomed ahead. Davonte muttered the password¡ª¡°Courage through adaptability¡±¡ªand the nearby portrait of the tasmanian devil grumbled as the wooden door creaked open to reveal the warm, wood-paneled room beyond.


    The fire in the hearth crackled quietly, and a few students were still lingering, chatting in hushed tones or poring over their homework. Soya stepped inside, grateful for the familiar comfort of the room.


    Davonte flopped down onto one of the overstuffed armchairs by the fire with a dramatic sigh. ¡°Well, that was an adventure. Not exactly the ending I¡¯d hoped for, but at least we didn¡¯t get expelled.¡±


    Soya didn¡¯t sit. Instead, he lingered near the edge of the room, staring into the flames. The flickering light danced in his peripheral vision, but his thoughts were elsewhere.


    ¡°You alright, mate?¡± Davonte¡¯s voice cut through the quiet.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Soya admitted, his voice soft. ¡°Spellchecker didn¡¯t punish us, but... he knows something. And he¡¯s not telling us. He made it sound like we just have to sit here and wait, and I¡ª¡± He stopped, his throat tight. ¡°I don¡¯t think I can do that. Not when Eliza¡¯s still out there.¡±


    Davonte leaned back in his chair, studying Soya carefully. ¡°Yeah. I get it.¡± He rubbed his hands together, his usual humor subdued. ¡°But you heard him¡ªthis isn¡¯t just some school mystery. If we push too far, we¡¯ll end up in real trouble. And if Eliza¡ª¡± He hesitated, then shook his head. ¡°If she¡¯s caught up in all this, maybe we are out of our depth.¡±


    Soya swallowed hard, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. Out of our depth. He didn¡¯t want to believe it, but the fear gnawed at him, relentless and heavy.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to give up,¡± he whispered finally. ¡°But I don¡¯t know what to do.¡±


    Davonte sighed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. ¡°We¡¯re not giving up, alright? But let¡¯s be smart about this. We¡¯ve got classes, ministry officials breathing down our necks, and professors who already know something¡¯s wrong. If we start acting like everything¡¯s normal, maybe we¡¯ll figure out a better way forward without getting caught.¡±


    Soya glanced at him, his brow furrowed. ¡°Act normal?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Davonte said with a faint grin. ¡°You know¡ªgo to class, do our homework, pretend we¡¯re just two perfectly innocent first-years who definitely didn¡¯t sneak into the Whispering Archives. Trust me, we¡¯ll think of something.¡±


    Soya let out a small, uncertain laugh. ¡°That¡¯s your plan?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a brilliant plan,¡± Davonte said, stretching his arms over his head. ¡°At least until I come up with a better one.¡±


    Soya sat down on the edge of the couch, the fire¡¯s warmth seeping into his cold fingers. As much as he wanted to argue, Davonte was right. For now, they had to keep their heads down¡ªblend in, act like nothing had happened, and wait for an opening.


    But the knot in Soya¡¯s chest refused to ease. Spellchecker¡¯s words still echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of how little control they really had.


    ¡°Some mysteries are not for you to solve.¡±


    And yet, as he stared into the flames, Soya couldn¡¯t help but wonder if he was meant to solve this one¡ªno matter how scared he was.


    The morning sunlight poured through the Great Hall¡¯s enchanted ceiling, the bright blues and golden clouds casting a serene glow over the rows of chattering students. For the first time in days, the tension in Soya¡¯s chest felt slightly lighter. Maybe it was the comfort of the familiar routine or the hum of voices that drowned out his thoughts. Davonte, of course, wasn¡¯t one for silence.


    ¡°So, mate,¡± Davonte said, scooping an impressive amount of scrambled eggs onto his plate, ¡°think we¡¯ll get anything exciting in class today? Maybe a nice spell to turn Sevrin¡¯s face green?¡±


    Soya shot him a look. ¡°You¡¯re going to get us both in trouble if you keep talking like that.¡±


    ¡°Trouble? Me?¡± Davonte feigned innocence, a piece of toast half in his mouth. ¡°I¡¯m practically a model student.¡±


    ¡°Right. A model student who drags me into forbidden archives and almost gets us caught.¡±


    Davonte grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. ¡°Admit it¡ªyou loved every second.¡±


    Before Soya could respond, a stack of letters dropped onto the table, carried by a tawny owl with a disgruntled expression. A few students groaned as the usual mix of homework reminders and family notes landed in front of them. Soya ignored the fluttering parchment, too focused on his own tangled thoughts. Today had to be normal¡ªjust another day of classes, no sneaking, no close calls.


    But normal was a relative concept at Austramore.


    Their first lesson of the day was Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Marilla. The open-air classroom overlooked the mountains, the sharp, fresh wind carrying the scent of eucalyptus. It was one of the most unusual rooms in the school¡ªno walls, only an enchanted dome to protect students from the elements.


    Professor Marilla, standing tall in her deep blue robes, had a presence that demanded attention. Today, she was smiling faintly, a sign that whatever they were learning wouldn¡¯t be dull.


    ¡°Good morning, everyone,¡± she began, her voice clear and commanding. ¡°We are moving past theory today. It¡¯s time to learn something practical¡ªand fun.¡±


    That got the students¡¯ attention. Soya sat straighter, the nervous energy that had plagued him all morning settling into cautious curiosity. Davonte leaned close, whispering, ¡°You heard her¡ªfun. We might not even lose an arm.¡±


    ¡°Today,¡± Marilla continued, ¡°we will practice Umbra Conjuris, a spell that creates a shadowy decoy. It¡¯s a useful defense against magical beasts, dueling opponents, or simply to confuse an enemy.¡±


    With a flick of her wand, she demonstrated. ¡°Umbra Conjuris!¡±


    A shadow burst forth from her feet, swirling and solidifying into a figure that looked like her, only slightly translucent. The shadow-Marilla mimicked her movements for a moment before dispersing into smoky tendrils.


    The class erupted into excited murmurs.


    ¡°You will pair up for this,¡± Marilla said, gesturing for them to spread out. ¡°One student will cast the decoy while the other tests its effectiveness. A properly conjured shadow will briefly distract, deflect, or confuse a simple jinx.¡±


    Davonte grabbed Soya¡¯s arm immediately. ¡°Partners.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know about this,¡± Soya muttered as they found an empty space. ¡°I couldn¡¯t even make a proper light yesterday.¡±


    ¡°That was yesterday,¡± Davonte replied with a grin. ¡°Today, we¡¯re shadow warriors. Come on, give it a go.¡±


    Soya took a deep breath and raised his wand. Picture it, like Marilla said. He imagined a shadowy version of himself, darker and ghost-like, standing ready to deflect an attack.


    ¡°Umbra Conjuris!¡± he said, pointing his wand downward.


    A faint puff of smoke swirled, but it dissipated before it could form.


    ¡°Almost!¡± Davonte encouraged. ¡°Try again. You need to really see it in your mind.¡±


    Soya tried to shut out the noise around him, focusing instead on the shape of himself as a shadowy decoy. His wand felt steady this time.


    ¡°Umbra Conjuris!¡±


    The smoke billowed upward, thick and dark, and this time it took shape¡ªa shadowy figure standing beside him, mimicking his stance. It wasn¡¯t perfect, its edges blurred, but it held for several seconds before dissolving.


    Davonte whooped. ¡°That¡¯s it, mate! You¡¯ve got it!¡±


    A warm feeling of accomplishment spread through Soya¡¯s chest. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was something¡ªa sign that maybe he wasn¡¯t so hopeless after all. Across the field, Professor Marilla nodded approvingly as she passed by, her sharp gaze lingering on Soya for just a moment.


    ¡°Not bad, Mr. Vareen,¡± she said. ¡°Keep practicing. Your focus will improve.¡±


    Nearby, Davonte tried his own spell. His shadow burst out in a comically exaggerated form¡ªtwice his height and far too wide. Soya snorted, unable to stop the laugh that escaped him.


    ¡°Looks like a troll version of you,¡± Soya teased.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take it,¡± Davonte replied with a satisfied grin. ¡°Shadow-me could smash a Basilisk.¡±


    By the time the class ended, Soya felt lighter than he had in days. The students filtered out of the open-air room, their chatter filled with the usual post-lesson energy. Davonte walked beside him, his wand twirling between his fingers.


    ¡°See?¡± Davonte said. ¡°You killed it today. You¡¯ve got shadow power now.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Soya replied softly, his lips tugging into a smile. For the first time in a while, he felt like maybe he could handle this world after all.


    But as they made their way toward the next class, the feeling of unease crept back in. The ministry officials still lingered in the corridors, their watchful eyes catching every movement. And despite the success of the morning, Eliza¡¯s absence loomed like a shadow Soya couldn¡¯t dispel.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Davonte said, as if sensing his friend¡¯s thoughts. ¡°We¡¯ll figure this out.¡±


    Soya nodded, forcing himself to believe it.


    But the nagging feeling in his chest remained, whispering that the shadows they were chasing were far more dangerous than they realized.


    The Great Hall was unusually subdued as the students filed in for dinner that evening. The usual cheerful hum of conversation was quieter, replaced by hushed whispers and stolen glances. Even the enchanted ceiling, which typically reflected the outside sky, seemed darker¡ªheavy clouds rolling slowly across its expanse. Soya didn¡¯t need to ask why. The tension that had been building all week now hung in the air like a storm about to break.


    Soya and Davonte sat at the Thylacea table, their plates barely touched. Davonte tapped his fork rhythmically against the edge of his plate, his restless energy radiating out. ¡°What¡¯s with everyone? You¡¯d think someone declared broccoli illegal or something.¡±


    Soya glanced around the hall, noticing the way students were shifting in their seats, looking up at the staff table where Boromus Spellchecker now stood. The headmaster¡¯s expression was grave, his usually sharp eyes softer but no less serious.


    ¡°Something¡¯s about to happen,¡± Soya murmured.


    ¡°Guess we¡¯re about to find out,¡± Davonte replied, dropping his fork with a clatter.


    A hush fell over the room as the headmaster raised his hand, a gesture so simple yet commanding. Every student, from the eldest seventh-years to the youngest first-years, fell silent, their eyes fixed on him.


    ¡°Good evening, students,¡± Spellchecker began, his deep voice carrying across the hall with ease. ¡°I won¡¯t keep you from your dinner long, but it is time to address some matters of concern. As many of you have no doubt noticed, there have been changes within the castle of late. Changes that, while temporary, are for your safety.¡±


    A ripple of murmurs broke through, quickly silenced by the headmaster¡¯s glance.


    ¡°Due to recent events,¡± he continued, ¡°new rules will be in effect beginning tonight. For the time being, no student is permitted to be outside of their house common rooms past sunset unless accompanied by a professor or a prefect.¡±


    The whispers started again, louder this time. Soya felt his stomach sink as the weight of the announcement hit him. Sunset? That was a massive restriction. Even first-years had some freedom to wander the halls in the evenings. This was different¡ªfar stricter than anything he¡¯d seen so far.


    ¡°Furthermore,¡± Spellchecker said, his tone brooking no argument, ¡°patrols will be increased, and any students found disregarding this rule will face severe consequences. The safety of every student at Austramore is my highest priority, and while I cannot discuss the specifics, I ask you all to trust in your professors and the Ministry officials who remain on-site.¡±


    Soya exchanged a glance with Davonte, whose brows had furrowed deeply. Around them, the conversations swelled again¡ªsome confused, some angry, others frightened.


    ¡°I knew it,¡± Davonte whispered under his breath. ¡°They¡¯re not telling us something.¡±


    Soya swallowed hard, looking up at the headmaster. Spellchecker¡¯s gaze passed over the hall, landing briefly¡ªjust briefly¡ªon Soya himself. It was only for a second, but it was enough to send a chill down his spine. The headmaster knew. He always knew.


    The headmaster¡¯s voice rang out again, firm but calm. ¡°Now, I trust you will all take these measures seriously. We must be vigilant and cautious in uncertain times. But let me also say this¡ªAustramore has stood for centuries. It has seen storms far greater than this, and it has weathered them all. As long as we stand together, as a school and as a family, we will endure.¡±


    With that, he gave a small nod and returned to his seat at the center of the staff table. The enchanted ceiling above seemed to brighten faintly, the dark clouds parting just enough to reveal glimpses of starlight.


    But for Soya, the atmosphere didn¡¯t feel any lighter. Around him, the other students were already talking in low, frantic voices, speculating about what had caused such drastic measures. He caught snippets here and there¡ª¡°Eliza¡¯s disappearance,¡± ¡°the ministry wouldn¡¯t be here if it wasn¡¯t serious,¡± ¡°something¡¯s hunting the students¡±¡ªbut no one seemed to have answers.


    Davonte let out a low whistle, shaking his head. ¡°Sunset curfew, huh? They¡¯re practically locking us in.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s for safety,¡± Soya said quietly, though the words felt hollow even as he said them. His mind was racing, trying to piece it all together. This was more than just Eliza. Spellchecker¡¯s warnings, the basilisk in the grove, Sage and Sevrin¡¯s involvement¡ªit was all part of something bigger.


    And yet, no one was telling them the whole truth.


    ¡°Yeah, well, it won¡¯t stop us, right?¡± Davonte said, trying to sound casual, but his voice carried a sharper edge. ¡°We¡¯re still going to figure this out. If anything, this just means we¡¯re getting close.¡±


    Soya stared down at his plate, his appetite completely gone. He wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe they could help Eliza, uncover the truth, and stay ahead of whatever storm was coming. But as he listened to the worried voices all around him, all he could think about was how much bigger this was than them.


    And how small he still felt.

 Chapter 15: Castle Breach

    The soft morning light streamed through the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, casting a warm glow across the rows of tables. Soya sat at the Thylacea table, absently pushing scrambled eggs around his plate with a fork. Around him, the hum of students chatting and laughing filled the air, but his mind was elsewhere, still turning over the events of the past few days.


    Davonte, seated across from him, glanced up from a particularly large stack of pancakes. ¡°You¡¯re brooding again, mate,¡± he said, his tone light but pointed.


    ¡°I¡¯m not brooding,¡± Soya replied, though his lack of conviction betrayed him. He stabbed at a piece of sausage and took a half-hearted bite.


    ¡°You are,¡± Davonte insisted, gesturing with his fork. ¡°I know the look. It¡¯s the same one you had when we nearly got caught in the Archives. Or when Spellchecker gave that speech last night. Which, by the way, was pure theatrical brilliance.¡±


    Soya managed a faint smile. ¡°I¡¯m just... thinking.¡±


    ¡°Dangerous habit, that,¡± Davonte quipped, taking another bite of pancake. ¡°What¡¯s on your mind? Eliza? The Archives? Or are you mentally preparing yourself to survive Blackthorn¡¯s Potions class? Because, mate, I¡¯ve got bad news¡ªno amount of preparation can save us from his mood swings.¡±


    Soya shook his head, setting his fork down. ¡°It¡¯s everything, really. The ministry officials, Eliza, the Archives... It¡¯s like everything¡¯s piling up, and I can¡¯t make sense of any of it.¡±


    Davonte leaned forward, his silver eyes sharp. ¡°Well, here¡¯s a thought¡ªstop trying to make sense of it all at once. One thing at a time. First, eat something. You¡¯re going to need your strength if we¡¯re dealing with cauldron explosions before lunch.¡±


    Soya raised an eyebrow. ¡°You think Blackthorn¡¯s in one of those moods today?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely,¡± Davonte said with a grin. ¡°I saw him in the corridor yesterday¡ªhe was muttering about first-years ruining his pristine workspace. I¡¯d say we¡¯re in for a long lesson.¡±


    Before Soya could reply, a tawny owl swooped down, dropping a letter in front of a student further down the table. The sight of the owl brought a pang of unease to Soya¡¯s chest¡ªa reminder of how quickly things could change with just a single piece of parchment.


    ¡°Morning mail¡¯s always so dramatic,¡± Davonte remarked, following Soya¡¯s gaze. ¡°Bet you half the letters are just parents complaining about how much their kids are spending at Fernwick.¡±


    The comment drew a small laugh from Soya, easing the knot of tension in his chest. ¡°You¡¯re probably right.¡±


    ¡°Of course I am,¡± Davonte said, leaning back with an air of mock confidence. ¡°But seriously, mate, you¡¯ve got to loosen up. Stressing isn¡¯t going to solve anything.¡±


    Soya nodded, though the weight of his thoughts lingered. He glanced around the Great Hall, taking in the familiar sights¡ªthe banners of the four houses swaying gently, the professors chatting at the head table, and the occasional burst of laughter from nearby groups of students. It was comforting, in a way, to see that life at Austramore carried on, even when everything felt uncertain.


    As breakfast wound down, Davonte stretched and stood, tossing an apple into the air before catching it with a flourish. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s face the day. Blackthorn¡¯s first, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Soya said, rising to his feet and grabbing his bag. He glanced at the Thylacea banner one last time before following Davonte toward the exit. ¡°Let¡¯s just hope he¡¯s not testing antidotes again. Last time was bad enough.¡±


    Davonte grinned over his shoulder. ¡°Oh, he will. And when he does, you¡¯d better volunteer, mate. I¡¯m counting on you to save me from drinking something that turns my skin blue.


    The potions classroom was as foreboding as ever. The cold, stone walls were lined with shelves containing jars of unidentifiable ingredients, their contents suspended in viscous liquids that glimmered faintly in the dim light. Professor Blackthorn¡¯s voice boomed as he paced at the front of the room, his long, dark robes swirling behind him like a storm.


    ¡°Today,¡± he announced, his tone clipped, ¡°we will begin work on a Petrification Potion. While its practical uses are limited, its properties are a vital study in understanding advanced potion-making.¡±


    Soya and Davonte exchanged a glance. Davonte muttered, ¡°Limited uses? Sounds like he¡¯s had personal experience.¡±


    ¡°Eyes forward, Mr. Evander,¡± Blackthorn snapped without looking, his sharp hearing catching the whisper. Davonte straightened immediately, stifling a grin as Soya suppressed a laugh.


    ¡°Now,¡± Blackthorn continued, his sharp gaze sweeping over the class, ¡°this potion is highly delicate. One misstep, and your brew will be entirely ineffective¡ªor worse, dangerous. Follow my instructions exactly, and we might make it through this lesson without a catastrophic failure.¡±


    The instructions appeared on the board in Blackthorn¡¯s elegant handwriting, detailing a complex process involving crushed mandrake root, powdered moonstone, and a handful of basilisk scales. The class buzzed with quiet murmurs as students gathered their ingredients and set to work.


    Soya measured his ingredients carefully, his hands steady despite the rising tension in the room. Beside him, Davonte was decidedly less focused, muttering under his breath as he struggled to crush the mandrake root into a fine enough powder.


    ¡°This stuff¡¯s harder than it looks,¡± Davonte whispered, his pestle slipping slightly in the mortar.


    ¡°Let me help,¡± Soya said, taking the mortar and expertly grinding the root into the desired consistency. ¡°There. Just keep stirring clockwise when you add it, or it¡¯ll ruin the potion.¡±


    Davonte gave him an exaggerated look of relief. ¡°Thanks, mate. I¡¯d say I owe you, but let¡¯s face it¡ªyou¡¯d have done this anyway.¡±


    ¡°Focus, gentlemen!¡± Blackthorn¡¯s sharp voice cut through the room, making both boys snap back to their cauldrons. The professor stood at the front, his arms crossed and his piercing eyes darting over the students¡¯ progress. ¡°And remember, the moonstone powder must be added slowly¡ªtoo quickly, and you risk destabilizing the entire mixture.¡±


    Soya carefully followed the instructions, feeling a small surge of satisfaction as his potion began to shimmer with the faint silver glow Blackthorn had described. Davonte¡¯s potion, however, was a dull gray, and he was frantically stirring to no avail.


    ¡°Uh, Soya? A little help here?¡± Davonte muttered, shooting his friend a pleading look.


    Before Soya could respond, the classroom door creaked open, and Professor Wickham stepped inside. Her presence was a stark contrast to Blackthorn¡¯s dark and imposing demeanor¡ªtall, composed, and calm, with a sharpness in her eyes that rivaled his.


    ¡°Blackthorn,¡± she said, her voice low but urgent. ¡°A word.¡±


    The potions professor¡¯s expression darkened, but he nodded curtly. ¡°Class, continue with your work. I will return shortly.¡±


    The room buzzed with unease as Blackthorn and Wickham stepped into the corridor, their voices muffled but clearly tense. Soya glanced at Davonte, who shrugged and returned to stirring his gray potion with renewed determination.


    The minutes dragged on, and the tension in the classroom grew. Whispers spread among the students, speculation ranging from a dangerous experiment gone wrong to another incident involving the ministry officials.


    When Blackthorn returned, his expression was unreadable, but there was an undeniable urgency in his movements. He strode to the front of the room and clapped his hands, silencing the chatter instantly.


    ¡°Class is dismissed early today,¡± he announced, his tone leaving no room for argument. ¡°Leave your cauldrons untouched. Your potions will be evaluated at the beginning of the next lesson.¡±Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    The students hesitated, exchanging glances, but Blackthorn¡¯s piercing gaze left no room for protest. They began gathering their things, the usual post-class chatter muted by curiosity and unease.


    As Soya packed his bag, he caught sight of Davonte¡¯s furrowed brow. ¡°Think it¡¯s about the ministry?¡± Soya asked quietly.


    ¡°Could be,¡± Davonte replied, his voice low. ¡°Or something worse.¡±


    They filed out with the rest of the students, the air thick with unanswered questions. Whatever had drawn Blackthorn away, it was clear that something important¡ªand possibly dangerous¡ªwas unfolding within the castle walls.


    The courtyard was quiet, its cobblestone paths dappled with the late-morning sunlight filtering through the towering eucalyptus trees. This particular section of the courtyard was rarely used, its isolation making it a favored spot for students seeking solitude¡ªor, in Soya and Davonte¡¯s case, secrecy.


    ¡°This place is perfect,¡± Davonte said, dropping his bag onto the ground and pulling out his wand. ¡°No nosy prefects, no ministry goons, and no Blackthorn breathing down our necks.¡±


    Soya glanced around nervously, his fingers brushing the edge of his sketchbook. ¡°Are you sure we should be practicing spells out here? If someone catches us¡ª¡±


    ¡°Relax,¡± Davonte interrupted, grinning. ¡°We¡¯re not doing anything illegal. Just brushing up on some basics. Besides, if we¡¯re going to figure out what¡¯s going on, we need to be prepared.¡±


    Soya hesitated but nodded, drawing his own wand. He couldn¡¯t deny that Davonte had a point. The events of the past weeks had left him feeling helpless, and if practicing a few spells could help him regain some sense of control, it was worth the risk.


    ¡°What spell are we starting with?¡± Soya asked, trying to keep his voice steady.


    ¡°Let¡¯s warm up with Umbra Conjuris,¡± Davonte suggested, twirling his wand. ¡°You got the hang of it last time, but it wouldn¡¯t hurt to make it more solid.¡±


    Soya nodded, taking a deep breath as he focused on his wand. The memory of his successful attempt in Defense Against the Dark Arts gave him a small boost of confidence. He pictured the shadowy decoy in his mind, dark and fluid but strong.


    ¡°Umbra Conjuris,¡± he said firmly, his wand pointed downward.


    A shadow erupted from his feet, swirling upward and taking the vague shape of a person. It wasn¡¯t perfect¡ªthe edges were still a little blurred¡ªbut it held its form for several moments before dissipating.


    ¡°Nice!¡± Davonte said, clapping him on the shoulder. ¡°Getting better already.¡±


    Before Soya could respond, Davonte raised his wand. ¡°Alright, my turn. Umbra Conjuris!¡±


    The shadow that emerged was far more erratic, its edges flickering like smoke in a strong wind. It lasted only a few seconds before collapsing into nothingness. Davonte frowned, tilting his head.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s embarrassing,¡± he muttered. ¡°Guess I need more practice.¡±


    Soya managed a small laugh, but his amusement was short-lived. A faint sound¡ªa low, distant rumble¡ªreached his ears, sending a chill down his spine.


    ¡°Did you hear that?¡± he asked, lowering his wand.


    Davonte paused, his brow furrowing. ¡°Hear what?¡±


    Before Soya could answer, the rumble came again, louder this time. It wasn¡¯t the sound of thunder or wind, but something heavier¡ªlike stone shifting under immense weight. The boys exchanged a glance, their wands instinctively raised.


    ¡°Let¡¯s check it out,¡± Davonte said, his voice hushed but excited.


    ¡°Are you serious?¡± Soya hissed, his nerves on edge. ¡°What if it¡¯s something dangerous?¡±


    ¡°Then it¡¯s something we need to know about,¡± Davonte replied, already moving toward the sound. ¡°Come on, don¡¯t be a coward.¡±


    Soya gritted his teeth, clutching his wand tightly as he followed. The sound grew louder with each step, drawing them toward the far end of the courtyard where the castle wall met the edge of the surrounding forest. The air seemed heavier here, the usual chatter of birds and rustling leaves conspicuously absent.


    And then they saw it.


    A massive hole gaped in the castle wall, jagged edges of stone jutting out like broken teeth. The opening was large enough for a grown man to walk through without ducking, and beyond it, the dense shadows of the forest loomed.


    Davonte let out a low whistle, his usual humor replaced by genuine awe. ¡°Well, that¡¯s... not normal.¡±


    Soya stared at the hole, his mind racing. The castle walls were enchanted, reinforced with layers of protective magic. Something¡ªor someone¡ªhad broken through, and it wasn¡¯t a small feat.


    ¡°What could have done this?¡± Soya whispered, his voice barely audible.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Davonte said, stepping closer to examine the edges of the hole. ¡°But whatever it was, it wasn¡¯t subtle.¡±


    Soya¡¯s eyes darted around the courtyard, half-expecting something to emerge from the shadows. ¡°We should tell someone,¡± he said, his voice shaky. ¡°The headmaster, or¡ª¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Davonte interrupted, crouching near the base of the hole. He pointed to the ground, where faint marks were etched into the dirt¡ªlong, claw-like gouges that trailed off into the forest. ¡°Look at this.¡±


    Soya knelt beside him, his breath catching as he studied the marks. They were deep and uneven, as if something massive had dragged itself¡ªor been dragged¡ªthrough the opening.


    ¡°Those look like claw marks,¡± Soya said, his voice trembling. ¡°What kind of creature could do this?¡±


    Davonte¡¯s expression darkened, the usual lightness in his eyes replaced by a seriousness Soya rarely saw. ¡°I don¡¯t know. But if this thing got into the castle...¡±


    He didn¡¯t finish the sentence. He didn¡¯t need to. The implications were clear enough.


    Soya¡¯s grip on his wand tightened, his mind swirling with questions and fears. The hole in the wall was more than just a mystery¡ªit was a threat. And whatever had caused it was still out there.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Davonte said, standing and brushing the dirt off his hands. ¡°We need to figure out what we¡¯re dealing with before anyone else gets hurt.¡±


    Soya nodded reluctantly, the weight of the discovery settling heavily on his shoulders. As they turned to leave, he cast one last glance at the hole, its dark edges seeming to whisper promises of danger yet to come.


    The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the corridors as the announcement spread like wildfire. Students clustered together in nervous groups, their voices hushed but tinged with fear. The towering stone walls of Austramore, usually a symbol of safety, now felt oppressively close.


    Soya and Davonte stood frozen in the courtyard, the image of the massive hole in the wall still fresh in their minds. The sudden, urgent toll of the castle¡¯s enchanted bells shattered their thoughts, the deep chime reverberating through the air.


    ¡°That¡¯s not good,¡± Davonte muttered, his usual bravado slipping.


    A prefect, her face pale but composed, appeared at the entrance to the courtyard. ¡°You two!¡± she barked, her voice sharp. ¡°Get to your common room immediately. The school is going into lockdown.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Soya asked, his voice trembling despite his best efforts to appear calm.


    The prefect hesitated, her gaze flickering toward the forest beyond the courtyard. ¡°No questions. Just move.¡±


    Soya exchanged a nervous glance with Davonte before nodding. They joined the stream of students being shepherded through the halls, the air thick with unspoken fear. The prefects and professors guided them with firm but calm instructions, their wands drawn but held low to avoid drawing too much attention.


    In the Great Hall, Headmaster Spellchecker stood at the staff table, his presence commanding even in the midst of chaos. As students filtered in, his voice amplified over the noise, cutting through the tension like a blade.


    ¡°Students, please remain calm,¡± he said, his tone steady but leaving no room for argument. ¡°You are to return to your common rooms immediately, where you will be supervised by your prefects and house heads. No student is to leave their dormitory under any circumstances until further notice.¡±


    A ripple of murmurs spread through the hall, but Spellchecker raised a hand, silencing them.


    ¡°This is a precautionary measure,¡± he continued, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd. ¡°The situation is under control, and there is no need for panic. Trust in your professors to ensure your safety.¡±


    Soya couldn¡¯t help but notice the subtle tension in Spellchecker¡¯s posture, the way his wand remained in his hand even as he spoke. Whatever was happening, it was serious.


    The students were divided into groups by house, each escorted by a professor or a prefect. As the Thylacea students gathered near their designated prefect, Soya felt the weight of the situation settle heavily on his chest. He glanced at Davonte, who had gone uncharacteristically quiet, his usual smirk replaced with a tight-lipped frown.


    The journey to the common room was tense, the usual chatter of students replaced with hushed whispers. Soya¡¯s mind raced with questions. Was this connected to the hole in the wall? To the claw marks they¡¯d seen? And why had the headmaster avoided giving them a direct explanation?


    When they finally reached the entrance to the Thylacea common room, the prefect muttered the password, and the wooden door creaked open. Inside, the usually warm and inviting space felt stifling. The younger students huddled together on the couches, their wide eyes reflecting the fear they couldn¡¯t voice. The older students, though calmer, wore expressions of unease.


    Davonte sank into one of the armchairs by the fire, rubbing his temples. ¡°This isn¡¯t just a precaution,¡± he muttered, low enough that only Soya could hear. ¡°Something¡¯s down there.¡±


    Soya sat beside him, his fingers clutching his sketchbook tightly. ¡°A basilisk,¡± he whispered, the word feeling heavy and forbidden. ¡°It has to be.¡±


    Davonte nodded grimly. ¡°And if it¡¯s in the lower levels... it¡¯s only a matter of time before it finds its way up here.¡±


    Soya¡¯s stomach twisted at the thought. The image of the hole in the wall flashed in his mind, along with the claw marks leading into the forest. As his thoughts churned, something didn¡¯t add up.


    ¡°But if it is a basilisk,¡± Soya said slowly, ¡°it couldn¡¯t have made those claw marks. Basilisks don¡¯t have claws.¡±


    Davonte¡¯s eyes widened slightly, his brows knitting together. ¡°You¡¯re right. Those marks were deep¡ªlike something big dragged itself through the wall. Something with claws.¡±


    ¡°Which means...¡± Soya hesitated, the words catching in his throat. ¡°There¡¯s something else. Something bigger.¡±


    The realization hit them both like a punch to the gut. If a basilisk was loose in the castle and something else had created the damage, then whatever was happening wasn¡¯t just dangerous¡ªit was catastrophic.


    Davonte leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his voice low and serious. ¡°So we¡¯ve got a basilisk, something with claws, and a hole in the wall that no one¡¯s talking about. Whatever this is, it¡¯s not just a random attack.¡±


    ¡°And if the professors can¡¯t stop it?¡± Soya asked, his voice trembling.


    Davonte didn¡¯t answer immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than usual. ¡°Then we¡¯re all in serious trouble.¡±


    The flickering firelight cast long shadows on the walls, amplifying the tension in the room. Soya stared into the flames, his mind racing. For now, all they could do was wait¡ªand hope the walls of Austramore were strong enough to hold against whatever was coming.

 Chapter 16: Horrormore

    The Thylacea common room was quiet, the usual hum of conversation subdued by the weight of the lockdown. Soya shifted uneasily in his seat, his fingers idly tracing the edge of his sketchbook. Davonte, lounging across from him, tossed a small rubber ball into the air and caught it repeatedly, the soft thud breaking the silence.


    Soya glanced toward the door, hesitating before finally speaking. ¡°I need to use the restroom.¡±


    Davonte caught the ball mid-air and raised an eyebrow. ¡°You know we¡¯re not supposed to leave the common room.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Soya said, already feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up his neck. ¡°But I can¡¯t exactly hold it all night.¡±


    Davonte smirked, leaning forward. ¡°Alright, but you¡¯re not going alone. Spellchecker¡¯s speech made it pretty clear wandering off isn¡¯t a good idea. Let¡¯s find a prefect.¡±


    Before Soya could protest, Davonte was already on his feet, stretching dramatically as he made his way toward the prefect¡¯s corner. Thalia Greaves, one of the older Thylacea students and their current prefect on duty, was seated by the fireplace, poring over a thick tome. She glanced up as they approached, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly.


    ¡°Something you need?¡± she asked, her voice clipped but not unkind.


    ¡°Soya here needs the facilities,¡± Davonte said with a casual shrug. ¡°And I figured we¡¯d do things by the book, seeing as we¡¯re such model students.¡±


    Thalia sighed, closing her book with a soft thud. ¡°Alright. Second-floor bathrooms are the closest. Just stick together and don¡¯t wander off. I¡¯ll escort you.¡±


    Davonte grinned. ¡°You¡¯re the best, Thalia.¡±


    ¡°Save it,¡± she said, standing and grabbing her wand. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    The three of them left the common room, the heavy wooden door creaking shut behind them. The corridors were eerily silent, the usual clatter of footsteps and chatter absent. The torches lining the walls flickered softly, casting long shadows that danced across the stone.


    ¡°You¡¯d think they¡¯d at least tell us why we¡¯re locked down,¡± Davonte muttered as they walked, his voice low but carrying in the stillness. ¡°It¡¯s not like we¡¯re going to panic or anything.¡±


    Thalia shot him a look. ¡°It¡¯s not our place to question the headmaster¡¯s decisions. Our job is to follow instructions and stay safe.¡±


    Davonte opened his mouth to respond but thought better of it, settling for a theatrical eye roll instead. Soya kept quiet, his nerves on edge as they made their way down the corridor.


    When they reached the second floor, the faint sound of dripping water echoed through the air. The bathroom door loomed ahead, its carved wood polished to a faint sheen.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Thalia said, stopping just outside. ¡°Make it quick.¡±


    Soya nodded, hurrying inside while Davonte lingered in the doorway. The bathroom was dimly lit, the stone walls damp with condensation. As Soya made his way to the nearest stall, he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that the silence outside wasn¡¯t natural¡ªthat something was watching, waiting just beyond their sight.


    When he finished and stepped back into the corridor, Davonte was leaning casually against the wall, twirling his wand. ¡°Took you long enough.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s get back,¡± Soya said, his voice tight. ¡°This place gives me the creeps.¡±


    Thalia nodded in agreement, her expression unreadable as she led them back toward the common room. But as they walked, Soya couldn¡¯t shake the unease settling in his chest, like the castle itself was holding its breath.


    The corridor plunged into darkness so suddenly that it left Soya reeling. One moment, the warm glow of the torches lit the path ahead, and the next, their light was snuffed out, leaving nothing but an oppressive black void. Soya froze in place, his breath catching as he reached instinctively for the nearest wall.


    ¡°What just happened?¡± Davonte¡¯s voice cut through the silence, low but tight with unease.


    ¡°I¡ªI don¡¯t know,¡± Soya stammered, his fingers brushing against cold stone. His eyes strained to adjust, but the darkness was absolute, swallowing even the faintest glimmer of light.


    ¡°Thalia?¡± Davonte called, his tone louder now, laced with an edge of panic. ¡°You still there?¡±


    No answer came. Only silence, vast and heavy.


    A low, guttural noise echoed from somewhere deep within the walls, sending a shiver racing down Soya¡¯s spine. It wasn¡¯t the sound of footsteps or the creak of old wood¡ªit was something else entirely, a vibration that seemed to hum through the air itself.


    ¡°Davonte,¡± Soya whispered, his voice trembling, ¡°what¡¯s happening?¡±


    Before Davonte could reply, another sound joined the first: a faint whispering, so soft it was almost imperceptible. It came from everywhere and nowhere at once, filling the corridor with an eerie cadence. The words were unintelligible, their syllables jagged and sharp, like shards of glass scraping together.


    ¡°Do you hear that?¡± Soya asked, his pulse hammering in his ears.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Davonte replied, his voice unnaturally quiet. ¡°But I can¡¯t understand it. It¡¯s like... like it¡¯s not meant for us.¡±


    The whispers grew louder, overlapping in a chaotic symphony that seemed to close in around them. Soya reached out blindly, his fingers brushing against fabric¡ªDavonte¡¯s sleeve. He gripped it tightly, the small connection grounding him against the rising tide of fear.


    ¡°We need to move,¡± Davonte said, his tone urgent. ¡°Find Thalia or anyone who can tell us what¡¯s going on.¡±


    Soya nodded, though he doubted Davonte could see him. Together, they began to edge forward, their movements slow and cautious. The darkness felt alive, pressing in on them from all sides. Every step seemed to echo louder than the last, the sound bouncing back unnaturally from the unseen walls.


    And then, a faint scuttling noise broke through the whispers. It was distant at first, almost indistinguishable from the other strange sounds. But it grew steadily louder, closer, until it seemed to come from right behind them.


    ¡°Run,¡± Davonte hissed, his voice barely audible over the cacophony.


    Soya didn¡¯t need to be told twice. He bolted forward, his feet pounding against the stone floor. He could hear Davonte running beside him, his breathing ragged and quick. The corridor felt endless, the darkness unyielding, as if the walls themselves were shifting to trap them.


    ¡°Left!¡± Davonte shouted suddenly, grabbing Soya¡¯s arm and yanking him to the side. They skidded into another hallway, but the whispers followed, their dissonant tones swelling into a feverish crescendo.


    A sharp, metallic clang echoed somewhere ahead, like a door slamming shut. Soya stumbled, nearly losing his footing, but Davonte caught him, steadying him just long enough for them to keep moving.


    The scuttling noise was louder now, accompanied by a low growl that vibrated through the stone beneath their feet. It wasn¡¯t human¡ªcouldn¡¯t be¡ªand the realization made Soya¡¯s chest tighten with panic.


    ¡°Davonte,¡± Soya gasped, his voice shaking, ¡°what if we can¡¯t¡ª¡±This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    ¡°Don¡¯t think like that,¡± Davonte interrupted, his grip on Soya¡¯s arm firm. ¡°We¡¯re getting out of this. Just keep moving.¡±


    The whispers began to thin, their chaotic chorus receding into the distance. But the darkness remained, impenetrable and suffocating. Soya¡¯s lungs burned, his legs aching with every step, but he forced himself to push forward. He couldn¡¯t stop¡ªnot now.


    Finally, they rounded another corner and collided with something solid. Soya stumbled back, his heart leaping into his throat.


    ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± Davonte demanded, raising his wand instinctively.


    A flicker of light sparked in the darkness¡ªa faint, golden glow that illuminated a figure slumped against the wall. It was Thalia. Her face was pale, her breaths shallow, and her wand lay forgotten at her side.


    ¡°Thalia!¡± Soya exclaimed, dropping to his knees beside her. ¡°Are you alright? What happened?¡±


    Her eyes fluttered open, but her gaze was unfocused. ¡°The... whispers,¡± she murmured, her voice barely audible. ¡°They... they weren¡¯t...¡±


    ¡°Weren¡¯t what?¡± Davonte pressed, his expression taut with worry. ¡°What did you see?¡±


    But before Thalia could answer, the faint glow of her wand extinguished, plunging them back into darkness. And with it came the whispers again, louder and more menacing than before.


    The whispers cut off suddenly, leaving the corridor in an eerie, oppressive silence. Soya froze, his heart hammering in his chest as his eyes strained against the darkness. Even without the whispers, the air felt charged, like a storm about to break. Davonte knelt beside Thalia, trying to rouse her fully, but Soya couldn¡¯t focus on anything but the unnatural quiet.


    And then, faintly at first, came the sound.


    A scraping noise, like claws dragging across stone, echoed from the end of the hallway. It was deliberate, unhurried, each scratch sending a shiver down Soya¡¯s spine. He turned his head toward the source, his breath catching as he gripped his wand tighter.


    ¡°Do you hear that?¡± he whispered, barely audible.


    Davonte looked up, his face pale. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said, his voice low. ¡°And I don¡¯t think we want to meet whatever¡¯s making it.¡±


    The scraping grew louder, accompanied by a deep, guttural sound¡ªhalf growl, half hiss¡ªthat reverberated through the corridor. The creature was close. Too close.


    Soya¡¯s stomach twisted as a massive shadow began to stretch across the floor, cast by some unseen light. It moved unnaturally, the edges of its form twisting and writhing like smoke. And then, slowly, it came into view.


    The creature emerged from around the corner, its movements deliberate and predatory. It was massive, easily towering over the tallest professor at Austramore. Its body was lean and sinewy, covered in coarse, jet-black fur that seemed to shimmer faintly in the dark. Its limbs were unnaturally long, with powerful shoulders that rippled as it moved. Each of its feet ended in enormous, curved claws that scraped against the stone with every step.


    But it was the creature¡¯s head that sent a wave of icy fear through Soya¡¯s veins. Its face was elongated, like that of a distorted canine, but its jaws were unnervingly wide, lined with rows of jagged, translucent teeth that glowed faintly like moonlight on water. Its eyes were even worse¡ªlarge and lidless, a vivid, sickly yellow that seemed to pierce straight through the soul.


    Two jagged, spiraling horns protruded from its head, twisting back like those of a ram, but their surfaces were covered in faintly glowing runes. The markings pulsed rhythmically, as if the creature itself were alive with some ancient, dark magic.


    ¡°What... is that?¡± Davonte whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own breathing.


    Soya couldn¡¯t speak. His entire body was frozen, every instinct screaming at him to run, but his legs refused to obey. The creature turned its head toward them, its glowing eyes narrowing as it inhaled deeply, its nostrils flaring. It had caught their scent.


    The low growl turned into a deep, guttural rumble that seemed to vibrate through the stone floor. The creature¡¯s maw stretched into a grotesque approximation of a grin, its jagged teeth glinting faintly.


    ¡°It knows we¡¯re here,¡± Davonte said, his voice shaking. ¡°We need to move. Now.¡±


    Before either of them could react, the creature took a step forward, its massive claws gouging deep into the stone. The movement was slow and deliberate, as if it were savoring the fear radiating from its prey.


    ¡°Get up!¡± Davonte hissed, grabbing Soya¡¯s arm and pulling him to his feet. ¡°We have to go!¡±


    Thalia stirred weakly, her voice a faint whisper. ¡°Run... just run...¡±


    The creature let out a piercing, otherworldly screech that echoed through the corridor, freezing Soya¡¯s blood. It crouched low, its muscles coiling like a spring, and then it leapt forward with terrifying speed.


    ¡°Run!¡± Davonte shouted, his voice cutting through the haze of fear.


    Soya¡¯s legs finally obeyed, and he bolted down the corridor, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. Davonte was beside him, half-dragging Thalia as they fled, the sound of the creature¡¯s claws scraping against the stone ringing in their ears.


    The corridor seemed endless, each shadow twisting and shifting as the creature closed the distance behind them. Its guttural growls echoed like a predator toying with its prey, and Soya dared not look back.


    ¡°What do we do?¡± Soya shouted, his voice cracking with panic.


    ¡°Keep running!¡± Davonte yelled. ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out¡ªjust don¡¯t stop!¡±


    But the creature wasn¡¯t giving them a choice. Its massive form was gaining on them, the vibrations of its steps shaking the ground. Soya¡¯s mind raced, desperation clawing at him as he realized they couldn¡¯t outrun it forever.


    He clutched his wand tighter, his breath ragged. ¡°Davonte... it¡¯s going to catch us!¡±


    Davonte¡¯s eyes darted around, searching for anything¡ªany escape, any plan. ¡°There!¡± he shouted, pointing to a small archway up ahead, partially concealed by a tapestry. ¡°Through there!¡±


    Soya didn¡¯t hesitate. He veered toward the archway, the tapestry brushing against his shoulder as he dove through. Davonte followed, pulling Thalia behind him just as the creature¡¯s claws scraped against the stone where they had stood a moment earlier.


    Inside the small, hidden alcove, the three of them pressed against the wall, their breaths loud in the deafening silence. The creature¡¯s growls echoed just outside, its claws scratching ominously against the floor.


    Soya¡¯s heart thundered in his chest, his wand trembling in his hand. ¡°It¡¯s... it¡¯s hunting us.¡±


    Davonte nodded grimly, his silver eyes glinting with a mix of fear and determination. ¡°Yeah,¡± he whispered. ¡°And it¡¯s not going to stop until it catches us.¡±


    The eerie silence that followed the creature¡¯s pursuit was shattered by the sound of hurried footsteps and sharp voices echoing through the corridor. Soya pressed himself further into the alcove, his breath hitching as the distant growls of the creature mingled with the unmistakable sound of human movement.


    ¡°Over here!¡± a voice barked, strong and commanding. It was Professor Marilla.


    A burst of light illuminated the corridor, casting long, flickering shadows on the walls. The monstrous creature let out a guttural roar, its clawed feet scraping furiously against the stone as it turned its attention toward the new arrivals. Soya risked a glance out from behind the tapestry, his heart leaping at the sight of Professor Marilla, her wand raised high, a shimmering barrier of blue light forming in front of her.


    ¡°Students!¡± she called, her voice steady despite the chaos. ¡°Stay where you are!¡±


    Behind her, Seikan Blackthorn strode forward, his dark robes billowing as he moved. His sharp emerald eyes locked onto the creature, immediately narrowing in on the glowing runes etched into its horns. He paused, his hands flicking in the air as he began tracing intricate runes that glowed faintly in response.


    Professor Wickham appeared next, her usual composed demeanor cracking slightly as she took in the hulking creature before them. ¡°What in Merlin¡¯s name is that thing?¡± she murmured, her wand pointed steadily at the beast.


    ¡°Something ancient and deeply dangerous,¡± Seikan replied tersely, his focus never wavering. ¡°And those runes¡ªit¡¯s been bound or controlled by something. But they¡¯re not acting as they should. It¡¯s... breaking free.¡±


    Marilla raised an eyebrow but didn¡¯t take her eyes off the creature. ¡°Bound or not, it¡¯s trying to kill us and these students. Suggestions?¡±


    ¡°Magic barely works on it,¡± Seikan said, his voice grim. ¡°That barrier of yours is holding, but I doubt it will for long. Whatever those runes are, they¡¯re shielding it from most magical attacks.¡±


    The creature snarled, slamming itself against Marilla¡¯s barrier. The shimmering blue light rippled but held firm, though the force of the impact caused cracks to spiderweb across the stone floor.


    ¡°Then we hold it back long enough to get the students out of here,¡± Wickham said, stepping forward and reinforcing the barrier with a flick of her wand.


    Seikan¡¯s hands moved rapidly as he sketched more glowing runes in the air, muttering incantations under his breath. The symbols shot forward, attaching themselves to the creature¡¯s horns and body. For a brief moment, the runes flared bright, and the creature let out a deafening roar, stumbling backward. But the glow faded just as quickly, the runes crumbling into nothingness.


    ¡°Damn,¡± Seikan hissed, his frustration evident. ¡°It¡¯s too resistant. Those runes are acting like a magical dampener¡ªthey¡¯re negating anything we throw at it.¡±


    The creature recovered quickly, its glowing eyes narrowing as it stalked forward again. The professors braced themselves, but Marilla turned her head slightly toward the alcove where Soya, Davonte, and Thalia were hiding.


    ¡°Students, listen carefully!¡± she called, her voice calm but firm. ¡°You need to move now. Follow the corridor back the way you came and head straight to your common room. Do not stop for anything.¡±


    Soya hesitated, his heart pounding as he stared at the professors standing between them and the monstrous creature. ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°Go!¡± Marilla snapped, her voice leaving no room for argument. ¡°We¡¯ll handle this.¡±


    Davonte grabbed Soya¡¯s arm, his usual confidence replaced by urgency. ¡°Come on, mate. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    Reluctantly, Soya nodded, pulling Thalia to her feet as they slipped out from behind the tapestry. The corridor ahead of them was dark and silent, the faint glow of the professors¡¯ magic casting eerie shadows that seemed to stretch and twist as they moved.


    Behind them, the creature lunged at the barrier again, its claws raking against the magical shield with a horrifying screech. Wickham reinforced the barrier with another flick of her wand, while Marilla raised her own, sending a burst of golden light toward the creature¡¯s legs. The spell struck true, causing the beast to stagger, but it shook off the attack almost immediately.


    ¡°We can¡¯t hold this thing forever,¡± Wickham said through gritted teeth. ¡°Blackthorn, any ideas?¡±


    Seikan¡¯s hands moved in a blur as he sketched another series of runes, this time directing them toward the ceiling above the creature. ¡°If we can¡¯t stop it, we¡¯ll bury it,¡± he said, his tone sharp. The runes glowed brightly, and the stones above the creature began to tremble.


    The creature roared, sensing the shift, and slammed into the barrier with renewed ferocity. The professors held their ground, their combined magic straining against the relentless assault.


    Soya glanced back just in time to see the ceiling above the creature collapse in a controlled explosion of stone and dust. The beast let out a furious screech as it was buried beneath the rubble, the sound reverberating through the corridor.


    ¡°Keep moving!¡± Davonte urged, pulling Soya forward as the professors turned their attention to reinforcing the new barricade of rubble. The distant growls of the creature were muffled but still audible, a chilling reminder that it wasn¡¯t gone¡ªjust delayed.


    By the time they reached the entrance to the Thylacea common room, Soya¡¯s legs felt like jelly, and his breath came in ragged gasps. The prefects stationed outside hurried them inside, their expressions tight with worry.


    Once inside, the comforting warmth of the common room felt almost surreal. Students huddled together, their voices low and filled with fear. Soya sank into a chair near the fire, his hands trembling as he clutched his sketchbook.


    Davonte dropped into the seat beside him, his usual humor nowhere to be found. ¡°That... was not what I signed up for.¡±


    Soya nodded numbly, his mind replaying the encounter over and over. The creature¡¯s glowing eyes, its claws, the runes etched into its horns¡ªit was like something out of a nightmare.

 Chapter 17: Lockdown

    The Thylacea common room was unusually subdued, the tension from the prior night hanging thick in the air. Soya sat cross-legged on one of the oversized armchairs near the fireplace, his sketchbook balanced on his knees. His pencil moved hesitantly across the page, sketching the jagged lines of the creature they had seen. Every detail¡ªthe glowing eyes, the clawed limbs, the strange runes¡ªseemed burned into his memory, refusing to fade.


    Across from him, Davonte was sprawled on a couch, tossing a small enchanted ball into the air. The rhythmic thud as it hit his hand was the only sound in the room, a steady contrast to the chaotic thoughts swirling in Soya¡¯s mind.


    ¡°You¡¯re still drawing that thing?¡± Davonte asked, his voice breaking the quiet. He caught the ball mid-air and leaned forward, his silver eyes flicking to the page. ¡°Mate, I think I¡¯ve seen enough of it to last a lifetime.¡±


    ¡°It helps,¡± Soya replied softly, not looking up. ¡°I keep thinking if I can just... get it right, maybe I¡¯ll understand it better.¡±


    Davonte raised an eyebrow but didn¡¯t argue. ¡°Fair enough. Just don¡¯t let it haunt you too much. We¡¯ve got enough nightmares to go around.¡±


    The door to the common room creaked open, and a few students looked up. A thin boy with jet-black hair swept neatly back stepped inside, his pale complexion almost ghostly in the firelight. He carried a leather-bound journal in one hand, an enchanted quill tucked behind his ear. His piercing gray eyes scanned the room briefly before landing on Soya.


    The boy approached with a measured pace, his steps precise and deliberate. When he reached Soya¡¯s chair, he spoke in a calm, monotone voice. ¡°Your drawing is... intriguing.¡±


    Soya looked up, startled. ¡°Oh, uh... thanks.¡±


    The boy tilted his head slightly, his gaze fixed on the sketch. ¡°The anatomical proportions are impressive. However, I notice an inconsistency in the limb positioning. May I?¡± He gestured toward the sketchbook.


    Soya hesitated but handed it over. ¡°Sure.¡±


    The boy studied the drawing intently, his brow furrowing as he examined the lines. ¡°The forelimbs,¡± he said, pointing with a slender finger. ¡°If the creature¡¯s musculature aligns with its skeletal structure, these should be more elongated, with a wider arc of movement. Otherwise, it wouldn¡¯t achieve the range of motion required for the claws to be very effective.¡±


    Soya blinked. ¡°The claws?¡±


    The boy glanced at him, his expression neutral. ¡°Precisely. The way you¡¯ve depicted the claws suggests they would be used with deliberate force, likely for climbing or breaking through barriers. It¡¯s a logical conclusion.¡±


    Davonte smirked, leaning back on the couch. ¡°Well, aren¡¯t you a walking encyclopedia?¡±


    The boy didn¡¯t react to the jab, instead handing the sketchbook back to Soya. ¡°I¡¯m Draven Corvidus,¡± he said matter-of-factly. ¡°Thylacea, like yourselves. I recently transferred from an independent magical academy in Tasmania.¡±


    ¡°Ah, the new kid,¡± Davonte said with a grin. ¡°I¡¯m Davonte Evander. This is Soya Vareen. Welcome to the madness.¡±


    Draven inclined his head slightly, his expression unchanging. ¡°I appreciate the welcome. Though, given the atmosphere of the castle, I suspect ¡®madness¡¯ is an apt description.¡±


    Soya managed a small smile. ¡°It¡¯s... been a rough few days.¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Draven replied, his tone thoughtful. ¡°I noticed the tension among the students. Rumors of lockdowns and unusual occurrences are already spreading. Fascinating, though likely exaggerated.¡±


    Davonte snorted. ¡°Oh, trust me, mate, they¡¯re not exaggerated.¡±


    Draven¡¯s gray eyes flicked to him, sharp and analytical. ¡°You¡¯ve seen something, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    Davonte hesitated, glancing at Soya. ¡°Let¡¯s just say this place has a lot more going on than anyone¡¯s letting on.¡±


    Draven¡¯s gaze lingered on Davonte for a moment before shifting back to Soya. ¡°If you¡¯re willing, I¡¯d like to know more. Not out of idle curiosity, but to understand. Knowledge, after all, is the most effective tool against fear.¡±


    Soya exchanged a glance with Davonte, unsure how much to reveal. There was something oddly reassuring about Draven¡¯s calm demeanor, but the weight of what they had witnessed made it hard to speak.


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it,¡± Soya said finally.


    Draven nodded once, as if satisfied. ¡°Very well. Should you choose to share, I¡¯ll be here. In the meantime, if you require assistance with anything¡ªacademic or otherwise¡ªdon¡¯t hesitate to ask.¡±


    With that, he turned and walked toward an empty chair by the window, his journal already open as he began jotting notes in neat, precise handwriting.


    ¡°Well,¡± Davonte said after a moment, tossing his enchanted ball into the air again. ¡°Looks like we¡¯ve got ourselves a new friend. Or at least a walking dictionary.¡±


    Soya glanced at Draven, who was now absorbed in his writing, and smiled faintly. ¡°I think he¡¯s just... different.¡±


    Davonte chuckled. ¡°Different¡¯s good. We could use a little ¡®different¡¯ around here right now.¡±


    Later that morning in the Thylacea common room unusually quiet. Instead of the typical hustle of students preparing for classes, there was only the soft murmur of whispered conversations. The fire in the hearth crackled gently, its warmth doing little to dispel the uneasy tension that filled the room.


    Soya stirred from his usual spot by the window. He noticed the spread of breakfast foods that had appeared on the central table¡ªsteaming platters of eggs, bacon, and toast, along with pitchers of mango juice and tea. It was a feast, but the atmosphere it created was anything but celebratory.


    Davonte was lounging on the couch with a piece of toast in one hand and a bemused expression. ¡°Well, this is new,¡± he said, gesturing toward the table. ¡°Breakfast in the common room? Either the kitchen elves are spoiling us, or something¡¯s seriously wrong.¡±


    Soya frowned, glancing around at the other students, many of whom looked equally confused. ¡°Classes haven¡¯t started yet,¡± he said softly, his gaze drifting toward the grandfather clock by the fireplace. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we have heard the bell by now?¡±


    Before Davonte could respond, the door to the prefect¡¯s corner creaked open, and Thalia Greaves stepped out, holding a parchment sealed with the Austramore crest. Her face was pale but composed, though the faint lines of worry around her eyes betrayed her unease.


    ¡°Alright, everyone, listen up!¡± Thalia¡¯s voice cut through the quiet murmurs, drawing the attention of every student in the room. She unrolled the parchment and began to read, her tone steady but firm.


    ¡°By order of Headmaster Boromus Spellchecker, all classes are suspended for today. Students are to remain in their common rooms until further notice. Meals and refreshments have been provided, and prefects will ensure everyone is accounted for. This is a precautionary measure to ensure the safety of all students. Normal scheduling is expected to resume tomorrow.¡±


    A ripple of whispers spread through the room, some students glancing nervously at one another while others exchanged skeptical looks. Thalia rolled up the parchment and addressed the group again, her tone sharp enough to silence the chatter.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t up for debate,¡± she said firmly. ¡°No one is to leave the common room for any reason unless accompanied by a professor or prefect. If you have questions, direct them to me or the other prefects. Now, make yourselves comfortable and try not to worry.¡±


    Davonte leaned closer to Soya, his voice low. ¡°Suspended classes? Meals delivered? Yeah, that¡¯s definitely not normal.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not,¡± Soya agreed, his stomach twisting with unease. ¡°Do you think it¡¯s... about last night?¡±


    Davonte gave a slight shrug, though his expression was uncharacteristically serious. ¡°If it is, they¡¯re not telling us. But I¡¯d bet every last Galleon I¡¯ve got that this is connected.¡±


    Draven, seated in a nearby armchair with his journal open, looked up from his notes. ¡°An interesting development,¡± he remarked in his usual monotone. ¡°Lockdowns are rare, particularly at an institution as fortified as Austramore. Whatever the issue, it must be significant.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± Davonte muttered, taking another bite of toast. ¡°More secrets and mysteries. Just what we needed.¡±


    Soya glanced at the food-laden table, his appetite absent despite the enticing aromas. The Headmaster¡¯s words echoed in his mind, the memory of the previous night¡¯s events still fresh. ¡°Do you think they¡¯ll actually fix it by tomorrow?¡±


    Draven tilted his head thoughtfully. ¡°If the issue is of a magical nature, and the professors are involved, it is reasonable to assume they will contain it. However, the lack of transparency suggests the situation may be more complex than they are willing to admit.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s comforting,¡± Davonte said with a dry laugh. ¡°Guess we just sit here and wait, then?¡±


    Draven¡¯s piercing gray eyes met his. ¡°For now, yes. Though waiting does not preclude preparation. Perhaps we can use this time to better understand the circumstances¡ªor at least be ready for what comes next.¡±


    Soya looked between his two companions, his sketchbook resting on his lap. The thought of doing nothing felt unbearable, but the locked doors and guarded instructions left them with few options. As the room settled into a low hum of conversation, he couldn¡¯t help but feel like a storm was brewing.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    After a few hours of chatting with other students, playing games, and other mundane activities, the common room had grown quiet. Most students were reading quietly, or in their dormitories.


    Soya sat cross-legged near the large window, his sketchbook propped up on his knees. The light filtering through the enchanted panes created a soft glow that fell across his face, though his usual serene expression was absent. His pencil danced across the page, the lines coming together to form a chaotic swirl of shadows and shapes. He wasn¡¯t sure what he was drawing¡ªonly that it felt right to let his emotions spill onto the paper.


    Draven sat nearby, his ever-present journal open in his lap as he watched Soya work. His gray eyes analyzed each stroke with quiet intensity. ¡°Your technique is remarkable,¡± he observed, his monotone voice cutting through the silence. ¡°There¡¯s a fluidity to your lines that conveys movement. It¡¯s almost as though the shadows are alive.¡±


    Soya blinked, startled out of his trance. ¡°Thanks,¡± he said softly, though his voice lacked the usual warmth. ¡°I guess I¡¯ve had a lot on my mind lately.¡±


    ¡°I can tell,¡± Draven replied, leaning forward slightly. ¡°The imagery suggests unease¡ªfear, even. Would you care to elaborate, or shall I simply continue making observations?¡±


    Soya hesitated, his pencil hovering over the paper. Before he could answer, Davonte flopped onto the couch beside them, holding an apple he¡¯d clearly stolen from the breakfast table. ¡°Alright, Soya,¡± he said, biting into the fruit with a crunch. ¡°Time to bring our new friend here up to speed.¡±


    Soya glanced between Davonte and Draven, his grip tightening on his pencil. ¡°Are you sure that¡¯s a good idea? What if¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on,¡± Davonte interrupted, waving the apple for emphasis. ¡°Draven¡¯s not going to rat us out. Look at him¡ªhe¡¯s practically bursting with curiosity.¡±


    Draven raised an eyebrow, unbothered by the comment. ¡°I am indeed intrigued. Knowledge is, after all, the foundation of preparation. If there is something I should know, I¡¯d prefer to be informed sooner rather than later.¡±


    Soya sighed, closing his sketchbook and setting it aside. ¡°Fine. But... it¡¯s a lot.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve got time,¡± Davonte said, leaning back and resting his hands behind his head. ¡°Might as well make use of this lovely forced lockdown.¡±


    Taking a deep breath, Soya began to recount the events of the past few days. He started with the discovery of the Whispering Archives, the runes, and the unsettling clues about Eliza¡¯s disappearance. As he spoke, Davonte chimed in with his usual dramatic flair, describing their encounter with the basilisk, the monstrous clawed creature, and the professors¡¯ desperate attempts to contain the chaos.


    Draven listened intently, his expression never changing, though his hand moved quickly as he jotted notes in his journal. Occasionally, he interjected with clarifying questions or observations.


    ¡°The creature you described,¡± Draven said when Soya paused, ¡°with glowing runes and an apparent immunity to magic¡ªit¡¯s unlike anything I¡¯ve read about. Are you certain it wasn¡¯t some form of magical construct?¡±


    ¡°Pretty sure,¡± Davonte replied, his tone unusually serious. ¡°That thing was alive. The way it moved, the way it looked at us... it wasn¡¯t just some animated statue. And those claws? Yeah, not a fan.¡±


    Draven nodded thoughtfully, his quill scratching against the page. ¡°And the basilisk you encountered at the lake¡ªwas it behaving as expected? Aggressive, territorial?¡±


    ¡°Definitely aggressive,¡± Soya said, shuddering at the memory. ¡°But the professors got to it before it could reach us. I don¡¯t know how they managed to keep it contained.¡±


    ¡°The professors¡¯ involvement suggests a coordinated effort,¡± Draven mused. ¡°Though it raises the question of why students have been kept in the dark. The secrecy implies either a lack of trust or the presence of information too dangerous to share.¡±


    ¡°Well, isn¡¯t that comforting,¡± Davonte said dryly, tossing the apple core into a nearby bin. ¡°So what do we do now, oh wise one?¡±


    Draven closed his journal with a soft thud, his piercing gaze fixed on them. ¡°We wait. But waiting does not equate to passivity. If there are patterns or anomalies in what you¡¯ve described, we can use this time to identify them. Preparation is key, particularly when dealing with the unknown.¡±


    Soya nodded slowly, his fingers absently tracing the edge of his sketchbook. Despite Draven¡¯s calm, logical demeanor, the weight of their situation felt heavier than ever.


    Draven leaned forward, his journal open and his quill poised as he absorbed every piece of information Soya and Davonte shared. The quiet crackle of the fire filled the gaps in their conversation, the weight of their discoveries settling heavily over the three of them.


    ¡°So,¡± Draven began, his voice calm and deliberate, ¡°we have a series of interconnected events that appear far too deliberate to be coincidence. Let¡¯s start at the beginning¡ªthis rune by the lake. Eliza was investigating it before her disappearance, correct?¡±


    Soya nodded. ¡°She was obsessed with it. She kept saying it was old magic, way older than anything we¡¯d studied. She thought it was connected to the basilisk.¡±


    ¡°And you said you went back to see it,¡± Draven prompted, his gray eyes sharp. ¡°What exactly happened?¡±


    Davonte leaned back, crossing his arms. ¡°Eliza convinced us to sneak out to the lake one night. We didn¡¯t really find anything new, just the same rune. But then Sevrin and Sage showed up.¡±


    Draven¡¯s quill froze mid-stroke. ¡°Did they see you?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Soya said quickly. ¡°We stayed hidden, but we watched Sage remove the rune. It was like... like he was untying something. Like the rune had been holding something in place.¡±


    Draven tapped the quill against his journal, his brow furrowing. ¡°Interesting. A binding rune, perhaps? If it was meant to contain or control something, removing it would have released whatever was bound.¡±


    ¡°The basilisk,¡± Davonte suggested. ¡°It was in the lake, wasn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a logical conclusion,¡± Draven replied, jotting the thought down. ¡°But that raises more questions. If Sage created the rune¡ªand it seems likely he did¡ªwhy would he remove it? What purpose would releasing the basilisk serve?¡±


    ¡°Maybe they didn¡¯t mean to,¡± Soya offered, though his voice lacked certainty. ¡°Or maybe they needed it for something else.¡±


    ¡°Possibly,¡± Draven said, though his tone suggested skepticism. ¡°Now, the wall breach. You described the claw marks leading into the forest and the beast you encountered. If the basilisk is one piece of this puzzle, then this creature is another. What do you know about it?¡±


    Davonte shrugged. ¡°Not much, except it¡¯s big, it¡¯s got claws, and it doesn¡¯t like us. Oh, and magic barely works on it.¡±


    Draven nodded, making another note. ¡°A creature resistant to magic, marked with runes that appear to dampen or deflect spells. That¡¯s highly unusual. If those runes were placed by someone¡ªSage, for instance¡ªthen the creature might not be acting entirely on its own.¡±


    ¡°You think it¡¯s controlled?¡± Soya asked, his voice low.


    ¡°Controlled, or at least influenced,¡± Draven clarified. ¡°The runes could be part of some kind of enchantment or compulsion. But the creature itself... it breached the castle walls. That suggests either a calculated move or sheer brute force.¡±


    ¡°What if it was letting the basilisk in?¡± Soya suggested. ¡°Maybe it was working with Sage and Sevrin.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a possibility,¡± Draven admitted, ¡°though it¡¯s difficult to determine their end goal. Let¡¯s not forget Eliza¡¯s role in all of this. She disappeared while researching the rune, correct?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Soya said. ¡°She thought the rune was part of something bigger¡ªsomething dangerous. But we never figured out exactly what she meant.¡±


    Draven tapped his fingers against the edge of his journal, his eyes narrowing in thought. ¡°A binding rune at the lake, the basilisk¡¯s release, the breach in the wall, and now this creature. All of these events are linked, and Sage and Sevrin appear to be at the center of it. If Eliza was uncovering something they wanted to keep hidden, that could explain her disappearance.¡±


    Davonte frowned, leaning forward. ¡°So what¡¯s the connection? Why would Sage release a basilisk and bring in some magic-proof monster? What¡¯s the point?¡±


    ¡°That,¡± Draven said, his tone grave, ¡°is what we need to figure out. But whatever their plan is, it¡¯s big. They¡¯re manipulating forces far beyond the scope of ordinary magic, and they¡¯re doing it deliberately.¡±


    Soya stared down at his sketchbook, his mind racing. ¡°Eliza knew something,¡± he said quietly. ¡°She was onto them, and they silenced her for it.¡±


    Draven¡¯s gaze softened slightly, though his voice remained steady. ¡°Perhaps. But if Eliza¡¯s disappearance is tied to this, it also means she may still be alive. They wouldn¡¯t risk killing her if she has knowledge they need.¡±


    The room fell silent for a moment as the weight of that possibility hung between them. Davonte broke the tension with a dry chuckle. ¡°So what do we do now, genius? Storm the castle? Find another rune and see if Sage shows up to mess with it?¡±


    Draven closed his journal, his expression unreadable. ¡°For now, we gather information. Watch for patterns, discrepancies, anything that could provide insight. Sage and Sevrin are methodical, which means their actions will leave clues¡ªif we¡¯re observant enough to spot them.¡±


    ¡°And then?¡± Soya asked, though he wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to hear the answer.


    ¡°Then,¡± Draven said, standing and tucking his journal under his arm, ¡°we decide whether we¡¯re ready to confront them¡ªor if we¡¯ll need help to stop whatever they¡¯re planning.¡±


    The heavy tension from the events of the previous night lingered, but the comforting crackle of the fireplace and the occasional sound of laughter helped ease some of the unease.


    Soya sat cross-legged on the carpet near the hearth, his wand balanced delicately between his fingers. Davonte lounged on the couch behind him, twirling his own wand idly, while Draven sat stiffly on a nearby chair, his journal open on his lap and his enchanted quill poised to write.


    ¡°So,¡± Davonte began, flicking his wand toward a nearby quill and sending it spiraling clumsily into the air, ¡°are we practicing something useful, or are we just going to keep making random objects levitate?¡±


    Draven glanced up from his journal, his sharp gray eyes flicking between them. ¡°If you¡¯re looking to practice something useful, I¡¯d suggest refining your control. Precision is far more valuable than brute force.¡±


    Davonte smirked. ¡°What, like this?¡± He waved his wand, and the quill did a loop before bouncing off the edge of the table and clattering to the floor. ¡°Nailed it.¡±


    Draven let out a quiet sigh, setting his journal aside. ¡°Your approach lacks consistency. Try focusing on a single point and maintaining a steady flow of magic.¡±


    Soya hid a smile, enjoying the banter as he raised his own wand and whispered, ¡°Wingardium Leviosa.¡±


    A nearby book lifted smoothly into the air, hovering for a moment before Soya guided it gently onto the table. ¡°Like that?¡±


    ¡°Better,¡± Draven said, nodding approvingly. ¡°Your movements were deliberate, and your focus remained intact throughout the spell. Though, if I may suggest, try visualizing the book¡¯s weight as you lift it. It¡¯ll help stabilize your control.¡±


    Davonte groaned dramatically. ¡°Great, now I¡¯m getting magic lectures from the new guy.¡±


    Draven raised an eyebrow, his tone as dry as ever. ¡°Would you prefer a demonstration instead?¡±


    ¡°Actually, yeah,¡± Davonte said, leaning forward with a grin. ¡°Show us what you¡¯ve got, Mr. Magic Expert.¡±


    Draven stood, retrieving his wand from the pocket of his robes. He gestured toward a stack of books on the far side of the room. ¡°Observe.¡±


    With a flick of his wand and a muttered incantation, the top book lifted smoothly into the air. But instead of simply hovering, it began to rotate slowly, its pages flipping open and shut as though caught in a gentle breeze. Draven¡¯s hand remained steady, his movements precise as he guided the book through a graceful loop before setting it neatly back on the stack.


    Davonte whistled, impressed despite himself. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll give you that one. Fancy moves.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not about fanciness,¡± Draven replied, his tone matter-of-fact. ¡°It¡¯s about understanding the nuances of the spell and applying them effectively.¡±


    Soya tilted his head, curiosity sparking in his eyes. ¡°Where¡¯d you learn all that? You seem to know a lot more than most first-years.¡±


    Draven hesitated for a moment before sitting back down, his gaze dropping to his journal. ¡°My parents,¡± he said simply. ¡°My father is a magical researcher, and my mother is a librarian. They encouraged me to explore and experiment from a young age.¡±


    ¡°That explains a lot,¡± Davonte said, smirking. ¡°So, what, you spent your childhood buried in books?¡±


    ¡°Essentially,¡± Draven replied without missing a beat. ¡°Though I also spent a considerable amount of time attempting to animate them. That didn¡¯t end well.¡±


    Soya raised an eyebrow. ¡°Animate them? Like, make them move on their own?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Draven said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. ¡°I was fascinated by the idea of creating a self-sorting library. Unfortunately, the enchantment was too unstable, and the books became... aggressive.¡±


    Davonte burst out laughing. ¡°You¡¯re telling me you started a book rebellion?¡±


    ¡°Unintentionally,¡± Draven admitted, his tone dry. ¡°It took my father hours to subdue the chaos. He wasn¡¯t particularly pleased, though my mother found it amusing.¡±


    Soya chuckled, the image of an animated book battlefield playing vividly in his mind. ¡°Sounds like you¡¯ve always been experimenting.¡±


    Draven nodded. ¡°Knowledge is meant to be explored and expanded upon. I¡¯ve always believed that understanding the underlying principles of magic is just as important as casting spells.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s... actually pretty cool,¡± Soya said, his admiration genuine. ¡°Do you have any other stories like that?¡±


    Draven considered for a moment before nodding. ¡°Once, I attempted to create a self-replenishing ink for my quills. The result was an enchanted quill that wouldn¡¯t stop writing. It covered nearly every surface in my father¡¯s study with random phrases and equations before we managed to dispel it.¡±


    Davonte snorted. ¡°Remind me not to let you near my stuff.¡±


    ¡°I assure you,¡± Draven said with a faint smile, ¡°I¡¯ve refined my methods since then.¡±


    The conversation shifted back to practicing spells, with Draven offering tips and corrections as they worked. Soya found himself appreciating Draven¡¯s calm, analytical approach, even if it occasionally bordered on condescending.


    As the evening wore on, Soya glanced at Draven and smiled. ¡°Thanks for helping us out. I think we¡¯re going to need your brain for whatever comes next.¡±


    Draven inclined his head, his expression unreadable. ¡°We¡¯ll need all our strengths if we¡¯re to make sense of this. But for now, I believe we¡¯ve earned a moment of reprieve.¡±


    Davonte grinned, waving his wand and sending the quill into another clumsy loop. ¡°Agreed. Just don¡¯t expect me to start using big words like ¡®replenishing¡¯ anytime soon.¡±

 Chapter 18: Breaking Curfew

    The Thylacea common room buzzed softly with the low murmur of students, most huddled in groups, sharing whispered speculations about the ongoing lockdown. Soya leaned against the back of one of the oversized chairs, flipping absently through the pages of his sketchbook. Beside him, Davonte sat perched on the armrest, juggling a small enchanted orb with casual flicks of his wrist.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to lose our minds if we stay cooped up like this much longer,¡± Davonte muttered, breaking the silence between them.


    Soya glanced up, his expression uneasy. ¡°It¡¯s only been a day.¡±


    ¡°Feels longer,¡± Davonte replied, letting the orb bounce once before catching it. ¡°And I¡¯m betting tomorrow¡¯s not going to be ¡®back to normal,¡¯ no matter what that letter said.¡±


    Draven, seated in his usual spot near the fireplace with his journal open, glanced up from his notes. ¡°Your skepticism is justified. The likelihood of a return to routine under the current circumstances is... slim.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for the vote of confidence, Draven,¡± Davonte said dryly, tossing the orb higher. ¡°But yeah, you¡¯re probably right.¡±


    Soya sighed, lowering his sketchbook onto his lap. ¡°So what do we do? Just sit here and wait for someone else to fix everything?¡±


    Davonte¡¯s gaze flicked to Draven. ¡°What do you think, genius? You¡¯re the planner.¡±


    Draven leaned back, his gray eyes sharp as he considered the question. ¡°Given the professors¡¯ apparent reluctance to share information, our options are limited. However, the lack of transparency suggests they¡¯re protecting something¡ªor someone.¡±


    ¡°Like Eliza,¡± Soya murmured, his voice quiet.


    Draven nodded. ¡°Exactly. And if her disappearance is connected to the basilisk and the creature, it stands to reason the events are part of a larger plan.¡±


    Davonte caught the orb mid-air and held it still, his expression serious. ¡°We can¡¯t just sit here. If we don¡¯t start looking for answers, who will?¡±


    Soya hesitated, his fingers tracing the edges of his sketchbook. ¡°The professors told us to stay put. If we get caught¡ª¡±


    ¡°We won¡¯t,¡± Davonte said firmly, his grin returning. ¡°We¡¯ve snuck out before. We can do it again.¡±


    Draven closed his journal with a deliberate motion, his expression unreadable. ¡°If you¡¯re serious about this, we¡¯ll need more than just determination. Planning and precision will be crucial.¡±


    Soya looked between the two of them, uncertainty warring with the growing need to act. ¡°You really think we can figure this out?¡±


    ¡°We have to try,¡± Davonte said, his silver eyes gleaming with resolve. ¡°For Eliza. For everyone.¡±


    Draven adjusted the quill tucked behind his ear. ¡°If we¡¯re careful, we may find the answers we seek without drawing undue attention. But time is not on our side.¡±


    Soya took a deep breath, nodding slowly. ¡°Alright. Let¡¯s do it.¡±


    Davonte clapped him on the shoulder. ¡°That¡¯s the spirit. Let¡¯s make a plan.¡±


    As the three of them huddled together, their voices low but determined, the unease of the lockdown gave way to a flicker of purpose.


    Davonte grabbed a spare piece of parchment and a quill, his handwriting hurried and uneven as he began scribbling notes.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Davonte said, twirling the quill between his fingers. ¡°First problem: getting out of here without the prefects or anyone else noticing.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s easier said than done,¡± Soya muttered. ¡°The prefects are stationed at every exit, and the common room door is warded to alert them if anyone sneaks out.¡±


    Davonte groaned, dropping the quill dramatically. ¡°So, we¡¯re trapped. Great start.¡±


    Draven, sitting with his hands clasped and his face calm, leaned forward slightly. ¡°Not necessarily,¡± he said in his usual monotone. ¡°While I¡¯m unfamiliar with Austramore¡¯s layout, it stands to reason that a castle of this age would have concealed passages or alternate routes. Older magical institutions often do.¡±


    Davonte raised an eyebrow. ¡°And how exactly would we find one of these secret passages? You¡¯ve been here, what, three days?¡±


    ¡°Correct,¡± Draven said matter-of-factly. ¡°Which is why I¡¯m relying on logic rather than experience. Have either of you heard rumors about hidden corridors or unexplored areas of the school?¡±


    Soya hesitated. ¡°There are stories, sure. But most of them are just that¡ªstories. Like the one about the hidden staircase in the library or the tunnel behind the tapestry in the east wing.¡±


    ¡°Have you ever checked them?¡± Draven asked, his sharp gray eyes flicking between the two.


    ¡°No,¡± Soya admitted. ¡°We always assumed they were just old rumors.¡±


    ¡°Then perhaps it¡¯s time to investigate,¡± Draven suggested. ¡°If even one of these passages exists, it could provide the means to leave the common room unnoticed.¡±


    Davonte nodded slowly, a grin spreading across his face. ¡°Alright, I like it. We scope out one of these spots, see if it pans out. If it doesn¡¯t, we figure out something else. Worst-case scenario, we¡¯re still stuck here.¡±


    ¡°Agreed,¡± Draven said. ¡°But we¡¯ll need to plan carefully. If we¡¯re caught wandering around without a proper reason, the consequences could be severe.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Soya said, his brow furrowed in thought. ¡°So where do we go once we¡¯re out? We can¡¯t just wander aimlessly.¡±


    ¡°The second floor,¡± Davonte said immediately. ¡°That¡¯s where that thing chased us. If it¡¯s still around, we need to know.¡±


    ¡°And the lake,¡± Soya added. ¡°The rune, the basilisk¡ªeverything started there. If we can figure out what Sage did to the rune, maybe we¡¯ll understand why all of this is happening.¡±


    Draven nodded, making a quick note in his leather-bound journal. ¡°A logical progression. Start with the second floor, then assess the feasibility of reaching the lake. If the grounds are too heavily patrolled, we regroup and reevaluate.¡±


    ¡°And the Whispering Archives,¡± Davonte said, his tone lowering slightly. ¡°If we¡¯re going to figure this out, we need more than guesses and rumors. There¡¯s got to be something in the Archives about creatures like that thing we saw¡ªor about Sage and Sevrin.¡±


    Draven tapped his fingers against the journal. ¡°A fair point. But the Archives are heavily monitored, and any attempt to access them would require precise timing. It¡¯s a high-risk move.¡±


    ¡°Everything we¡¯re doing is high-risk,¡± Davonte pointed out. ¡°Might as well go big.¡±


    Soya chewed his lip nervously, his gaze flickering between his two companions. ¡°What if we get caught? What if... this is too big for us to handle?¡±


    Draven¡¯s gray eyes met his, calm and unwavering. ¡°Caution is necessary, but so is action. If we don¡¯t at least try to understand what¡¯s happening, we¡¯ll remain powerless¡ªand so will everyone else.¡±


    Davonte grinned, clapping Soya on the shoulder. ¡°He¡¯s right, mate. We¡¯ve got to do something. And with Mr. Brainiac over here, we might actually have a shot.¡±


    Draven didn¡¯t react to the nickname, instead focusing on the parchment. ¡°We¡¯ll meet here tonight at midnight. Bring your wands, and be prepared for any unexpected complications.¡±


    Soya took a deep breath, nodding reluctantly. ¡°Alright. Midnight.¡±


    Davonte smirked, grabbing the parchment and folding it neatly. ¡°This is going to be one hell of an adventure. Let¡¯s just hope we don¡¯t get expelled for it.¡±


    The common room was eerily quiet as midnight approached. Most of the students had gone to bed, the soft sound of crackling firewood in the hearth the only noise breaking the stillness. Soya sat near the window, his sketchbook closed and tucked away in his bag. His nerves were evident in the way his foot tapped rhythmically against the floor, a soft but constant reminder of the risk they were about to take.


    Davonte leaned casually against the back of a chair, twirling his wand between his fingers. ¡°Relax, mate,¡± he said, his voice low but laced with his usual confidence. ¡°We¡¯ve got this.¡±


    Soya shot him a look. ¡°It¡¯s not that simple. If we¡¯re caught...¡±


    ¡°We won¡¯t be,¡± Davonte interrupted, grinning. ¡°Not if we stick to the plan.¡±


    Draven approached, his steps silent as always. He carried his leather-bound journal under one arm, his wand in hand, and his expression calm. ¡°The room is clear. The prefects are stationed near the main entrance. If we move now, we¡¯ll avoid any unnecessary confrontation.¡±


    Davonte straightened, slipping his wand into his pocket. ¡°Alright, then. Let¡¯s get moving.¡±


    The three of them crept toward the common room door, their movements careful and deliberate. The door loomed before them, its sturdy wood polished to a sheen. Soya hesitated as Davonte pulled a thin piece of parchment from his pocket, unfolded it, and whispered a series of instructions he had jotted down earlier.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°Step one,¡± Davonte murmured, pointing to the enchantment above the doorframe. ¡°Draven, this is your show.¡±


    Draven nodded, his piercing gray eyes scanning the intricate web of magical runes woven into the doorframe. He raised his wand and began tracing invisible lines in the air, muttering an incantation under his breath. A soft glow emitted from the runes, growing dimmer with each pass of his wand.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Soya whispered, his voice barely audible.


    ¡°Disrupting the ward¡¯s detection matrix,¡± Draven replied without looking away. ¡°It¡¯s designed to alert the prefects if the door opens without permission. By redirecting the enchantment¡¯s focus, it will instead register the door as unopened.¡±


    Davonte smirked. ¡°Translation: he¡¯s making it think we¡¯re still here.¡±


    The glow faded completely, and Draven lowered his wand. ¡°It¡¯s done. The door can be opened without triggering the alarm.¡±


    Davonte reached for the handle, pausing to glance back at the other two. ¡°Ready?¡±


    Soya nodded reluctantly, clutching his wand tightly. Draven gave a small incline of his head, and with that, Davonte eased the door open. The corridor beyond was dimly lit, the torches along the walls casting long, flickering shadows.


    ¡°Step two,¡± Davonte whispered, stepping into the hallway. ¡°We head for the tapestry in the east wing. If that secret passage exists, we¡¯ll find it there.¡±


    The group moved silently, their footsteps muffled against the stone floor. Soya¡¯s heart pounded in his chest as they passed the prefects¡¯ station, the faint murmur of voices filtering through the door. He held his breath, half-expecting someone to burst out and catch them at any moment.


    They reached the east wing without incident, the towering tapestry of a regal Tasmanian tiger looming before them. The intricate design shimmered faintly in the dim light, its golden thread glinting as though alive.


    ¡°Alright, Draven,¡± Davonte said, gesturing toward the tapestry. ¡°You¡¯re up again.¡±


    Draven approached, his gaze sharp as he examined the tapestry. He muttered an incantation, running his fingers along the edges until he found what he was looking for¡ªa small, almost imperceptible glyph hidden among the threads. With a flick of his wand, he activated the glyph, and the tapestry shimmered before folding in on itself like a curtain, revealing a narrow staircase descending into darkness.


    Soya stared, wide-eyed. ¡°It¡¯s real.¡±


    ¡°Of course it¡¯s real,¡± Davonte said, grinning. ¡°I told you those stories had to come from somewhere.¡±


    Draven stepped aside, his tone calm. ¡°The passage appears stable, though I recommend caution. It¡¯s likely enchanted to deter intruders.¡±


    Davonte rolled his eyes. ¡°Caution is my middle name.¡±


    ¡°Sure it is,¡± Soya muttered, gripping his wand as he followed Davonte into the passage.


    The staircase spiraled downward, the air growing cooler with each step. Faint, glowing runes lined the walls, their light just enough to guide their way. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the faint echoes of their footsteps.


    ¡°What do you think this place was for?¡± Soya whispered.


    ¡°Escape route, maybe?¡± Davonte guessed. ¡°Or a way to move around the castle without being seen.¡±


    Draven¡¯s voice was measured. ¡°Given the age of the runes, it¡¯s likely a defensive measure. An older part of the castle¡¯s design, perhaps predating its current structure.¡±


    The staircase ended abruptly, opening into a narrow corridor. The walls were lined with shelves, each filled with dusty scrolls and ancient tomes. A faint hum of magic lingered in the air, a reminder of the passage¡¯s forgotten purpose.


    ¡°Step three,¡± Davonte said, scanning the corridor. ¡°We figure out where this leads.¡±


    Draven approached one of the shelves, his fingers brushing over the spines of the tomes. ¡°These texts are remarkably well-preserved,¡± he observed. ¡°They might contain valuable information about the castle¡¯s history¡ªor its defenses.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t have time for a history lesson,¡± Davonte said, glancing over his shoulder. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s keep moving.¡±


    They continued down the corridor, the faint hum of magic growing louder as they went. At the far end, they found a heavy wooden door, its surface covered in intricate carvings.


    ¡°Locked,¡± Davonte said, trying the handle.


    Draven stepped forward, examining the carvings. ¡°Not just locked¡ªwarded. This door requires a specific magical signature to open.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± Davonte muttered. ¡°Another dead end.¡±


    ¡°Not necessarily,¡± Draven said, pulling out his wand. ¡°If I can replicate the signature, we might be able to bypass the lock.¡±


    ¡°Worth a shot,¡± Soya said, stepping back to give him space.


    Draven began tracing the carvings with his wand, muttering under his breath as he worked. The runes on the door glowed faintly, flickering as if resisting his attempts. After a tense moment, the glow stabilized, and the door creaked open.


    ¡°Impressive,¡± Davonte said, giving Draven an approving nod.


    Draven didn¡¯t respond, his focus on the chamber beyond. The room was small and circular, its walls lined with shelves of strange artifacts. In the center stood a pedestal, atop which rested a small, glowing orb.


    ¡°What is that?¡± Soya asked, his voice hushed.


    Draven approached cautiously, his gaze fixed on the orb. ¡°A monitoring device,¡± he said after a moment. ¡°It¡¯s designed to track magical anomalies within the castle.¡±


    Davonte raised an eyebrow. ¡°And how does that help us?¡±


    Draven glanced at him, his expression unreadable. ¡°Because if this device is active, it means someone else is using it¡ªand they might be watching us right now.¡±


    The room was bathed in an eerie glow from the orb, its faint, rhythmic pulse casting shifting shadows across the ancient walls. The air felt heavy, charged with the faint hum of lingering magic. Davonte paced near the entrance, his wand gripped tightly, while Draven continued examining the orb with meticulous precision. Soya hovered nearby, his nerves on edge, his fingers gripping the strap of his bag as he tried to steady his breathing.


    ¡°This thing feels... alive,¡± Davonte muttered, his voice low. ¡°I don¡¯t like it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not alive,¡± Draven corrected, his tone calm but focused. ¡°It¡¯s a conduit¡ªa tool for observation. Whoever is monitoring the castle is likely aware of our presence.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s just fantastic,¡± Davonte said, glancing at the dimly lit corridor they had come through. ¡°We¡¯re sitting ducks down here.¡±


    Soya stepped closer to the pedestal, his gaze locked on the glowing orb. ¡°If they know we¡¯re here... do you think they¡¯ll come after us?¡±


    Draven¡¯s gray eyes flicked to him, sharp and calculating. ¡°Unlikely. If this is their monitoring station, they have the advantage. They can watch, wait, and react on their terms.¡±


    Davonte let out a frustrated sigh. ¡°Great. So what¡¯s the plan, genius?¡±


    Before Draven could respond, the faint hum of the orb shifted, growing louder and more erratic. The glow intensified, flickering like a heartbeat under duress. Soya took a step back, his chest tightening with unease.


    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± he asked, his voice trembling.


    Draven¡¯s expression darkened, his hands moving quickly over the orb. ¡°Something is disrupting the magical field. This isn¡¯t us¡ªit¡¯s external.¡±


    A deep, guttural rumble echoed through the room, the sound vibrating through the stone floor beneath their feet. Dust rained down from the ceiling as the walls around them seemed to tremble. Soya¡¯s heart raced, his pulse pounding in his ears.


    ¡°Tell me that¡¯s not what I think it is,¡± Davonte said, his voice barely above a whisper.


    The rumble grew louder, followed by the distinct sound of stone cracking. Soya turned toward the far wall just as a massive section of it crumbled inward, sending jagged chunks of rock tumbling to the ground. The air was filled with a choking cloud of dust, and through it, a pair of glowing, yellow-green eyes pierced the darkness.


    ¡°Oh no,¡± Soya breathed, taking an involuntary step back.


    The basilisk emerged from the rubble, its enormous, serpentine body coiling through the breach. Its scales shimmered with an unnatural iridescence, and its fangs, long and razor-sharp, glinted in the dim light. The creature let out a rattling hiss, its head snapping toward them with terrifying precision.


    ¡°Run!¡± Davonte shouted, grabbing Soya¡¯s arm and yanking him toward the corridor.


    The three of them bolted, the sound of the basilisk¡¯s massive body slithering after them filling the narrow passage. The ground shook with each movement of the beast, the air thick with the scent of ancient, damp stone and something far more sinister.


    Soya¡¯s legs burned as he sprinted down the corridor, his heart hammering in his chest. The passage seemed to stretch endlessly before them, the faint glow of the runes on the walls their only guide. Behind them, the basilisk¡¯s hisses grew louder, closer, each one sending a jolt of fear through his body.


    ¡°This way!¡± Draven called, veering sharply to the right at an intersection. Soya and Davonte followed, their footsteps echoing in the confined space. The corridor narrowed, the walls pressing in as if trying to trap them.


    ¡°We can¡¯t keep this up!¡± Soya shouted, his voice strained with panic.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have a choice!¡± Davonte yelled back, his wand clutched tightly in his hand.


    A deafening crash behind them sent a wave of dust and debris hurtling through the passage. Soya stumbled, his foot catching on an uneven stone. He hit the ground hard, his palms scraping against the rough surface. Davonte skidded to a halt, turning back to grab him.


    ¡°Get up!¡± Davonte urged, pulling Soya to his feet. The basilisk¡¯s shadow loomed closer, its massive body undeterred by the narrow space.


    Draven stopped ahead, his sharp voice cutting through the chaos. ¡°There¡¯s a junction up ahead¡ªgo left! It leads to a larger chamber!¡±


    The three of them sprinted toward the junction, the walls shaking as the basilisk surged forward. Soya could feel the vibrations beneath his feet, the sheer power of the creature relentless and terrifying. They reached the junction, and without hesitation, turned left.


    The chamber opened up before them, its high ceiling offering a brief reprieve from the claustrophobic corridors. But there was no time to stop. The basilisk was right behind them, its massive head bursting through the entrance with a roar that shook the very foundation of the castle.


    Draven raised his wand, his voice steady as he shouted an incantation. A series of glowing runes appeared in the air, forming a barrier between them and the creature. The basilisk slammed into it with a bone shaking crash, the runes flaring brightly before cracking under the strain.


    ¡°It won¡¯t hold for long!¡± Draven warned, his face pale with exertion.


    ¡°Over here!¡± Davonte shouted, pointing to another passage on the far side of the chamber.


    They ran, the sound of the basilisk breaking through the barrier sending a fresh wave of terror through them. The passage twisted and turned, the faint glow of the runes growing dimmer with each step. The air grew colder, the oppressive silence broken only by their ragged breathing and the relentless pursuit of the basilisk.


    As they rounded a sharp corner, Soya¡¯s foot caught on a loose stone, and he stumbled again. This time, he fell hard, his bag slipping from his shoulder and spilling its contents across the floor.


    ¡°Soya!¡± Davonte shouted, skidding to a halt.


    ¡°Go!¡± Soya yelled, scrambling to gather his things. ¡°I¡¯ll catch up!¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not leaving you!¡± Davonte shot back, turning to help him.


    As Soya scrambled to gather his scattered belongings, the ground trembled violently, signaling the basilisk''s rapid approach. Its massive tail lashed out, striking with brutal force. The impact sent Soya hurtling through the air, crashing through the crumbling wall beside him. Dust and debris exploded outward as he disappeared into the darkness beyond, the sound of stone collapsing echoing ominously through the chamber.


    ¡°Soya!¡± Davonte screamed, his voice raw with panic.


    Draven grabbed his arm, his expression grim. ¡°We can¡¯t stay here! The basilisk is coming!¡±


    Davonte hesitated, his silver eyes wide with fear and desperation. But the sound of the basilisk¡¯s approach left no room for hesitation. With one last, anguished look at Draven, he turned and ran towards the broken wall.


    "Let me go!" he yelped, as Draven''s grip on his arm tightened, and his feet scuttled on the floor as he was pulled away. Draven sprinted with him down the corridor, his grip not faltering.

 Chapter 19: The Forgotten Sections

    The crash still echoed in Soya¡¯s ears as he slowly pushed himself up from the rubble. His head throbbed, his arms scraped and bruised from where he¡¯d landed. Dust and debris clung to his robes, and the faint taste of copper on his tongue confirmed a split lip. His heart was pounding, the adrenaline masking the full extent of the pain for now.


    He tried to catch his breath, his wide eyes darting around. The dim, flickering glow of a torch on the far wall revealed crumbling stonework, faded tapestries, and a thick layer of undisturbed dust blanketing the floor. Wherever he had landed, it was far from the more maintained parts of the school.


    ¡°Davonte? Draven?¡± His voice barely rose above a whisper, fear threatening to crack his composure. The words seemed to vanish into the oppressive silence that surrounded him.


    No answer. Only his ragged breathing and the occasional drip of water from some unseen source.


    Soya staggered to his feet, leaning against the crumbling wall for support. He tried to focus, to steady himself, but his thoughts raced: the basilisk, the others, how he¡¯d been separated. He felt panic clawing at the edges of his mind, but he forced it down, gripping his wand tightly. Panicking wouldn¡¯t help. He needed to think.


    ¡°This... this must be part of the lower levels,¡± he muttered, his voice trembling. ¡°An older section of the school. Maybe... maybe it¡¯s been abandoned.¡±


    The air was heavy, damp, and carried the scent of mildew and age. Long-forgotten. His mind flicked to stories he¡¯d heard about the castle¡¯s endless corridors and hidden chambers. He¡¯d always thought they were just exaggerated tales to scare first-years. Now, standing here, it felt all too real.


    He lifted his wand, the comforting weight grounding him. ¡°Lumos,¡± he whispered, the tip glowing faintly. The weak light illuminated only a few feet ahead of him, revealing more stone walls and scattered debris.


    One step at a time, he thought. He couldn¡¯t afford to stay still, not with the basilisk somewhere behind him¡ªor worse, following him.


    The corridor ahead seemed to stretch endlessly, the faint glow of his wand casting long shadows that danced and flickered with every movement. He tried to stay quiet, his footsteps soft against the dusty stone, but every sound felt magnified, echoing ominously. The occasional skittering of unseen creatures sent shivers down his spine.


    As he walked, he passed faded murals and ancient carvings etched into the walls. They depicted scenes of wizards battling monstrous creatures, their faces weathered and indistinct with time. One carving caught his eye¡ªa figure wielding a wand against a serpent so massive its coils filled the frame. His chest tightened as he traced the lines with his eyes. A basilisk.


    His grip on his wand tightened. ¡°Great. Just what I needed,¡± he muttered under his breath, forcing himself to keep moving.


    The corridor branched ahead, splitting into three paths. Soya stopped, his heart sinking. He had no idea which way to go. No signs, no markers¡ªjust darkness stretching in every direction.


    Stay calm, he told himself. Think. Which way would lead back to the others?


    He crouched down, examining the floor. The dust was undisturbed in two of the paths, thick and settled as if no one had walked there in years. The third path, however, showed faint markings, as though something¡ªor someone¡ªhad recently passed through. Drag marks, long and uneven.


    ¡°Not exactly reassuring,¡± he whispered. But it was the only lead he had.


    With a deep breath, he stepped into the third corridor, his wand held aloft. The air grew colder as he ventured deeper, his breath forming faint clouds in front of him. He tried to ignore the gnawing unease, focusing instead on keeping his footsteps steady and his breathing even.


    The faint sound of whispers reached his ears, just on the edge of hearing. He froze, straining to listen. It wasn¡¯t like the chaotic, incomprehensible whispers from before¡ªthis was softer, almost rhythmic. Words he couldn¡¯t make out but felt compelled to follow.


    ¡°Hello?¡± he called, his voice hesitant.


    The whispers stopped. The silence that followed was deafening.


    A chill ran down his spine, but he pressed on, his wand trembling slightly in his hand. The corridor opened into a larger chamber, its vaulted ceiling disappearing into darkness. The space felt wrong, the air charged with an unplaceable tension.


    In the center of the chamber lay a shattered statue, its pieces scattered across the floor. It was once a serpent, its body coiled protectively around a pedestal that now stood empty. Soya stepped closer, his light casting jagged shadows across the broken stone.


    Something had been here. Something powerful. And now it was gone.


    His heart raced as he crouched by the pedestal, his eyes scanning for any clue. The markings etched into the stone seemed similar to the rune by the lake¡ªcomplex, ancient, and humming faintly with residual magic. He reached out hesitantly, his fingers brushing the edge of the carving.


    The whispers returned, louder this time.


    Soya jerked back, his wand flaring brighter as he spun around, his pulse pounding in his ears. The sound wasn¡¯t coming from one direction¡ªit was everywhere, surrounding him, closing in.


    He took a step back, his eyes darting around the chamber. ¡°No, no, no,¡± he whispered, panic rising again.


    And then, from the shadows, a faint glow appeared. Two piercing yellow eyes, unblinking and fixed directly on him.


    The moment those glowing yellow eyes fixed on him, Soya¡¯s body moved before his mind could catch up. He bolted, his feet pounding against the cold stone floor as the basilisk surged into motion behind him, its massive body scraping and crashing through the chamber with terrifying force.


    The hiss that followed was deafening, like steam escaping from a giant, pressurized vessel. Soya didn¡¯t dare look back¡ªhe could hear the creature¡¯s immense bulk slithering after him, the sound echoing like rolling thunder in the forgotten corridors.


    ¡°Why is it always me?¡± he muttered through ragged breaths, his wand clutched tightly in his hand.


    He darted into a narrow passage, the air thick and damp, and nearly tripped on the uneven stones beneath his feet. The basilisk¡¯s pursuit was relentless, the monstrous serpent¡¯s head smashing through an archway he had barely squeezed through. Rubble exploded behind him, and he stumbled forward, the vibrations shaking the ground as if the entire corridor would collapse.


    The passageway twisted sharply, forcing Soya to make split-second decisions. Left, right, straight¡ªeach choice felt like a gamble, each turn leading him deeper into the labyrinth of forgotten corridors. His heart hammered in his chest as he sprinted blindly, the light from his wand flickering wildly with his erratic movements.


    The basilisk was faster than he¡¯d anticipated, its body coiling and uncoiling with frightening agility despite its size. It roared¡ªan unnatural, guttural sound that reverberated through the air and made Soya¡¯s knees almost buckle. He threw himself forward just as the creature¡¯s massive tail lashed out, shattering a section of wall where he¡¯d been moments before.


    ¡°Not good, not good, not good!¡± he panted, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of destruction.


    He rounded another corner and found himself in a wider corridor, the ceiling vaulted high above and supported by crumbling pillars. He risked a glance over his shoulder and immediately regretted it. The basilisk was closing in, its scales glinting faintly in the dim light of his wand, its eyes glowing like twin beacons of death.


    Soya¡¯s lungs burned as he pushed himself harder, weaving between the pillars in a desperate attempt to slow the creature down. The basilisk followed with horrifying ease, its massive body smashing through the ancient supports as if they were twigs. Dust and debris filled the air, choking him as he sprinted forward.


    A jagged stone jutted out from the floor, and Soya¡¯s foot caught on it. He tumbled forward, his wand skittering out of his hand as he hit the ground hard. Pain flared in his knees and elbows, but he didn¡¯t have time to dwell on it. He scrambled to his feet, snatching up his wand just as the basilisk¡¯s shadow loomed over him.


    ¡°Think, Soya, think!¡± he hissed to himself, his mind racing as he backed away. He pointed his wand at the creature, the tip trembling. ¡°Uh¡ªLumos Maxima!¡±


    A bright flare of light burst forth, illuminating the corridor in a blinding flash. The basilisk recoiled, its massive head jerking back as it let out an ear-piercing screech. Soya seized the opportunity and bolted, his legs screaming in protest as he pushed himself to keep going.


    He stumbled into another chamber, this one filled with what looked like ancient storage crates and broken furniture. The ceiling was lower here, and the air felt stifling, but there were more places to hide. Soya ducked behind a toppled wardrobe, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.


    The basilisk¡¯s hiss echoed ominously from the corridor he¡¯d just left. It was searching for him, its massive body scraping against the walls as it slithered into the chamber. Soya crouched low, his hand pressed over his mouth to stifle his breathing. He peeked through a crack in the wardrobe and saw the serpent¡¯s head swiveling slowly, its glowing eyes scanning the room.


    It knows I¡¯m here, he thought, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure the basilisk could hear it.


    The creature¡¯s forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air, and Soya froze. He couldn¡¯t move, couldn¡¯t breathe, couldn¡¯t even think of what to do next. The basilisk¡¯s head turned toward his hiding spot, its eyes narrowing.


    No, no, no, no¡ª


    The wardrobe exploded into splinters as the basilisk lunged, and Soya threw himself to the side just in time. He hit the ground hard, rolling to avoid the massive jaws snapping inches from his face. He scrambled to his feet, darting toward another exit as the creature roared in frustration.


    The next corridor was narrower, forcing the basilisk to squeeze through, but it didn¡¯t slow it down by much. Soya sprinted ahead, his wandlight flickering as he ran. The air grew colder, and the walls around him began to change, the stone giving way to damp, moss-covered bricks.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    He could hear the basilisk¡¯s hissing growing louder, its immense bulk shaking the ground with every movement. He turned a corner and skidded to a halt, his stomach dropping.


    A dead end.


    ¡°No, no, no!¡± Soya spun on his heel, frantically searching for another way out. The basilisk¡¯s hissing echoed behind him, growing louder and closer with every passing second. The narrow corridor funneled the sound, amplifying it into a deafening roar that made his ears ring.


    His eyes darted around the dead-end chamber, desperate for anything that could help. Above him, the ceiling arched into darkness, crisscrossed with the remnants of rotted wooden beams. On the far wall, a faint outline of what might have been an old door was barely visible beneath layers of dirt and moss.


    His pulse racing, Soya pointed his wand at the wall. ¡°Bombarda!¡±


    The spell hit the door-like outline with a dull thud, sending a shower of debris flying, but the wall held firm.


    ¡°Come on!¡± he cried, his voice breaking. He cast the spell again, and this time the bricks cracked and shifted, but the opening was still too narrow for him to fit through.


    The basilisk rounded the corner, its massive head emerging into the chamber. Its glowing yellow eyes fixed on him, unblinking, and its jaws opened in a bone-chilling hiss. The sound filled the room, shaking the stones beneath his feet.


    Soya stumbled backward, his back pressing against the damaged wall. He raised his wand again, his hand trembling so badly he could barely aim. ¡°Stay back!¡± he shouted, though his voice was barely more than a whisper. ¡°Stay¡ª¡±


    The basilisk lunged, its body coiling as it struck. Soya dropped to the ground, rolling to the side as the creature¡¯s head slammed into the wall where he¡¯d been standing. The impact shook the room, dislodging chunks of stone and sending them crashing to the floor.


    The narrow crack in the wall widened, and cold, damp air rushed into the chamber. Soya didn¡¯t hesitate. Scrambling to his feet, he squeezed through the opening, ignoring the sharp edges of the jagged stone that scraped against his arms and legs.


    The basilisk roared behind him, furious but too large to follow through the tight gap. Soya didn¡¯t look back. He stumbled into the next corridor, his chest heaving as he fought to keep moving.


    The air here was even colder, the darkness even deeper. His wandlight flickered weakly, barely illuminating the path ahead. The walls were rough and uneven, as though this part of the castle had been carved out hastily and then abandoned.


    Soya slowed to a jog, his legs trembling beneath him. His lungs burned, and every breath felt like fire in his chest. But he couldn¡¯t stop¡ªnot yet.


    The basilisk¡¯s roar echoed from somewhere behind him, muffled but still terrifying. Soya gritted his teeth and forced himself to keep going, his mind racing as he tried to figure out where he was and how to get out.


    He turned another corner and found himself in a small chamber, its walls lined with ancient, rusted chains and hooks. The air here was heavy with the smell of damp stone and something else¡ªsomething metallic and faintly sour.


    Soya collapsed against the wall, his legs giving out beneath him. His wandlight dimmed as his grip on it faltered, but he clutched it tightly, unwilling to let go. His entire body ached, and his head spun from exhaustion and fear.


    For a moment, he allowed himself to breathe, to take in his surroundings. He needed to think, to plan his next move. But before he could collect his thoughts, a faint sound reached his ears¡ªa distant scraping, slow and deliberate.


    His heart sank.


    The basilisk wasn¡¯t giving up. It was still coming for him.


    He stood and began to run once more, using the walls to steady himself, until he came across a chamber.


    Soya stumbled into the chamber, panting heavily and clutching his side. His wand hung loosely in his hand, nearly forgotten as he backed away from the corridor where the massive basilisk prowled. The creature''s roars echoed faintly in the distance, but something held it at bay. Soya turned, his eyes widening at the sight of the room he had entered.


    It was unlike anything he had seen before. The walls were covered in ancient, gilded frames, each housing a portrait that seemed almost alive. Figures within the paintings shifted and murmured, their eyes following him as he moved. A soft, golden light emanated from the room''s high, domed ceiling, casting an ethereal glow over the scene. At the center of the chamber stood a large, circular table made of polished stone, inscribed with intricate runes that seemed to pulse faintly.


    Soya stepped cautiously toward the nearest portrait. The painted figure¡ªa stern-looking man with sharp features and a piercing gaze¡ªstirred within the frame. "Ah, a student," the man said, his voice resonating with authority. "What brings you to the Hall of Founders?"


    "H-Hall of Founders?" Soya stammered, his eyes darting to the door behind him. "I¡ªI didn¡¯t mean to¡­ I was running, and¡ª"


    The man raised a hand, silencing him. "Calm yourself, young one. This chamber is not easily stumbled upon. You must have been brought here for a reason."


    Another voice chimed in, this one soft and melodic. Soya turned to see a woman in a flowing dress, her portrait framed by twisting vines. "You look frightened, child. What pursues you?"


    "A basilisk," Soya blurted, his voice shaking. "It¡ªit followed me, but it can¡¯t get in here. I don¡¯t know why."


    The portraits exchanged glances, their expressions ranging from concern to intrigue. A third figure, a tall man in rugged clothing with a carved staff in hand, leaned forward in his frame. "The wards on this chamber are ancient, designed to keep even the most formidable creatures at bay. You are safe here, for now."


    Soya sank to his knees, relief flooding through him. He let his wand drop to the floor and buried his face in his hands. "I don¡¯t know what to do," he admitted. "I¡¯m just a first-year. I don¡¯t know any spells that can stop something like that."


    "Then you must learn," the stern man said sharply. "Knowledge is your greatest weapon, and this chamber holds much of it."


    The woman with the vines nodded. "Indeed. Allow us to introduce ourselves. I am Marlee Bunjil, founder of Bunjil House. My specialty was in seeing the unseen, understanding the balance of the world."


    "And I am Jacko Thylacea," the rugged man said with a nod. "Founder of Thylacea House, where resourcefulness and adaptability are paramount."


    The stern man spoke again. "Yarramundi Gubboo, founder of Yarramundi House. My focus was on ambition and discovery."


    Finally, a fourth portrait stirred, revealing a serene woman with flowing hair and a calm expression. "Tully Ningaloo," she said, her voice like a gentle wave. "Founder of Ningaloo House, where loyalty and perseverance are cherished."


    Soya¡¯s mouth fell open. He had read about the founders during his first weeks at Austramore, but meeting them¡ªalbeit in portrait form¡ªwas beyond anything he had imagined. "I¡­ I don¡¯t know what to say."


    "You need not say much," Marlee said gently. "But you must listen. The creature that pursues you is no ordinary basilisk."


    "It¡¯s larger than the other one I saw," Soya said, his voice trembling. "And it¡¯s stronger. I barely escaped."


    Jacko leaned forward, his expression grim. "That creature has been altered¡ªenchanted, likely by dark magic. Its runes are designed to repel most spells. A dangerous foe for any wizard, let alone a student."


    "What should I do?" Soya asked desperately. "I can¡¯t fight it, and I don¡¯t know how to get out of here."


    "You will not fight it," Tully said firmly. "You will outwit it. But first, you must understand what you are dealing with."


    Yarramundi gestured to the runes on the table. "These markings may offer insight. Approach, and we shall guide you."


    Soya hesitated, then stepped forward. As he placed his hands on the table, the runes began to glow brighter, their patterns shifting and rearranging. The founders¡¯ voices blended together, each offering wisdom and encouragement as Soya tried to make sense of the symbols.


    "These are runes of containment," Marlee explained. "Similar to what Eliza was studying at the lake."


    "Eliza?" Soya¡¯s heart raced. "Do you know where she is?"


    The portraits fell silent for a moment before Yarramundi spoke. "We do not, but her disappearance is linked to the magic that binds this creature. If you wish to find her, you must unravel this mystery."


    "But I don¡¯t know how," Soya said, his voice cracking.


    "You will," Jacko said firmly. "You have the spirit of a Thylacean¡ªadaptable, quick-thinking, and brave, even if you don¡¯t see it yet. Trust in yourself, and trust in us. We will help you."


    As the runes continued to shift and glow, Soya felt a spark of determination ignite within him. The founders¡¯ guidance, combined with the knowledge hidden in this chamber, was his best chance to survive¡ªand to uncover the truth.


    The room fell silent, save for the faint hum of the glowing runes on the table before Soya. The founders¡¯ portraits watched him intently, their expressions a mix of anticipation and solemnity.


    "To escape this predicament and face the trials ahead, you will need more than cleverness and instinct," Yarramundi Gubboo said, his voice firm but not unkind. "You must wield power rooted in the earth itself¡ªancient magic, born from the very essence of this land."


    Marlee Bunjil stepped forward in her frame, her eyes shimmering with a vibrant, otherworldly light. "This magic is not for the faint of heart, Soya. It is raw, untamed, and drawn directly from the balance of nature. To channel it, you must connect with the energy around you and inscribe it into existence with your intent."


    "Runic magic will form the foundation," Tully Ningaloo added, her tone soothing. "But it is nature¡¯s force that will give it life. Together, they will create something more than either could alone."


    Soya¡¯s grip on the table tightened as he absorbed their words. "What kind of magic is this? I¡¯ve never heard of anything like it."


    Jacko Thylacea chuckled softly, the warmth of his voice cutting through the tension. "Few have. It¡¯s older than the castle itself, passed down in whispers and legends. We call it Gaian Script."


    "Gaian Script?" Soya repeated, his voice tinged with awe.


    "It¡¯s a spell that channels the raw energy of the earth through runic inscriptions," Marlee explained. "With it, you can summon barriers, traps, or even bursts of force¡ªwhatever the situation demands. But its form and power depend entirely on your focus and will."


    "And remember," Yarramundi said sharply, "this magic is a tool, not a crutch. Use it wisely, or it will consume you."


    The founders gestured toward the glowing runes on the table, which began to shift and rearrange themselves into a new, intricate pattern. The symbols pulsed with a green-gold light, their shapes fluid yet precise. Marlee¡¯s voice softened as she instructed Soya.


    "First, clear your mind. Focus on the energy in the air, the stone beneath your feet, the life in the walls around you. Feel the connection between yourself and the world."


    Soya closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath. He tried to tune out the fear still clawing at his thoughts and instead focused on the sensations around him. The cool stone of the chamber, the faint hum of magic in the air, and even the distant rumble of the basilisk outside. Slowly, a strange warmth began to spread through him, as though he were tapping into something vast and ancient.


    "Good," Tully said encouragingly. "Now, let that energy flow into your wand. Picture the runes as you saw them on the table and carve them into the air with your intent. They do not need to be perfect¡ªonly precise in their meaning."


    Soya opened his eyes and raised his wand, the warmth in his chest intensifying. With careful, deliberate movements, he began to trace the runes in the air. Glowing green lines followed the tip of his wand, forming an intricate, circular pattern that shimmered like sunlight filtering through leaves.


    "Excellent," Jacko said, nodding approvingly. "Now, channel your purpose. What do you need? Protection? Distraction? Power? The spell will respond to your intent."


    Soya hesitated, his mind racing. The basilisk was still out there, hunting him. He needed something that could keep it at bay¡ªsomething strong enough to give him a chance to escape. He focused his thoughts, pouring his desperation and determination into the runes.


    As he completed the pattern, the glowing lines surged with light, and a wave of energy burst forth from the spell. The air around him seemed to thrum with power, and the stone floor beneath his feet shifted as thick, twisting vines erupted from the ground. The vines wove together, forming a dense, impenetrable barrier around the chamber¡¯s entrance. Their surfaces glimmered faintly with runic symbols, reinforcing their strength.


    "Impressive," Marlee said, a hint of pride in her voice. "You¡¯ve created a warding barrier, one rooted in both nature and magic. It will hold against the basilisk¡ªfor now."


    Soya lowered his wand, his chest heaving as the glow of the spell faded. He stared at the barrier, disbelief and awe warring within him. "I¡­ I did that?"


    "You did," Tully said with a gentle smile. "But this is only the beginning. Gaian Script is a living magic, shaped by your will and your growth. The more you practice, the more it will evolve."


    Yarramundi stepped forward in his frame, his expression stern but approving. "You have the potential, Soya Vareen. But remember, this power is a responsibility. Use it to protect, to learn, and to uncover the truth¡ªbut never to harm without cause."


    Soya nodded, still trying to process what had just happened. The founders¡¯ voices began to fade as the runes on the table dimmed, their light retreating back into the stone. But their words lingered in his mind, a steady guide amidst the chaos.


    As the chamber fell silent once more, Soya turned to face the barrier he had created. The vines stood strong, their runic symbols glowing softly in the dim light.

 Chapter 20: The Calm

    Soya crouched low, his breathing shallow as he pressed his back against the cold, damp wall of the forgotten chamber. The vines he had conjured stood strong at the entrance, their faintly glowing runes a testament to the power he had just unleashed. But he knew they wouldn¡¯t hold forever. The basilisk was still out there, and it was only a matter of time before it found another way to reach him.


    The chamber he had found himself in was dimly lit, the only light coming from the faint luminescence of ancient moss clinging to the walls and the soft glow of long-forgotten magical symbols etched into the stone. The air was thick with dust, and the faint smell of mildew clung to his nostrils. It was clear this part of the school hadn¡¯t been touched in centuries.


    Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Soya edged away from the barrier and deeper into the corridor beyond the chamber. His steps were light and careful, his wand gripped tightly in his hand. Every creak of the floor and shift of stone echoed ominously, making his heart pound in his chest.


    The walls were lined with faded tapestries, their colors long drained by time. They depicted scenes of wizards and witches in battle, their wands raised against shadowy figures. Beneath them, long-forgotten plaques were etched in a language he couldn¡¯t read, their letters curling like vines. Soya stopped to study one, his fingers brushing the worn surface. The letters glowed faintly under his touch, but they revealed no secrets. Whatever stories this place held, they were locked away in a language lost to history.


    The corridor branched into two paths ahead, each as dark and foreboding as the other. Soya hesitated, his ears straining for any sound of movement. A faint scraping echoed from the left, and his stomach twisted in fear. He opted for the right, moving as quickly and quietly as he could.


    As he ventured deeper, the air grew colder, and the faint sound of dripping water became more pronounced. The stone beneath his feet was slick with moisture, forcing him to tread carefully to avoid slipping. The corridor widened into what appeared to be an old classroom. Desks and chairs lay scattered and broken, their wood rotted and splintered. Shelves lined the walls, filled with jars containing unidentifiable substances. Most had turned to sludge, their labels too faded to read.


    Soya stepped cautiously around the room, his eyes darting to every shadow. The silence pressed against him like a weight, amplifying every creak and whisper of his movement. On one of the desks, he found a small, tarnished mirror. Picking it up, he noticed faint carvings on its surface¡ªmore runes, though these were unfamiliar and less refined than the ones he had seen before.


    He tucked the mirror into his bag, unsure if it would be of any use but unwilling to leave it behind. The idea of a magical artifact, even a broken one, gave him a flicker of hope. Anything that could help him survive this ordeal was worth holding onto.


    A sudden thud echoed in the distance, followed by a low, guttural hiss that sent a chill down his spine. Soya froze, his wand trembling slightly in his hand as his eyes darted toward the source of the sound. The basilisk was close.


    Panic surged through him, but he forced himself to stay calm. He crouched low and moved toward the opposite door, slipping out of the classroom and into another corridor. This one was narrower, the walls closer together and adorned with faded carvings of strange symbols. The floor here was uneven, with patches of moss and lichen creeping up the walls.


    The hissing grew louder, accompanied by the faint scrape of scales against stone. Soya¡¯s breath quickened as he pressed himself into a shadowed alcove, his heart hammering against his ribs. He clutched his wand tighter, his mind racing through the few spells he knew. None of them would help against a creature like this.


    The basilisk¡¯s massive shadow passed by the far end of the corridor, its outline barely visible in the dim light. Soya held his breath, his body pressed as flat as possible against the wall. The creature paused, its head turning slightly as if sensing something. Its glowing yellow eyes scanned the corridor, the faint shimmer of its gaze sending a cold dread through him.


    Soya shut his eyes tightly, trying to block out the fear. He counted silently in his head, each second feeling like an eternity. Finally, the hissing and scraping began to fade as the basilisk moved away, its massive form disappearing into the darkness.


    Releasing the breath he hadn¡¯t realized he was holding, Soya carefully stepped out of the alcove and continued down the corridor. His legs felt like jelly, but he forced himself to move, his focus narrowing to the task at hand: find a way out.


    The corridor eventually opened into a vast, circular chamber. The ceiling was high and domed, with intricate carvings of stars and constellations etched into the stone. At the center of the room stood a pedestal, its surface covered in dust and debris. Surrounding the pedestal were shattered remnants of statues, their pieces scattered across the floor.


    Soya approached cautiously, his wand raised as he scanned the room for any signs of danger. The pedestal bore more runes, though these were more ornate and complex than any he had seen before. They glowed faintly, their light pulsating like a heartbeat. He reached out to brush away the dust, but a faint vibration stopped him.


    The ground beneath his feet trembled slightly, and the air seemed to hum with energy. Soya stepped back, his gaze darting to the shadows. The chamber was still, but the sense of being watched was stronger than ever. Whatever secrets this place held, they weren¡¯t meant to be disturbed.


    Soya¡¯s grip on his wand tightened as he turned back to the corridor he had entered from. The basilisk was still out there, and he had no choice but to keep moving. Steeling himself, he left the chamber behind and ventured deeper into the forgotten corridors, each step taking him further into the unknown.


    Soya pressed forward, his breaths shallow and quick, every creak of the stone beneath his feet making him wince. The darkness around him felt alive, twisting and writhing as his wand¡¯s faint glow illuminated his path. Each corridor he entered seemed more treacherous than the last, filled with jagged stones and ominous carvings. His legs burned from constant movement, but the fear of what lurked behind kept him going.


    As he rounded a corner, he noticed a slight shift in the air. It was no longer as stale and damp as before. Instead, it carried a faint breeze, cool and fresh. He paused, trying to pinpoint its source. His fingers brushed against the uneven stone wall as he crept forward, his eyes scanning the dim corridor for anything out of place.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    There it was¡ªa narrow crack in the wall, barely noticeable in the low light. The breeze was coming from within. Soya leaned closer, squinting to see better. The crack wasn¡¯t natural; it was jagged but deliberate, as if the wall had been split open by magic or force.


    His heart quickened as he pushed his fingers into the gap and felt the stone give slightly under pressure. With a grunt, he pressed harder, and the wall shifted with a low groan, revealing a hidden passage just wide enough for him to squeeze through. The faint breeze carried with it a smell he hadn¡¯t realized he¡¯d missed¡ªthe faint aroma of cooking and the distant hum of familiar voices. It was the smell of the school.


    Soya didn¡¯t waste time. He slipped into the passage, his movements quick but careful as he edged through the narrow space. The air grew fresher with each step, and the faint sounds of activity grew louder. He could make out muffled voices now, though he couldn¡¯t discern the words. It was a comforting reminder that the school above wasn¡¯t as far away as he had feared.


    The passage opened into a narrow staircase, its steps uneven and worn with age. Faint torchlight flickered at the top, casting shadows that danced along the walls. Soya climbed cautiously, his wand still raised, ready to cast whatever weak spells he could manage if needed. His nerves were taut, every muscle in his body prepared to bolt if he heard so much as a hiss.


    At the top of the stairs, he found another hidden door, this one slightly ajar. He pushed it open carefully, revealing a small storage room cluttered with old crates and cobweb-covered shelves. The air here was warmer, the hum of voices now clear and distinct.


    Soya stepped into the room, his eyes scanning for any immediate danger. Finding none, he let out a shaky breath and moved toward the door on the far side. He eased it open, and the light and sound of the Lower Pantries flooded his senses.


    The hallway outside was quiet, but not empty. A few house elves were passing by, their chatter echoing faintly off the walls. The Lower Kitchen itself was just ahead, its large doors slightly ajar, revealing the warm glow of its enchanted ovens. Soya¡¯s heart leaped at the sight. He was back¡ªback in the familiar, structured chaos of Austramore.


    But his relief was short-lived. The weight of what he had just experienced pressed down on him like a boulder. The forgotten corridors, the basilisk, the ancient chamber¡ªit all felt surreal, like a nightmare he couldn¡¯t shake. He leaned against the wall, his mind racing as he tried to decide what to do next.


    The basilisk was still out there. The professors needed to know. But first, he needed to find Davonte and Draven. He wasn¡¯t sure how he¡¯d explain what had happened, but one thing was certain¡ªhe couldn¡¯t face this alone.


    Soya crouched low, hugging the shadowed wall of the corridor as he crept toward the entrance to the Thylacea common room. His heart pounded in his chest, every step calculated to avoid the faint creaks of the old floorboards. The events of the previous night weighed on him like a physical burden, but the thought of seeing Davonte and Draven again drove him forward.


    The heavy wooden door to the common room loomed ahead, its carved surface faintly illuminated by the torches lining the corridor. Soya hesitated, his mind racing. How was he going to explain this? Would they even believe him?


    Before he could come up with a plan, the sharp voice of a prefect pierced the quiet.


    ¡°And where exactly do you think you¡¯re going?¡±


    Soya froze, his stomach sinking. Slowly, he turned to see Thalia Greaves, her arms crossed and a disapproving glare fixed on him. She had clearly been making her rounds, her wand casting a soft glow that illuminated her stern expression.


    ¡°I¡ªuh,¡± Soya stammered, scrambling for an excuse. ¡°I was just... I needed some air.¡±


    ¡°Air?¡± Thalia repeated, her tone dripping with skepticism. ¡°During a lockdown? Do you have any idea how serious this is? You¡¯re lucky I¡¯m the one who found you.¡±


    Soya¡¯s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he bit back the urge to argue. He couldn¡¯t exactly tell her he¡¯d been in a forgotten part of the school being chased by a basilisk.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Thalia said firmly, grabbing his arm and steering him toward the common room door. ¡°You¡¯re going straight back in, and we¡¯re going to have a little chat about following rules.¡±


    Soya kept his head down, grateful she hadn¡¯t pressed for more details. As they reached the door, Thalia muttered the password, and the entrance creaked open to reveal the familiar warmth of the Thylacea common room. The sight was almost overwhelming after the dark, oppressive corridors he¡¯d been navigating.


    Inside, students were scattered in small groups, their murmured conversations halting as the door opened. Soya¡¯s eyes immediately darted to the far corner, where Davonte was pacing like a caged animal. His silver eyes snapped to Soya, and in an instant, he was sprinting across the room.


    ¡°Soya!¡± Davonte¡¯s voice cracked with a mix of relief and anger as he skidded to a halt in front of him. ¡°Where in Merlin¡¯s name have you been?!¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡± Soya started, but he didn¡¯t get a chance to finish. Davonte grabbed his shoulders, shaking him slightly.


    ¡°We thought you were dead!¡± Davonte¡¯s voice was rising now, drawing the attention of the entire common room. ¡°I saw you get thrown through a wall by a bloody basilisk! Do you have any idea how¡ªhow¡ª¡± His voice broke, and he let go, running a hand through his disheveled hair. ¡°We¡¯ve been stuck here all night, and they wouldn¡¯t let us look for you.¡±


    Thalia stepped in, her expression sharp. ¡°What do you mean, ¡®look for him¡¯? Did he sneak out last night?¡±


    Davonte clamped his mouth shut, shooting Soya a panicked look. Soya quickly shook his head. ¡°No! I just... I got lost trying to find the bathroom.¡±


    Thalia narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced. ¡°Lost for an entire night?¡±


    ¡°It''s a big castle,¡± Soya muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.


    Before Thalia could press further, Draven stepped forward, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to Davonte¡¯s near-hysteria. ¡°Perhaps we should focus on the fact that he¡¯s here now, unharmed. Further interrogation won¡¯t change that.¡±


    Thalia frowned but seemed to relent. ¡°Fine. But if I catch any of you sneaking out again, there will be consequences. Consider this your only warning.¡±


    With that, she turned and walked off, leaving the three boys in a tense silence. Davonte let out a shaky breath and pulled Soya into a tight hug, ignoring the surprised look on Soya¡¯s face.


    ¡°Don¡¯t ever do that again,¡± Davonte muttered, his voice muffled. ¡°I mean it, mate.¡±


    Soya hesitated before patting Davonte¡¯s back awkwardly. ¡°I didn¡¯t exactly plan it, you know.¡±


    Draven cleared his throat, his piercing gaze settling on Soya. ¡°It would seem you¡¯ve had quite the adventure. I trust there¡¯s a story behind your extended absence?¡±


    ¡°There is,¡± Soya said, his voice steadying as he pulled back from Davonte. ¡°But I think we should talk somewhere quieter.¡±


    Davonte nodded, his earlier anger giving way to curiosity and concern. ¡°Yeah. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    The three of them moved to their usual spot by the fireplace, the warmth of the flames doing little to chase away the chill in Soya¡¯s bones. As he sat down, the weight of the past twenty-four hours pressed down on him, but he knew he couldn¡¯t keep it to himself.


    Taking a deep breath, he began to tell them everything.

 Chapter 21: Perspectives

    Soya sat cross-legged near the common room window, his sketchbook balanced on his knees. The light filtering through the enchanted panes cast soft, shifting patterns across the floor. His pencil hovered hesitantly over the page, the events of the previous night replaying vividly in his mind. Every detail felt etched into his memory¡ªthe basilisk, the old corridors, and the portraits that seemed alive with secrets.


    Across the room, Davonte paced near the fireplace, his usual composure replaced with a restless energy. His silver eyes darted toward Soya occasionally, as though ensuring he was still there. The tension between them was palpable, though neither spoke of it directly.


    ¡°You¡¯ve barely said anything since last night,¡± Davonte finally muttered, breaking the silence. ¡°I mean, you disappeared, got smacked through a wall by a bloody basilisk, and now you¡¯re just... drawing?¡±


    Soya glanced up, his expression faintly apologetic. ¡°It helps me think,¡± he murmured, though the truth was that drawing was his way of grounding himself. The swirling chaos of his mind needed an outlet, and his sketchbook provided it.


    Before Davonte could respond, the door to the prefect¡¯s corner creaked open, and Thalia Greaves stepped out, her sharp gaze sweeping the room. She held a parchment in her hand, sealed with the Austramore crest. Without a word, she walked toward the bulletin board and pinned it up, her lips pressed into a thin line.


    ¡°What¡¯s that about?¡± Davonte asked, moving to get a closer look.


    Thalia didn¡¯t answer immediately, instead turning to address the room. ¡°Stay here,¡± she said firmly. ¡°No exceptions.¡±


    With that, she left, her robes billowing behind her as she disappeared into the hallway. Davonte read the parchment aloud, his voice dripping with skepticism. ¡°¡®Students are to remain in their common rooms until further notice. Prefects will ensure compliance. This is for your safety.¡¯ Yeah, because that¡¯s reassuring.¡±


    Soya sighed, setting his sketchbook aside. ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯re getting any real answers.¡±


    ¡°Obviously,¡± Davonte said, tossing the parchment back onto the board. ¡°But sitting around here isn¡¯t going to fix anything.¡±


    Soya opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by a sudden shift in the narrative¡ªone that took the reader far from the Thylacea common room.


    Seikan Blackthorn leaned over his cluttered desk, his sharp features illuminated by the flickering light of a floating candle. The potions professor¡¯s office was a chaotic blend of alchemical tools, ancient texts, and enchanted jars filled with substances that glowed, bubbled, or hissed faintly. The air was thick with the scent of crushed herbs and something acrid he hadn¡¯t yet identified.


    He tapped the tip of his quill against the desk, his dark eyes scanning the report before him. The lockdown had been a necessary precaution, but it was also a logistical nightmare. Containing a basilisk within the walls of Austramore was no small feat, and the additional sightings of strange runes only added to the complexity.


    A soft knock at the door drew his attention. ¡°Enter,¡± he called, his voice smooth but edged with impatience.


    Professor Elise Marilla stepped inside, her oceanic robes trailing behind her like waves. ¡°Seikan,¡± she began, her tone clipped, ¡°I trust you¡¯ve read the latest report?¡±


    He gestured to the parchment on his desk. ¡°If by ¡®latest report,¡¯ you mean this ambiguous drivel, then yes. ¡®Unusual activity in the western corridors,¡¯ ¡®rune remnants detected near the breached wall¡¯¡ªhardly actionable information.¡±


    Marilla¡¯s expression hardened. ¡°We¡¯re doing our best under the circumstances. The basilisk is contained for now, but that¡¯s the least of our concerns. The wards near the lake have weakened significantly. If another breach occurs¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m well aware of the stakes,¡± Seikan interrupted, his voice low but firm. ¡°But patching wards isn¡¯t a long-term solution. We need to understand what caused the breach in the first place.¡±


    Marilla hesitated before nodding. ¡°I¡¯ve sent scouts to investigate further. We¡¯ll need your expertise if we uncover anything involving runic magic.¡±


    Seikan waved a hand dismissively. ¡°Of course. Keep me informed.¡±


    As Marilla turned to leave, Seikan¡¯s gaze lingered on the door. He had a sinking feeling that the events unfolding at Austramore were only the beginning. The runes, the basilisk, and the strange energy emanating from the depths of the school¡ªit all pointed to something far more dangerous than they had anticipated.


    Returning to his desk, he picked up his quill and began sketching a series of runes, his mind racing with possibilities. Somewhere in the labyrinthine halls of Austramore, answers lay waiting¡ªand Seikan intended to find them.


    Chapter 19 - Part 2


    Seikan Blackthorn sat in his office, his sharp eyes darting between the various parchments and reports strewn across his desk. The flickering light from his enchanted lamp cast jagged shadows across the room, highlighting the tension etched into his features. The events of the past week were far too calculated to be coincidence, and each piece of information felt like a shard of a puzzle that refused to fit together.


    He reached for the nearest document, a report from the wards team tasked with analyzing the breach in the castle walls. The runes etched into the massive creature¡¯s horns, the inexplicable resistance to magic, and the nearly fatal encounter with the basilisk by the lake¡ªthey all pointed to deliberate, malevolent intent.


    A sharp knock at the door broke his concentration.


    ¡°Enter,¡± he called, his voice low and clipped.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    The door creaked open, and Headmaster Boromus Spellchecker stepped inside. Despite his age, the headmaster carried himself with an aura of command. His flowing emerald robes seemed to shimmer faintly with protective enchantments, and his piercing eyes betrayed no hint of weariness.


    ¡°Seikan,¡± Spellchecker began, his tone steady but grave. ¡°I trust you¡¯ve made some progress?¡±


    Seikan gestured to the piles of parchment on his desk. ¡°Progress, yes. Solutions? Not yet. Sit, Headmaster. We have much to discuss.¡±


    Spellchecker closed the door behind him and took a seat opposite Seikan, his gaze sweeping over the chaotic desk. ¡°Start from the beginning. Summarize what we know.¡±


    Seikan leaned back slightly, steepling his fingers as he organized his thoughts. ¡°First, the basilisk at the lake. It wasn¡¯t a random appearance. Someone¡ªor something¡ªremoved the binding rune that kept it dormant. The rune itself was ancient, likely predating Austramore¡¯s founding. Its removal unleashed the creature, endangering students.¡±


    Spellchecker nodded, his expression unreadable. ¡°And the students who encountered it?¡±


    ¡°Safe, thankfully,¡± Seikan replied, though his voice was tinged with frustration. ¡°But the incident raises questions. Who placed that rune originally, and why was it removed now?¡±


    ¡°Continue,¡± Spellchecker prompted.


    ¡°Next, the breach in the castle walls,¡± Seikan said, his tone growing sharper. ¡°A massive creature, nearly indestructible, marked with glowing runes. It tore through enchanted stone as if it were parchment. Its runes are unlike anything I¡¯ve seen¡ªancient and dark, designed to dampen or deflect magic. This creature didn¡¯t act randomly. It was sent.¡±


    Spellchecker¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°By whom?¡±


    ¡°That,¡± Seikan admitted, ¡°is the question I can¡¯t answer. But whoever or whatever is responsible has a deep understanding of both runic and magical constructs. This isn¡¯t the work of an amateur.¡±


    Spellchecker leaned forward slightly, his fingers resting on the edge of the desk. ¡°And the strange runes appearing around the school grounds?¡±


    Seikan tapped a finger against a parchment displaying sketches of the runes. ¡°They¡¯re connected. These runes aren¡¯t just appearing randomly¡ªthey¡¯re placed with intent. Some are bindings, others seem to disrupt our wards, and a few are outright offensive. It¡¯s as though someone is testing the limits of Austramore¡¯s defenses.¡±


    Spellchecker¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°Have you determined their origin?¡±


    ¡°Not definitively,¡± Seikan admitted, his frustration evident. ¡°But there are hints of ancient Austramorian magic, blended with something... foreign. It¡¯s a hybrid form, combining elements of traditional spellwork and raw magical energy.¡±


    The headmaster was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the sketches. ¡°What about the students? Any indication they¡¯ve been targeted specifically?¡±


    Seikan hesitated before responding. ¡°There are patterns. Eliza¡¯s disappearance, for instance¡ªshe was investigating the rune by the lake before she vanished. Soya and Davonte encountered the creature with the runes and have been unnervingly close to several incidents. It¡¯s as if someone is either testing them or using them as pawns.¡±


    Spellchecker¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line. ¡°This is far more deliberate than I feared.¡±


    ¡°I agree,¡± Seikan said. ¡°But we¡¯re missing critical pieces. The connection between these events is undeniable, but the motive remains unclear. What is the endgame? Chaos? Power? Something else?¡±


    Spellchecker stood, his presence commanding despite the gravity of the discussion. ¡°Seikan, I trust your judgment and expertise in this matter. Continue your research, but take no unnecessary risks. The safety of the students must remain our priority.¡±


    Seikan inclined his head. ¡°Understood. But Headmaster, if I may¡ªwhat do you make of this?¡±


    Spellchecker¡¯s gaze met Seikan¡¯s, his voice calm but firm. ¡°It¡¯s a challenge. One aimed not just at our defenses, but at our very understanding of magic itself. Whoever is behind this is testing us. But they underestimate one thing.¡±


    ¡°And that is?¡± Seikan asked.


    Spellchecker¡¯s eyes gleamed with resolve. ¡°Austramore has stood for centuries, through wars, betrayals, and dark magic. It will not fall now.¡±


    With that, Spellchecker turned and left the office, his robes trailing behind him. Seikan watched him go, his mind racing with possibilities.


    Seikan¡¯s office was quiet except for the soft hum of magical wards and the faint crackle of the enchanted fireplace. He rubbed his temples, the weight of the conversation with Spellchecker still heavy on his mind. Sighing, he rose from his chair and shuffled to his small kitchenette. A strong cup of coffee was the least he deserved after pouring over cursed runes, marauding basilisks, and indestructible beasts.


    He reached for his favorite mug¡ªa plain black one with the words ¡°World¡¯s Okayest Wizard¡± magically glowing in faint silver¡ªand filled it with steaming, dark brew. As he turned back toward his desk, the mug slipped from his fingers.


    ¡°No¡ª!¡± Seikan¡¯s hand shot out in a frantic attempt to catch it, but the cup began its slow, inevitable descent.


    Just as the mug spun mid-air, the scene shifted abruptly.


    ---


    ¡°Checkmate.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not!¡± Davonte¡¯s voice rang out in frustration, his silver eyes narrowing as he leaned over the chessboard in the Thylacea common room. The enchanted pieces quivered nervously under his gaze, particularly his beleaguered knight, which was barely hanging on by a chipped visor.


    ¡°It is,¡± Draven replied evenly, his tone calm and completely devoid of smugness, which somehow made it worse. He tapped the head of his queen piece, which moved forward with a decisive clink, toppling Davonte¡¯s king.


    ¡°Again!¡± Davonte groaned, sinking dramatically into his chair. ¡°This stupid game is rigged.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not rigged,¡± Draven said, resetting the board with a flick of his wand. The pieces scrambled back to their starting positions, looking visibly relieved to have a momentary reprieve. ¡°You simply lack strategic discipline.¡±


    ¡°Strategic¡ªwhat now?¡± Davonte frowned, his tone as sharp as his hair. ¡°Big words don¡¯t win games, genius.¡±


    ¡°They do when you use them to outthink your opponent,¡± Draven replied, his gray eyes flashing with quiet amusement. ¡°Would you like me to explain basic opening tactics again?¡±


    ¡°No thanks,¡± Davonte muttered. ¡°I¡¯m not in the mood for a lecture.¡±


    Soya sat cross-legged on the couch beside them, his sketchbook resting forgotten on his lap as he watched the game unfold. ¡°I think it¡¯s kind of fun,¡± he offered tentatively, though he kept his tone neutral. ¡°You know... watching. Not playing.¡±


    ¡°You should play, mate,¡± Davonte said, gesturing toward the board. ¡°Draven¡¯s been wiping the floor with me for the past hour. It¡¯s time for a fresh victim.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for the vote of confidence,¡± Soya muttered, though he couldn¡¯t help but smile faintly.


    ¡°You can¡¯t win if you don¡¯t try,¡± Draven said, his voice as monotone as ever but tinged with an odd sort of encouragement. ¡°I could provide guidance as you play.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± Soya said dryly. ¡°So I¡¯ll have two people shouting advice at me.¡±


    Davonte grinned. ¡°Come on, Soya. How bad could it be?¡±


    ¡°Famous last words,¡± Soya muttered, sliding off the couch and taking Davonte¡¯s seat. He glanced nervously at the board, the tiny chess pieces shifting slightly as if preparing themselves for an impending disaster.


    Draven raised an eyebrow. ¡°Shall we begin?¡±


    ¡°Uh... sure?¡± Soya picked up a pawn, holding it uncertainly. ¡°So... I just move this forward, right?¡±


    ¡°Correct,¡± Draven said, nodding approvingly. ¡°But consider the implications of your move. Advancing that pawn opens up your defense slightly, but it also places pressure on my center pieces.¡±


    ¡°Pressure?¡± Soya frowned, setting the pawn down. ¡°It¡¯s just a pawn.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s never just a pawn,¡± Draven replied, his tone gravely serious. ¡°Every piece on the board has a purpose. Pawns are often underestimated, but they can control the flow of the game.¡±


    Soya blinked. ¡°You¡¯re taking this way too seriously.¡±


    ¡°Welcome to my world,¡± Davonte muttered, leaning back in his chair and tossing a chocolate frog into his mouth. ¡°Just wait till he starts talking about the ¡®psychological impact¡¯ of moving your rook.¡±


    Draven adjusted his glasses. ¡°The psychological impact of a rook¡¯s positioning cannot be understated.¡±


    Soya groaned but moved his pawn forward again. The game unfolded slowly, with Draven offering methodical advice and Davonte chiming in with loud, often incorrect observations. Despite himself, Soya found the tension of the lockdown easing slightly.


    It wasn¡¯t much, but it felt good to laugh again¡ªeven if it was at Davonte¡¯s terrible chess strategies.

 Chapter 22: Past Events

    Soya sat on the floor of the Thylacea common room, his sketchbook in front of him. The room hummed with quiet conversations, but he barely noticed the noise around him. His quill glided over the page, creating lines that seemed to form without conscious thought.


    Davonte, lounging on a nearby couch, watched him with mild curiosity. "Still drawing, mate? You¡¯ve been at that for ages."


    Soya didn¡¯t reply immediately, his focus locked on the paper. The lines he sketched began to take shape¡ªa narrow corridor filled with shelves stretching endlessly into the dark. His hand moved faster, adding intricate details: the faint glimmer of enchanted lanterns, the heavy spines of ancient books, and the faint wisp of mist curling along the floor.


    Davonte leaned forward, peering over Soya¡¯s shoulder. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to be?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Soya admitted, his voice distant. ¡°It just¡­ came to me.¡±


    The drawing grew more vivid as if the ink itself carried a life of its own. Shadows deepened, and the lanterns seemed to flicker faintly on the page. Davonte squinted, rubbing his eyes. ¡°Is it just me, or does that look like¡ª?¡±


    ¡°The Whispering Archives,¡± Soya finished, his voice a whisper.


    A chill ran down his spine as the image on the page shifted. A book, larger and more ornate than the others, appeared on one of the shelves. Its cover was embossed with runes that seemed to shimmer faintly, their design unfamiliar yet oddly compelling. The ink pulsed softly as though calling out to him.


    Davonte blinked, his voice tight with unease. ¡°Did¡­ did you just add that?¡±


    Soya shook his head, his hands trembling slightly as he held the sketchbook. ¡°No. It just¡­ happened.¡±


    For a moment, neither of them spoke. The common room seemed to fade away, leaving only the eerie presence of the drawing and the weight of its implications.


    ¡°What does it mean?¡± Davonte asked, his usual humor absent.


    Soya traced a finger over the drawn runes, his brow furrowed. ¡°I don¡¯t know. But I think it¡¯s important. Look at the book¡ªit¡¯s different. It feels like it¡¯s trying to tell me something.¡±


    ¡°Feels?¡± Davonte echoed, his voice skeptical but tinged with worry. ¡°Mate, it¡¯s just a drawing.¡±


    Soya shook his head again, more firmly this time. ¡°No, it¡¯s more than that. I can¡¯t explain it, but¡­ I think Eliza¡¯s there. In the Archives. This book¡ªwhatever it is¡ªhas something to do with her.¡±


    Davonte frowned, glancing from Soya to the sketchbook. ¡°You¡¯re sure about this?¡±


    ¡°As sure as I can be,¡± Soya replied, closing the sketchbook and hugging it tightly to his chest. ¡°We have to check the Archives. If Eliza¡¯s there, we can¡¯t just leave her.¡±


    Davonte hesitated, then nodded. ¡°Alright. But we¡¯re not going alone. Draven¡¯s gotta see this. He¡¯ll know what to do.¡±


    Soya exhaled slowly, his nerves still raw. ¡°Yeah. Let¡¯s get him. But we need to be careful. If this really is the Whispering Archives¡­ it¡¯s not just any library. It¡¯s dangerous.¡±


    ¡°Dangerous is starting to feel like our specialty,¡± Davonte said with a weak grin. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s find Draven. The sooner we figure this out, the better.¡±


    With the sketchbook clutched tightly in his hands, Soya stood and followed Davonte toward the dormitory stairs, the weight of the drawing pressing on his mind. Whatever lay ahead, he knew one thing for certain: the answers they sought¡ªand Eliza¡¯s fate¡ªwere hidden within the dark and winding shelves of the Whispering Archives.


    Davonte knocked on Draven¡¯s dormitory door, leaning against the frame impatiently. ¡°Oi, Draven! Open up, we¡¯ve got something weird to show you.¡±


    The door creaked open, revealing Draven with his ever-present journal tucked under his arm. His sharp gray eyes scanned both of them, lingering on the sketchbook Soya clutched to his chest. ¡°Weird, you say? That seems to be our specialty.¡±


    Soya hesitated before holding out the sketchbook. ¡°I¡­ I think I drew something important. I don¡¯t know how to explain it.¡±


    Draven¡¯s gaze narrowed slightly, and he gestured for them to step inside. His dormitory was meticulously organized, with shelves of books and scrolls neatly arranged by topic. A sooty owl perched silently on the windowsill, its keen eyes watching the group as Draven took the sketchbook and set it on his desk.


    ¡°Alright,¡± he said, flipping it open. His expression shifted subtly as he studied the drawing of the Whispering Archives, his fingers lightly tracing the detailed lines. When his eyes reached the depiction of the strange book, he paused. ¡°This is¡­ curious.¡±


    ¡°You see it, right?¡± Soya asked, his voice tinged with urgency. ¡°That book¡ªit¡¯s like it¡¯s trying to tell us something.¡±


    Draven nodded slowly, his tone measured. ¡°The level of detail is exceptional, even for you. The runes on the book are particularly intriguing. They seem¡­ ancient. Possibly even predating the Archives themselves.¡±


    ¡°Exactly!¡± Davonte chimed in, crossing his arms. ¡°Which means we need to get in there and check it out.¡±


    Draven¡¯s head snapped up, his expression unusually stern. ¡°Absolutely not.¡±


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    Soya blinked, startled by the sudden shift in tone. ¡°What? Why not?¡±


    ¡°Because,¡± Draven said evenly, ¡°the Archives are perilous at the best of times, and these are certainly not the best of times. The castle is under lockdown, which means whatever is happening out there is severe enough to warrant keeping students confined for their own safety.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but¡ª¡± Davonte began, but Draven cut him off.


    ¡°No,¡± Draven said firmly, his gray eyes narrowing. ¡°You¡¯ve already encountered a basilisk, barely escaped with your lives, and now you want to venture into one of the most dangerous areas of the castle during a lockdown? That¡¯s reckless.¡±


    Soya opened his mouth to protest but faltered under Draven¡¯s piercing gaze. ¡°I¡ªI know it¡¯s dangerous, but¡­ Eliza could be there. That book could lead us to her.¡±


    Draven leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he regarded them both. ¡°I understand your concern for Eliza. But consider this: if she is in the Archives, there¡¯s a reason she hasn¡¯t left. Either she¡¯s hiding, trapped, or¡­ worse. And if the Archives were dangerous enough to keep her there, do you truly believe you¡¯re equipped to face whatever she encountered?¡±


    Davonte frowned, his frustration evident. ¡°So what are we supposed to do? Just sit here and hope everything magically works itself out?¡±


    Draven¡¯s voice softened slightly, though his expression remained serious. ¡°No. We prepare. We think. We gather as much information as we can before taking any action. Rushing in without a plan will only put all of us in greater danger.¡±


    Soya glanced down at his sketchbook, the weight of Draven¡¯s words sinking in. He knew Draven was right¡ªcharging into the Archives without a clear strategy would be foolish. But the thought of leaving Eliza to fend for herself, especially with the strange magic of the drawing pushing him forward, made him feel helpless.


    ¡°What if there¡¯s no time to wait?¡± Soya asked quietly, meeting Draven¡¯s gaze. ¡°What if she needs us now?¡±


    Draven studied him for a long moment before exhaling slowly. ¡°If there¡¯s truly no time, we¡¯ll act. But until we know for certain, we need to tread carefully. The Archives are not a place to be entered lightly¡ªespecially during a lockdown with basilisks and other unknown threats roaming the castle.¡±


    Davonte groaned, rubbing his temples. ¡°Alright, fine. But if we find out she¡¯s in danger and you¡¯re still dragging your feet, I¡¯m going in without you.¡±


    Draven didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°Then let us hope it doesn¡¯t come to that.¡± He closed the sketchbook and handed it back to Soya. ¡°In the meantime, keep this safe. It may provide more clues as we piece together what¡¯s happening.¡±


    Soya nodded reluctantly, clutching the sketchbook to his chest once more. Despite the frustration bubbling in his chest, he couldn¡¯t ignore the logic in Draven¡¯s words. ¡°Okay. We¡¯ll wait. For now.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Draven said, standing and retrieving his journal from the desk. ¡°And while we wait, let¡¯s focus on gathering any additional information we can. The more prepared we are, the better chance we¡¯ll have of helping Eliza¡ªand ourselves.¡±


    ONE WEEK EARLIER


    Headmaster Boromus Spellchecker adjusted the brim of his pointed hat as he stepped lightly through the dim corridors of the Whispering Archives, his wand casting a soft golden light. The shelves loomed high above him, packed with ancient tomes and scrolls that whispered faintly in a language long forgotten. It was a sound he had grown used to over the years, but it still had a way of prickling at the back of his neck.


    ¡°Students,¡± he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. The recent incident with Soya and Davonte sneaking into the Archives still lingered in his mind. He had caught them with a mix of exasperation and intrigue, their young faces pale with guilt as they fumbled for excuses. After a stern reprimand and a quick escort back to their common room, Spellchecker had resumed his own search.


    ¡°Of all the places to wander,¡± he mused, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in an almost imperceptible smile. ¡°At least they have curiosity.¡±


    As he ventured deeper into the labyrinthine halls, the whispering grew louder, as if the books themselves were aware of his presence. Spellchecker paused before a section marked with the rune of Thylacea, the founders¡¯ symbol for rare and volatile knowledge. His gaze sharpened as he extended a hand toward the shelves, his fingers brushing against the spines of the books.


    ¡°Ah, here it is,¡± he said softly, pulling a dusty tome from the shelf. Its leather binding was cracked with age, and the faint glow of protective enchantments shimmered as he held it. The cover bore no title, only a single rune that pulsed faintly in the dim light.


    The headmaster carefully opened the book, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the contents. The writing was a mix of jagged runes and flowing script, detailing spells and theories that predated modern magical practices. But it wasn¡¯t the text that drew his attention¡ªit was the illustration on the inside cover.


    There, sketched in meticulous detail, was the same book that Soya would draw many days later. Its depiction was nearly identical, down to the faint glow emanating from the rune on its cover.


    Spellchecker¡¯s grip on the book tightened, his brow furrowing as unease crept into his expression. ¡°So, it¡¯s begun,¡± he murmured, his voice barely audible over the whispers. He closed the book with a deliberate motion, his mind racing.


    The headmaster turned sharply on his heel, the hem of his robes brushing against the stone floor as he moved deeper into the Archives. He needed answers¡ªanswers that this book might provide. Whatever ancient magic was stirring within the school, it was no coincidence that it was tied to the very students who had stumbled upon this place.


    As the whispers seemed to grow louder, echoing in the vast space, Spellchecker cast a glance over his shoulder. The flickering light from his wand illuminated the shadows for a moment, revealing nothing but the empty corridor behind him.


    Yet, he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that the Archives were watching him just as closely as he watched them.


    The air in the Whispering Archives grew heavier as Headmaster Spellchecker carried the ancient book deeper into its maze-like corridors. His wandlight flickered across the walls, casting elongated shadows that seemed to shift and ripple in the corners of his vision. The faint whispers of the tomes grew louder, their cadence almost urgent, as if urging him onward.


    Reaching a secluded alcove, Spellchecker placed the book on a stone pedestal inscribed with protective runes. He examined the tome carefully, his fingers hovering just above its cracked leather cover. The rune on the book pulsed faintly, a rhythmic beat that matched no magic he had encountered in recent memory.


    ¡°This seal,¡± he muttered, leaning closer, ¡°ancient and layered. But it isn¡¯t protective¡ªit¡¯s imprisoning.¡± His voice was laced with both curiosity and concern as he traced the edges of the rune. His knowledge of runic magic was vast, but this was something different. Something darker.


    Raising his wand, he began to chant softly, the incantation resonating through the chamber. The runes on the pedestal glowed in response, their light encircling the book. As the spell intensified, the rune on the cover began to twist and unravel, the strands of its magic dissipating into the air like tendrils of smoke.


    With a final whispered word, the seal shattered, the sound echoing like the toll of a distant bell. The room plunged into silence, the oppressive whispers of the Archives abruptly ceasing.


    The book¡¯s cover creaked open on its own, and from its pages, a soft, golden light spilled out, illuminating the alcove. The light coalesced into a form¡ªa girl, her outline shimmering like morning mist before solidifying into the familiar figure of Eliza. Her dark hair was disheveled, her robes torn, and her face pale with exhaustion. She stumbled forward, collapsing to her knees as the light faded.


    ¡°Eliza,¡± Spellchecker said, stepping forward and kneeling beside her. His voice was calm but edged with urgency. ¡°Are you hurt?¡±


    Eliza looked up at him, her wide eyes filled with fear and relief. ¡°Headmaster... they trapped me,¡± she said, her voice trembling. ¡°Sevrin and Sage¡ªthey did this. They lured me into the Archives and sealed me inside that book. I couldn¡¯t get out. I... I don¡¯t even know how long it¡¯s been.¡±


    Spellchecker¡¯s expression hardened, his usual composed demeanor giving way to a rare flicker of anger. ¡°Sevrin and Sage,¡± he repeated, the names laced with quiet fury. ¡°I should have suspected as much. Their movements have been too calculated, their actions too precise.¡±


    Eliza nodded weakly, her hands trembling as she gripped the edge of the pedestal for support. ¡°They¡¯re planning something, Headmaster. The rune by the lake, the basilisk, the creature in the castle¡ªit¡¯s all connected. They¡¯re using ancient magic, but I couldn¡¯t figure out why before they¡ªbefore they trapped me.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve done enough,¡± Spellchecker said firmly, helping her to her feet. ¡°You¡¯re safe now, but we must tread carefully. If Sevrin and Sage realize you¡¯ve escaped, they¡¯ll accelerate whatever scheme they¡¯re working on. For now, no one can know you¡¯ve been found.¡±


    Eliza¡¯s brow furrowed, confusion and unease crossing her face. ¡°Not even Soya and Davonte? They¡¯ve been looking for me¡ªI know they have.¡±


    Spellchecker hesitated, the weight of the decision clear in his expression. ¡°Not yet,¡± he said at last. ¡°Their safety depends on secrecy. We can¡¯t risk drawing attention to you until we know more. But rest assured, Eliza, I will ensure justice is served.¡±


    Eliza nodded reluctantly, her gaze dropping to the floor. ¡°What do we do now?¡±


    ¡°For now, you¡¯ll stay hidden,¡± Spellchecker said, his tone resolute. ¡°I¡¯ll assign you a safe location within the school, far from prying eyes. And in the meantime, I¡¯ll continue investigating. We¡¯re closer to the truth than they realize.¡±


    As he guided Eliza toward the exit of the Archives, Spellchecker cast a final glance at the pedestal where the book still lay, its pages now blank. The seal had been broken, and with it, the next chapter of the mystery had begun.

 Chapter 23: Ministry Intel

    The gleaming halls of the Australian Ministry of Magic echoed with hurried footsteps and tense murmurs. The air was thick with unease, a palpable weight pressing down on the wizards and witches who bustled about, clutching scrolls and parchments filled with reports of destruction.


    Davonte¡¯s father, Sigord Evander, strode through the grand atrium, his sharp eyes scanning the room. His typically composed expression was marred by a deep frown, the kind that only came with sleepless nights and too many unanswered questions. At his side, Hilda Evander walked briskly, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. She clutched a sealed folder in her hand, its contents far more disturbing than she cared to admit.


    ¡°Another attack overnight,¡± Sigord muttered, voice low. ¡°Perth this time. Basilisk sighting near the Magical Botanical Gardens. Five injured. One still petrified.¡±


    Hilda¡¯s grip on the folder tightened. ¡°That¡¯s the third major attack in as many days. It¡¯s spreading faster than we thought.¡±


    Sigord¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°And still no word from Austramore. Not a public one, at least.¡±


    ¡°They won¡¯t risk it,¡± Hilda replied, adjusting her pace to match his. ¡°Mass panic would spread like wildfire. But this is beyond containment now.¡±


    They approached the Ministry''s High Council Chamber, an imposing set of doors carved with ancient rune symbols pulsing faintly with magic. Aurors stood guard on either side, their wands drawn and expressions hard. Sigord nodded grimly to them, and the doors creaked open, revealing a room alive with frantic energy.


    The chamber was a semi-circular room lined with tiered seats filled with witches and wizards of various departments. Magical maps floated in the center, displaying red-glowing markers scattered across the continent. Each pulsing mark represented a reported basilisk attack.


    ¡°Evander, over here,¡± a familiar voice called.


    Sigord and Hilda moved towards Director Callahan, head of Magical Security. His robes were slightly disheveled, and deep lines creased his weathered face.


    ¡°This is worse than we feared,¡± Callahan said grimly, gesturing to the maps. ¡°Look at this. Sydney, Brisbane, Perth, even as far as Alice Springs. And it¡¯s not just the cities. Remote magical sites are being targeted too.¡±


    Sigord¡¯s eyes narrowed as he studied the map. ¡°It¡¯s coordinated.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the working theory,¡± Callahan confirmed. ¡°And that¡¯s not even the worst of it.¡± He waved his wand, and a section of the map zoomed in on Melbourne¡ªspecifically, the Ministry itself.


    A flickering red marker glowed ominously near the Ministry¡¯s perimeter.


    ¡°We were attacked,¡± Hilda breathed, disbelief coloring her tone.


    Callahan¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°Last night. A basilisk breached the outer wards. Only the emergency enchantments kept it out. We fought it off, but this¡­ this is escalating.¡±


    A wave of murmurs rippled through the room as more officials filed in, carrying reports and magical recordings. The tension thickened as theories bounced between departments¡ªsabotaged wards, dark wizards, rogue magical beasts¡ªbut none had solid answers.


    Sigord glanced at his wife, their shared look speaking volumes. If the Ministry itself wasn¡¯t safe, nowhere was.


    Callahan leaned in closer, lowering his voice. ¡°There¡¯s more. Some of the attack sites had traces of rune magic.¡±


    Sigord stiffened. ¡°Runes?¡±


    ¡°Old magic. Binding, releasing, controlling. We don¡¯t have the expertise to analyze them, not properly. But they¡¯re connected. And Austramore¡¯s silence is¡­ unsettling.¡±


    A heavy silence hung in the air. Hilda¡¯s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ¡°They must know something. They¡¯ve had basilisk sightings too.¡±


    Sigord exhaled sharply. ¡°We need answers.¡±


    Before more could be said, the room quieted as the Head of Magical Affairs, Minister Rowan Kerrigan, entered. His stern gaze swept across the room.


    ¡°We begin now,¡± he announced. ¡°The safety of the Australian magical community depends on swift, decisive action. We cannot afford to falter.¡±


    The council chamber buzzed with tension, the hum of frantic whispers and the rustle of parchment filling the air. Minister Rowan Kerrigan stood at the center, his robes immaculate despite the exhaustion in his eyes. Magical charts hovered above the table, pulsing softly with red markers.


    ¡°We need solutions,¡± Kerrigan¡¯s voice cut through the noise. ¡°Not theories. The wards are failing, attacks are increasing, and public safety is hanging by a thread.¡±


    An elderly wizard from the Department of Magical Beasts cleared his throat. ¡°Minister, we¡¯ve deployed specialized beast handlers to the major cities, but these basilisks are unlike any we¡¯ve encountered. They don¡¯t seem to behave naturally¡ªcoordinated, even.¡±


    Sigord Evander leaned forward. ¡°That¡¯s because they¡¯re not acting alone. We have evidence of rune magic at several attack sites. Someone¡ªor something¡ªis guiding them.¡±


    Hilda Evander¡¯s eyes narrowed, scanning the magical map that still floated above the table. Her voice, steady but laced with concern, broke the growing silence. ¡°We need to send more aid to Austramore.¡±


    Several heads turned.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± came the curt voice of Deputy Minister Barron.


    Hilda didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°Austramore has been silent through all of this. It¡¯s one of the most secure magical institutions on the continent, and yet, not a word. If these attacks are coordinated, the school could be a central target¡ªor worse, already compromised.¡±


    Barron¡¯s expression hardened. ¡°Austramore is fully capable of protecting its students. Diverting more resources leaves our cities vulnerable.¡±


    Hilda¡¯s voice didn¡¯t waver. ¡°And if Austramore falls, every child in our community is at risk. Including my son.¡±


    The room went still. For a fleeting moment, Hilda¡¯s professional mask slipped, her eyes darkening with barely concealed fear. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the composed, calculating official they all knew.


    Kerrigan¡¯s sharp gaze flicked between the two. ¡°The safety of our children is paramount. I¡¯ll authorize a small task force¡ªdiscreetly. We can¡¯t let this panic spread.¡±


    Hilda gave a curt nod, masking the slight relief in her chest. The meeting pressed on with more reports, more plans, but her mind drifted.


    LATER THAT NIGHT


    The Ministry halls were quieter now, the hum of activity dimmed to a distant murmur. Sigord and Hilda Evander walked side by side through the stone corridors, their footsteps echoing off the walls.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    Neither spoke at first, the silence between them more comfortable than words.


    Finally, Sigord broke it. ¡°You were right to push for aid. But it won¡¯t ease your mind, will it?¡±


    Hilda¡¯s stride didn¡¯t falter, but her shoulders tightened. ¡°No. Not until I hear from him.¡±


    Sigord¡¯s expression softened. ¡°Davonte¡¯s resilient. You know that.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s still a child,¡± Hilda replied, her voice quieter now. ¡°Resilient or not, he¡¯s in the middle of this mess. And we¡¯re stuck here, sitting in meetings while basilisks tear through our world.¡±


    Sigord was quiet for a moment. ¡°If we leave, we¡¯re no help to him. This is where we fight.¡±


    Hilda exhaled slowly, stopping near a large window that overlooked the darkened city. Below, faint lights flickered in the streets, magical wards pulsing faintly in the distance.


    ¡°I know,¡± she murmured. ¡°But he¡¯s still my son.¡±


    Sigord placed a steady hand on her shoulder. ¡°And he knows that. He¡¯s smart. Reckless, like me, but smart.¡±


    A soft, humorless chuckle escaped Hilda. ¡°That¡¯s the part that worries me.¡±


    They stood in silence, the weight of the unknown pressing down on them.


    ¡°I should send him a letter,¡± Hilda finally whispered.


    Sigord shook his head gently. ¡°No. If Austramore¡¯s silence is intentional, any message could be dangerous. We can¡¯t risk drawing more attention to him.¡±


    She closed her eyes, steadying herself. ¡°You¡¯re right.¡±


    The silence stretched between them again, heavier this time.


    ¡°But when this is over,¡± Sigord said quietly, ¡°I want to bring him home.¡±


    Hilda didn¡¯t answer, only nodded slowly.


    And together, they turned back toward the endless maze of hallways, carrying the silent hope that their son would make it through whatever darkness Austramore was facing.


    The transition from the cold, towering walls of the Ministry back to Austramore was almost jarring. Where the Ministry had been filled with tension and quiet dread, the Thylacea common room was bursting with noise and movement.


    The sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor leading to the common room. Soya looked up from his sketchbook, blinking in confusion as the door creaked open.


    Prefects from Bunjil House led a long line of students inside, their faces pale and tense. Behind them, Professor Wickham followed closely, her expression severe but composed.


    Davonte, lounging in his usual spot, sat up straighter. "Uh... are we getting new roommates or something?"


    Draven, seated cross-legged on the floor near the fireplace, didn''t look up from his journal. "Unlikely. Their arrival suggests an evacuation or displacement due to a security breach."


    Davonte shot him a flat look. "Yeah, that was my guess too, but thanks for making it sound worse."


    Professor Wickham¡¯s commanding voice cut through the chatter. "Thylacea students, listen closely. Bunjil House has been temporarily relocated here due to a security breach in their common room. Until further notice, both houses will share this space."


    A wave of murmurs rippled through the room. Soya exchanged a glance with Davonte, tension tightening in his chest.


    ¡°What kind of breach?¡± Davonte asked aloud, voicing the question on everyone¡¯s mind.


    Professor Wickham¡¯s sharp gaze pinned him for a moment. "That is not for students to concern themselves with. Prefects will organize sleeping arrangements and ensure order is maintained. You are all expected to act responsibly."


    With that, she turned on her heel and left the room, leaving the students to process the news.


    The room became a buzz of hushed conversations as the Bunjil students began spreading out, some looking wary, others relieved to be somewhere safer. Soya spotted a few familiar faces¡ªstudents he vaguely recognized from shared classes¡ªbut many were strangers.


    One girl with long dark braids and sharp eyes caught his attention. She was quietly directing a few younger students toward open spots near the fireplace. Soya recognized her as Mira Tan, a Bunjil prefect known for her no-nonsense attitude.


    Davonte whistled lowly. "Well, this is going to be... cozy."


    "Chaotic is the more accurate term," Draven muttered, closing his journal with a soft snap.


    Soya remained quiet, his eyes scanning the room as the two houses awkwardly tried to settle in. Beds were conjured along the walls, and students shuffled around, trying to claim spots without causing tension.


    A first-year Bunjil boy tripped over his own trunk, nearly falling face-first into one of Thylacea''s chairs. Davonte caught him by the arm with practiced ease.


    "Whoa, easy there, mate. What¡¯s your name?" Davonte asked, steadying him.


    "J-Jasper," the boy stammered, cheeks red.


    "Well, Jasper, welcome to Thylacea. Try not to break anything, yeah?" Davonte smirked, giving him a reassuring pat on the back before the boy scurried off.


    "Smooth," Soya mumbled, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.


    Davonte grinned. "It''s a gift."


    Despite the forced politeness and the quiet attempts at mingling, there was an undeniable tension in the air. Everyone was acutely aware that Bunjil House wasn''t here by choice.


    Soya leaned in closer to Davonte and Draven. "If their common room was breached... do you think it was the basilisk again?"


    Davonte¡¯s smirk faded. "Could be. Or it could be that other monster that nearly tore us apart."


    Draven tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Regardless of the cause, the breach confirms one thing: the school¡¯s wards are deteriorating. Nowhere is safe."


    Davonte groaned, slumping back in his seat. "Great. Just what we needed."


    Mira Tan''s sharp voice carried over the room. "Prefects, start grouping first-years together near the fireplace. Older students, make room."


    The organization was swift, if awkward. Soya watched as more students filed in, filling every available space. The Thylacea common room, normally so spacious, now felt suffocating.


    Davonte sighed, rubbing his face. "Guess we¡¯re all stuck here for the long haul."


    Soya glanced at his sketchbook, the half-finished drawing of the Whispering Archives staring back at him. The room was packed, but the noise dulled in his mind. Something about the drawing tugged at him again, and with the walls of the castle failing, that tug felt heavier than before.


    Draven¡¯s eyes flicked to the sketchbook. "We should be careful what we discuss moving forward. More ears mean more chances of the wrong people listening."


    Davonte nodded, eyes scanning the room. "Yeah. No more chat about the archives or... anything, really."


    Soya closed the book softly, the weight of their secrets pressing down harder in the now-crowded common room.


    The Thylacea common room was packed, voices weaving into a dull hum as students from both houses tried to make sense of the sudden change. Amidst the scattered conversations and the shuffling of trunks and belongings, Soya sat quietly near the window, sketchbook resting on his knees. His pencil moved absentmindedly across the page, but his mind wasn¡¯t focused on drawing.


    The sound of approaching footsteps drew his attention. Two familiar figures weaved through the crowded space, moving toward him with purposeful strides.


    "Well, look who hasn''t been swallowed whole by the castle yet," a dry, familiar voice cut through the noise.


    Soya glanced up, blinking in surprise. "Saunak?"


    Saunak Carswell offered a lopsided grin, pushing his white hair back with a lazy hand. "In the flesh. Thought you might¡¯ve gone and vanished like half the school."


    Beside him, Salem Blackthorn gave a small, amused smile. "That would¡¯ve been inconvenient. You¡¯re one of the few people here I can tolerate."


    Soya let out a breathy laugh, genuinely relieved to see them. "It¡¯s... been a while. With everything going on, I wasn¡¯t sure if you two were alright."


    Saunak shrugged, dropping into the seat opposite Soya without invitation. "Define ¡®alright.¡¯ Our common room¡¯s been wrecked, we¡¯re stuffed in here like cattle, and the professors are acting like we¡¯re one sneeze away from disaster. So, yeah, we¡¯re great."


    Salem leaned against the back of a nearby chair, his green eyes scanning the crowded room. "Saunak¡¯s complaining aside, we¡¯re fine. Bunjil¡¯s been on lockdown, but nothing tried to eat us. Yet."


    Davonte, overhearing from his spot on the couch, smirked. "Lucky you. We¡¯ve been getting front-row seats to all the fun."


    Saunak arched a brow. "Fun? Is that what we¡¯re calling near-death experiences these days?"


    Davonte gave a nonchalant shrug. "It¡¯s better than calling it what it is¡ªpure chaos."


    Draven, seated nearby, barely glanced up from his journal. "Chaos is often a prelude to opportunity, provided one knows how to act on it."


    Saunak stared at Draven for a moment before leaning toward Soya. "Who¡¯s the encyclopedia?"


    Soya rubbed the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed. "That¡¯s Draven. He¡¯s... new. But he¡¯s been helping us figure some things out."


    Draven gave a small, acknowledging nod without looking up.


    Salem folded his arms. "You lot look like you¡¯ve been scheming. Should I be worried?"


    Soya hesitated, glancing at Davonte. They hadn¡¯t exactly been subtle, and Salem was sharper than most.


    Davonte leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Let¡¯s just say we¡¯ve been trying to piece together why this place is falling apart."


    Saunak¡¯s smirk faded slightly. "I figured as much. People are scared, but the professors aren¡¯t telling us anything. All we get are vague warnings and lockdowns. Some of us want answers."


    Salem tilted his head. "And from the look of it, you already have some."


    Soya fidgeted with the corner of his sketchbook, feeling the weight of their words. "We... might know a little more than most. But it¡¯s dangerous."


    Saunak¡¯s grin returned, sharper this time. "Dangerous is relative. If there¡¯s something we can do to help, maybe it¡¯s time you let us in."


    Davonte eyed them cautiously. "This isn¡¯t some school prank, Saunak. We¡¯re dealing with things that make even the professors nervous."


    Salem¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. "We¡¯re not stupid. We¡¯ve seen how scared the staff are. You¡¯re not the only ones paying attention."


    Draven finally closed his journal, his gray eyes locking onto Saunak and Salem. "If we were to involve you, it would require discretion. No impulsive actions, no bravado. Just commitment."


    Saunak leaned back, folding his arms behind his head. "I can be discreet. Mostly."


    Salem gave a small, knowing smirk. "We wouldn¡¯t offer if we weren¡¯t serious. So, what¡¯s the plan?"


    The group fell into a tense silence, the noise of the crowded room fading into the background. Soya exchanged glances with Davonte and Draven.


    Maybe having more allies wasn¡¯t such a bad idea.


    Not with what was coming.

 Chapter 24: Family Craft

    The sharp clinking of glass echoed in the dimly lit office as Seikan Blackthorn set down a half-full vial onto his cluttered desk. The glow of enchanted runes etched along the stone walls flickered faintly, casting long shadows that danced across the room. Stacks of parchment and old tomes crowded every surface, each one detailing fragmented reports and hastily scribbled notes on the school¡¯s current state.


    Seikan leaned back in his high-backed chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin, his sharp emerald eyes scanning over a fresh report. His expression remained unreadable, but the taut line of his jaw betrayed the simmering frustration beneath.


    A soft knock at the door broke the stillness.


    ¡°Enter,¡± he called, his voice cool and even.


    The door creaked open, revealing a young, nervous-looking prefect standing in the doorway, a folded parchment trembling in their hands.


    ¡°Professor Blackthorn, a message from Professor Wickham,¡± the prefect stammered. ¡°It¡¯s about Salem Blackthorn.¡±


    Seikan¡¯s eyes sharpened, his posture straightening as he extended a hand. The prefect hurried forward, placing the parchment in his grasp before quickly retreating from the room.


    Seikan unfolded the message, scanning its contents swiftly. His grip on the parchment tightened briefly before he composed himself.


    ''Salem is safe.''


    The words were simple, but they carried immense weight. Wickham had confirmed that Salem, along with the rest of Bunjil House, had been relocated to the Thylacea common room after the breach. No injuries. No further incidents.


    Seikan exhaled slowly, his shoulders loosening a fraction.


    But relief was fleeting.


    His eyes drifted back to the chaotic sprawl of reports and maps on his desk. Basilisk sightings. The indestructible rune-covered beast. The breached walls. The scattered, unexplained runes appearing across the grounds. And now, the lockdown had driven students into cramped, vulnerable quarters.


    It was all spiraling.


    Seikan¡¯s fingers traced absentmindedly over a set of ancient rune diagrams sprawled beside him. The marks were faintly similar to those that had been spotted on the beast¡¯s horns¡ªa dark magic with an all too familiar runic structure¡ªone he was not quite ready to accept.


    A flick of his wand summoned another parchment from the pile. This one detailed old ward structures and their vulnerabilities, but it offered no further consolation.


    A sharp knock pulled him from his thoughts.


    ¡°Blackthorn,¡± a familiar, authoritative voice called.


    Seikan¡¯s gaze snapped to the door. ¡°Enter.¡±


    The heavy oak door swung open, and Headmaster Boromus Spellchecker strode in, his robes trailing behind him. The air seemed to shift with his presence.


    ¡°I assume you¡¯ve read Wickham¡¯s report?¡± Spellchecker¡¯s tone was flat, though his eyes glimmered with something unreadable.


    Seikan inclined his head. ¡°Salem is unharmed. For now.¡±


    Spellchecker nodded. ¡°Good. But we have larger concerns.¡±


    Seikan gestured to the disorganized chaos on his desk. ¡°I¡¯d say that¡¯s an understatement. The school is fracturing at every seam, and our wards are failing faster than we can repair them.¡±


    Spellchecker approached the desk, his sharp gaze sweeping over the parchments. His hand hovered above a map of the school grounds, where marked runes dotted vulnerable entry points.


    ¡°These attacks,¡± Seikan continued, ¡°are too precise. Whoever is behind this understands our defenses intimately. The rune magic we¡¯ve encountered isn¡¯t just old¡ªit¡¯s been adapted, repurposed. It¡¯s designed to bypass or erode our strongest wards.¡±


    Spellchecker¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°I¡¯ve suspected as much. But what concerns me more is the beast.¡±


    ¡°The creature with the rune-etched horns,¡± Seikan muttered, eyes narrowing. ¡°Nearly impervious to magic. That isn¡¯t a natural beast. It was made¡ªor worse, summoned.¡±


    Spellchecker¡¯s gaze grew heavier. ¡°We need answers, and quickly. I want every rune on these grounds cataloged. Every ward tested and reinforced.¡±Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    Seikan let out a sharp breath. ¡°And if we can¡¯t reinforce them?¡±


    ¡°Then we find out who¡¯s behind this before they breach the final defenses,¡± Spellchecker replied coldly.


    Seikan hesitated for a moment before asking, ¡°What about the Ministry?¡±


    ¡°They know parts of it,¡± Spellchecker admitted, folding his arms. ¡°But not enough. If they knew the full extent of this, they¡¯d attempt to take control of the situation¡ªand the school. That would only worsen things.¡±


    Seikan leaned back slowly. ¡°I¡¯ll continue my research. Whoever is behind this¡ªwhatever their purpose¡ªI¡¯ll find them.¡±


    Spellchecker gave a curt nod before turning for the door. He paused briefly, glancing over his shoulder. ¡°Whatever personal distractions you may have, Professor, set them aside. We cannot afford divided attention.¡±


    Personal distractions.


    Seikan¡¯s eyes darkened as they returned to the rune sketches on his desk. His fingers hovered over the jagged symbols, tracing them in the air.


    If HE was involved, Seikan would deal with it. But not yet.


    Not without proof.


    For now, he would watch. And wait.


    But his patience was thin.


    The heavy oak door shut behind him with a muted thud, sealing Seikan Blackthorn within his thoughts and leaving Headmaster Boromus Spellchecker alone in the dim corridor.


    For a moment, the aged wizard stood still, his gnarled hand resting lightly on the cold stone wall. The torches lining the hall flickered gently, casting long shadows that danced across his worn, midnight-blue robes. Despite the weight of the situation pressing upon him, his expression was calm¡ªserene, even.


    But behind that serenity lay a mind moving like clockwork.


    He knew Seikan was holding back.


    Not out of malice, but out of calculation.


    Boromus Spellchecker had led Austramore for longer than most of the staff had been alive. He had watched professors come and go, had taught generations of witches and wizards, and had seen countless students grow into adults. And if experience had taught him anything, it was that Seikan Blackthorn was not a man to reveal his full hand unless absolutely necessary.


    The headmaster resumed his steady pace down the corridor, his soft footsteps echoing in the stillness.


    Seikan suspects his son, Sage.


    Boromus didn¡¯t need to be a Legilimens to know that much. The signs were subtle¡ªan extra pause in his words, the way his eyes had lingered on the reports of the runes, how carefully he chose his words when discussing the creature.


    And yet, Boromus didn¡¯t press him. Not yet.


    There were greater concerns at hand.


    His thoughts drifted to Eliza, now safe but fragile, recovering after being trapped within that cursed book. Her recounting of the events was scattered, fragmented by the trauma of her ordeal, but two names had cut through the confusion with chilling clarity.


    Sage Blackthorn and Sevrin Virelle.


    Boromus sighed quietly, his breath visible in the cool corridor.


    He had always been wary of Seikan¡¯s sons, not because of who they were but because of the legacy they carried. Runes were ancient, powerful, and volatile. Few understood their true depths, and fewer still could wield them safely. Seikan had mastered them in ways few could comprehend, but Sage had always seemed... impatient.


    Ruthless curiosity could be as dangerous as ignorance.


    The headmaster¡¯s hand drifted to the inside pocket of his robes, brushing against the corner of a slim, enchanted notebook. The same notebook where he¡¯d recorded Eliza¡¯s words, every fragmented piece of her story. And now, those words echoed in his mind.


    "They... they trapped me.. Sevrin and Sage. They used the runes, twisted them. It wasn¡¯t meant to be broken."


    Boromus'' pace slowed as he approached a grand archway leading to one of Austramore¡¯s oldest hallways. The air here felt heavier, laced with the ancient magic woven into the very stones. The portraits of former headmasters lined the walls, their painted eyes following his every step. Some nodded in silent acknowledgment, others watched with subtle unease.


    ¡°Worried, are you?¡± Boromus murmured, casting a glance at the watchful portraits.


    The image of a stern woman in forest-green robes sniffed disdainfully but said nothing.


    Boromus allowed himself a faint smile before it quickly faded.


    The school was holding its breath.


    He knew the wards were weakening, fractures spreading through the once-impenetrable defenses. The runes Sage had twisted were not simple markings but carefully designed fractures in Austramore¡¯s foundation, a slow poisoning of its protections.


    And the basilisks¡ªcreatures of chaos¡ªwere not acting alone. Something far more deliberate was at work.


    Boromus reached a small, inconspicuous door at the far end of the hall. With a flick of his wand, the ancient locks unfastened with a soft click. The door creaked open, revealing a hidden staircase spiraling downward.


    He descended slowly, the faint hum of protective enchantments brushing against his skin. This path led to the oldest part of Austramore, far beneath the main halls¡ªa place even most professors rarely tread.


    At the base of the stairs was a simple wooden door, carved with deep runic symbols pulsing faintly with blue light. He extended his hand, and the runes receded, the door opening silently.


    Inside, the air was still, the silence profound.


    The Whispering Archives.


    Rows of ancient books, scrolls, and forgotten artifacts stretched endlessly into the dimness, their presence heavy with secrets. It was here that Eliza had been imprisoned, locked within that cursed tome.


    Boromus moved toward a sealed pedestal at the center of the room. Resting upon it was the book¡ªthe very one that had ensnared Eliza. Its cover, once sealed, now lay cracked open, the enchantments broken.


    Yet it still radiated dark magic.


    Boromus stared at it for a long moment, his wrinkled hand hovering just above its surface.


    "They used the runes, twisted them."


    Sage''s hand was in this, no doubt. But the why eluded him.


    Why attack Austramore from within? What did Sage and Sevrin stand to gain by unbinding forces that even Seikan himself might hesitate to touch?


    Boromus¡¯s fingers curled into a fist.


    He would need to tread carefully. Accusing Sage outright would fracture the fragile stability among the staff. And Seikan, despite his cold demeanor, would not take kindly to such a charge against his blood.


    No. Boromus would need more than suspicion.


    ¡°Answers...¡± he whispered to the empty room.


    But answers rarely came freely.


    He turned, retreating back into the labyrinth of ancient knowledge. There were things in these archives that even Sage and Sevrin could not comprehend. Old magic, deeper than runes, older than words.


    And Boromus would find it.


    Because if Sage Blackthorn thought he could break Austramore from within, he was gravely mistaken.


    The Thylacea common room hummed with the low murmur of students trying to find some normalcy amid the lockdown. The fireplace crackled quietly, casting warm light over the stone walls, but the shadows in the corners felt heavier than usual.


    Up in the boys'' dormitory, Soya lay on his bed, legs stretched out and arms lazily tossing a small, enchanted ball in the air. His kitten, a tiny calico tabby fluffball named Inkwell, pounced after the ball each time it arced over Soya¡¯s head, batting at it with tiny paws and letting out soft, frustrated mews when it bounced away.


    Soya chuckled, watching the kitten wiggle its little backside before lunging forward. "You¡¯re getting faster, Inkwell," he murmured, eyes soft with amusement.


    The playful moment was a rare relief, a quiet bubble away from the chaos beyond the dormitory walls.


    But that peace was short-lived.


    The door creaked open, and Salem Blackthorn leaned casually against the frame. His sharp green eyes swept over the room, landing on Soya and his kitten with mild amusement. "Didn¡¯t think you were the type for pets."


    Soya looked up, startled but smiling faintly. "Oh¡ªhey, Salem. Yeah, well he is my familiar after all." He sat up, scratching behind Inkwell¡¯s ears.


    Salem stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His expression was casual, but there was something behind his eyes¡ªan edge Soya hadn¡¯t seen before.


    "You holding up alright?" Salem asked, his tone light but layered. "After... everything."


    Soya hesitated. It was a simple question, but it carried weight. "I think so. It¡¯s just a lot. Hard to tell what¡¯s normal anymore."


    "Yeah," Salem muttered, glancing around the room. His eyes wandered over the cluttered nightstand.


    And froze.


    A folded, worn piece of parchment lay there¡ªEliza''s rune sketch. The same rune they had found near the lake.


    Salem¡¯s gaze sharpened, his casual stance stiffening. Slowly, he stepped closer, eyes fixed on the parchment. "Where did you get this?" His voice was quieter now, almost too calm.


    Soya blinked, confused. "Oh, that? Eliza gave it to me before she¡­ well, before she disappeared. Why?"


    Salem didn¡¯t answer immediately. He crouched slightly, studying the rune with narrowed eyes. His breath slowed, and his fingers twitched at his sides.


    It was unmistakable.


    That rune wasn¡¯t just any rune¡ªit was his father''s work.


    No. Not his father¡¯s.


    His mind reeled. There were only three people alive who could craft runes like this. His father. Himself.


    And Sage.


    Salem¡¯s stomach knotted. His throat tightened, but he kept his face neutral, though a bead of sweat slid down his temple. He stared at the intricate lines, tracing the strokes in his mind.


    "I recognize this design," Salem finally said, his voice carefully measured.


    Soya sat up straighter. "You do?"


    Salem nodded slowly, but his mind was racing.


    Why would Sage be involved in this?


    "It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s a style of runecraft my father developed," he admitted cautiously. "Very old magic. Not many know how to use it." He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "Only a few of us ever learned it. My father, myself..."


    He hesitated, his jaw tightening.


    "...and my brother, Sage."


    The room seemed to grow colder.


    Soya¡¯s eyes widened slightly. "You think Sage¡­?"


    Salem¡¯s expression darkened. "I don¡¯t know. But if this rune matches our family¡¯s work, and my father isn¡¯t behind it, there¡¯s only one person left."


    He leaned back, running a hand through his dark hair. His mind spun, piecing together fragments of what he knew about Sage¡ªhis restlessness, his craving for power. His arrogance.


    It made a sick sort of sense.


    But it also didn¡¯t.


    Why would Sage do this?


    Was it Sevrin''s influence or something more than that?


    "I need to think," Salem muttered, half to himself. Then, realizing how sudden he sounded, he glanced back at Soya. "Keep that sketch safe. Don¡¯t show it to anyone else, alright?"


    Soya nodded slowly, feeling the weight of Salem¡¯s tone. "Okay. But... what does it mean?"


    Salem shook his head. "It means things are worse than I thought."


    Without another word, he turned and left the room, the door clicking shut behind him.


    Soya stared at the rune on his nightstand, suddenly feeling like the walls of the castle had closed in a little tighter.


    And downstairs, Salem''s footsteps echoed faintly in the stone halls as his mind churned.


    Sage... what have you done?

 Chapter 25: Fractured Loyalty

    The hidden chamber beneath Austramore was cloaked in shadow, the only light coming from a single rune-inscribed lantern hanging from the arched ceiling. Its flickering glow cast jagged shadows across the stone walls, warping the intricate runes carved deep into the rock.


    Sevrin Virelle paced like a caged predator, his sharp green eyes burning with frustration. His long black hair clung to his damp forehead, sweat beading at his temples. His fists clenched and unclenched as he muttered curses under his breath.


    Sage Blackthorn leaned against the cold stone wall, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His dark eyes tracked Sevrin¡¯s movements, his face an unreadable mask, though the tightness in his jaw betrayed the storm churning beneath.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me they were going to attack the school,¡± Sage said at last, his voice low and edged with accusation.


    Sevrin snapped his head up, his scowl deepening. ¡°It wasn¡¯t supposed to happen this way.¡±


    ¡°Oh, so the basilisks just happened to show up?¡± Sage pushed off the wall, stepping forward. ¡°That indestructible beast tearing through walls¡ªthat wasn¡¯t planned either?¡±


    Sevrin¡¯s mouth twitched, but he said nothing.


    Sage¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Sevrin, what the hell did you get us into?¡±


    Sevrin stopped pacing, his expression dark. ¡°It¡¯s not like I had a choice.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s always a choice.¡±


    ¡°Not with them,¡± Sevrin snapped. His voice echoed in the stone chamber, sharp and raw. He hesitated, then muttered, ¡°Not with Salsiar.¡±


    The name hung in the air like poison.


    Sage stiffened. ¡°Salsiar?¡± His voice dropped to a whisper. ¡°You¡¯re working with him?¡±


    Sevrin turned away, running a hand through his hair. ¡°I didn¡¯t know at first. It was supposed to be about power¡ªabout reclaiming what¡¯s ours. But... he¡¯s the one pulling the strings.¡±


    ¡°And you just went along with it?¡± Sage¡¯s tone sharpened, disbelief lacing his words. ¡°Do you even understand what Salsiar is?¡±


    ¡°I understand more than you think.¡± Sevrin¡¯s voice was low, defensive. ¡°He¡¯s powerful. More powerful than anyone else we could¡¯ve allied with.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a demon, Sevrin!¡± Sage hissed. ¡°A demon wearing human skin! This was never about pureblood supremacy. It¡¯s about control. About destruction.¡±


    Sevrin turned, face shadowed. ¡°You think I don¡¯t know that now? You think I¡¯m not aware of what he¡¯s capable of?¡±


    ¡°Then why stay?¡± Sage demanded, stepping closer. ¡°Why keep following him?¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s too late to turn back!¡± Sevrin roared. ¡°You think I can just walk away? He knows everything. About me. About you. About our families.¡±


    The words hit Sage like a punch to the chest. His breath caught.


    Sevrin¡¯s shoulders slumped, his voice dropping. ¡°He¡¯ll kill us if we try.¡±


    Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.


    Sage¡¯s mind raced. He hated his brother, feared his father, but this¡ªthis was beyond them. Sevrin had dragged them into something far worse than he realized.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t sign up for this,¡± Sage muttered, more to himself than to Sevrin. ¡°I thought... I thought we were just going to scare people. Show off. Make them respect us.¡±


    Sevrin let out a bitter laugh. ¡°Respect? This was never about respect. It was about power.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Sage said coldly. ¡°It was about control. And now you¡¯re not in control anymore.¡±


    Sevrin glared at him, but the fire in his eyes was dimmer now. ¡°So what, you want out? Go ahead. Run. But don¡¯t think for a second you¡¯re safe.¡±


    Sage stared at him for a long moment. Then, without another word, he turned and walked toward the chamber¡¯s exit.


    ¡°Where are you going?¡± Sevrin called after him, his voice quieter, uncertain.


    Sage paused at the doorway, his silhouette framed by the lantern¡¯s dying light.


    ¡°To think.¡±


    And then he was gone, leaving Sevrin alone in the dark, the shadows creeping ever closer.


    The cold air of the underground corridor bit into Sage Blackthorn¡¯s skin as he ascended the winding stone steps, each footfall echoing like a hammer against his racing thoughts. The narrow path twisted endlessly upward, dark and suffocating, but it wasn¡¯t the shadows that unsettled him.


    It was what he¡¯d done.


    His hands flexed unconsciously at his sides, fingertips tingling with the phantom sensation of his wand carving runes into flesh. The beast¡¯s horn¡ªits surface rough, resistant beneath his spellwork¡ªflashed in his mind. The symbols he etched weren¡¯t random. They had meaning. Purpose.


    But he hadn¡¯t known what that purpose was.


    Not entirely.


    Sage exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.


    You knew enough, a bitter voice in his mind sneered. Enough to stop. But you didn¡¯t.


    He gritted his teeth, his pace quickening as the narrow stairway opened into a broader hall. Dust motes hung in the thin shafts of moonlight streaming through cracked, barred windows.


    ¡°They said it was for control¡­¡± Sage muttered to himself, his voice barely a whisper in the stale air. ¡°Control, not destruction.¡±


    His chest tightened.


    But that thing didn¡¯t care about control, did it?


    He hadn¡¯t asked enough questions.


    Didn¡¯t care to.


    Back then, Sevrin¡¯s promises of power, of reclaiming their place among pureblood elites, had been enough. Sage had always lived in his father¡¯s shadow, a man obsessed with tradition and control. Following Sevrin had felt like breaking free. Like forging his own path.


    But this wasn¡¯t freedom.


    It was a leash.


    Sage¡¯s footsteps slowed as he reached a fork in the hall. One path led back toward the concealed exit Sevrin had shown him, the other toward the deeper tunnels beneath Austramore¡ªthe places where old magic still clung to the stones like cobwebs.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    He lingered.


    The silence was suffocating, and yet he welcomed it.


    ¡°No one¡¯s coming for us,¡± he muttered, almost laughing. ¡°Not yet.¡±


    If the professors even noticed they were gone, they¡¯d assume the worst. Dead. Missing. Lost in the chaos. With the lockdown in place, no one could search for them even if they wanted to.


    Would they even bother?


    The thought struck him harder than he expected.


    Sage wasn¡¯t exactly popular. His family¡¯s reputation preceded him, and he had never made an effort to change that. It was easier to lean into the cold, sarcastic persona than to risk being vulnerable.


    But Sevrin¡ªSevrin had always been the charismatic one. The leader.


    And now, even Sevrin wasn¡¯t in control.


    Sage¡¯s eyes drifted to his hands again, and for a moment, he imagined the runes still burned into his skin.


    Ancient markings. Ones only a handful of people alive knew how to create.


    Seikan. Salem. Me.


    And now Sevrin.


    He leaned heavily against the stone wall, dragging a hand down his face.


    ¡°Salem¡­¡± he muttered.


    His brother wouldn¡¯t understand. No, Salem would hate him for this. For the runes. For the creature that tore through their school.


    Would he hate me enough to stop me?


    A faint, bitter smile tugged at the corner of Sage¡¯s mouth.


    Probably.


    Sage let the thought sit for a moment. The logical move was to run. Disappear. Let Sevrin drown in his own mess.


    But logic didn¡¯t feel right anymore.


    He hadn¡¯t signed up to burn down the world.


    Sage pushed off the wall, turning away from the exit. His footsteps echoed as he moved deeper into the tunnels.


    If Salsiar wanted chaos, Sage needed to understand why.


    And more importantly, he needed to decide where he stood when the storm finally broke.


    The low murmur of voices in the Thylacea common room faded behind Salem Blackthorn as he moved through the castle¡¯s dimly lit halls. His boots struck the cold stone floors with quiet, deliberate steps, each one measured and controlled. His sharp green eyes flicked toward the prefect beside him, their footsteps echoing in the otherwise silent corridor.


    The prefect¡ªa stiff, narrow-faced boy with the air of someone who took their title far too seriously¡ªkept pace with him, casting Salem the occasional wary glance.


    "You¡¯ve been quiet," the prefect finally remarked, attempting to sound casual but failing. "Not going to tell me why you need to see Professor Blackthorn?"


    Salem¡¯s eyes stayed forward. "No."


    The prefect huffed but didn¡¯t push further. Salem wasn¡¯t in the mood for games. His mind was locked on the rune he¡¯d seen in Soya¡¯s room¡ªthe unmistakable curve and edge of runework he had grown up watching his father inscribe with deadly precision.


    Only three people could create runes like that.


    And Sage was one of them.


    Salem¡¯s jaw tightened.


    He didn¡¯t need to explain himself to some prefect. Not now. Not with the cold weight of suspicion pressing into his chest.


    They turned sharply down a narrower hall, the glow of enchanted lanterns casting long shadows along the stone walls. Salem¡¯s sharp eyes caught the faint shimmer of protective wards humming softly over the archways ahead.


    His father¡¯s domain.


    The prefect slowed, glancing nervously at the runes that glowed faintly in the stone. "I¡¯m not allowed past this point," he muttered, stopping in his tracks. "You can go in, but don¡¯t make me regret this."


    Salem shot him a dry glance. "I¡¯d worry more about regretting keeping me waiting."


    Without waiting for a response, Salem stepped forward, passing beneath the archway. The wards hummed against his skin, testing him, before reluctantly allowing him through.


    The heavy wooden door to Seikan Blackthorn¡¯s office loomed ahead.


    Salem raised his hand and knocked, firm and deliberate.


    A pause.


    Then, Seikan¡¯s cold, clipped voice cut through the door. "Enter."


    Salem pushed the door open and stepped inside.


    The office was as imposing as ever¡ªwalls lined with ancient tomes, scrolls stacked in careless piles, and the faint scent of burning parchment lingering in the air. Faint runes glimmered on the walls, softly pulsing in rhythm with the room¡¯s protective enchantments.


    Behind the cluttered desk, Seikan Blackthorn sat, eyes sharp and cold, fingers steepled beneath his chin. He didn¡¯t rise. Didn¡¯t speak.


    He simply stared.


    Salem swallowed the lump in his throat.


    "Father," he greeted evenly.


    Seikan¡¯s expression didn¡¯t shift. "Salem."


    The silence stretched.


    Salem took a steady breath, reaching into his cloak and producing the folded parchment. He placed it carefully on the desk between them.


    Seikan¡¯s eyes flicked down to the rune.


    For a moment, the air in the room seemed to still.


    Then, slowly, Seikan leaned forward, studying the lines.


    His fingers hovered over the parchment, not quite touching it.


    Recognition glimmered¡ªflickered¡ªthen was gone.


    Salem watched him carefully. "You recognize it."


    Seikan¡¯s eyes lifted, sharp and cutting. "Where did you find this?"


    "A friend had it. Said Eliza gave it to him before she disappeared."


    Seikan¡¯s gaze lingered on the rune for a long moment before he leaned back in his chair.


    "And you thought it important enough to bring to me."


    "It¡¯s our work," Salem said, voice tighter than he intended. "But it¡¯s not yours. And it¡¯s not mine."


    A slow breath escaped Seikan¡¯s nose, but his face remained unreadable.


    "No," he said at last. "It isn¡¯t."


    The words hung in the air.


    Neither of them spoke the name.


    But it was there. Heavy. Unspoken.


    It¡¯s Sage.


    Seikan¡¯s gaze didn¡¯t waver. "Leave this with me."


    Salem¡¯s fists clenched at his sides. "That¡¯s it?"


    "You¡¯ve done your part."


    "That¡¯s it?" Salem¡¯s voice sharpened, anger bubbling beneath the surface. "You¡¯re not going to¡ª?"


    "Enough."


    The word cracked through the air like a whip.


    Salem froze.


    Seikan¡¯s eyes narrowed, voice low and cold. "You don¡¯t speak on things you don¡¯t understand."


    Salem¡¯s breath caught in his throat.


    The room felt colder.


    But Seikan leaned forward slightly, his gaze burning. "This is not your burden to carry. Leave it to me."


    For a moment, Salem thought to argue. Thought to demand answers.


    But the weight in his father¡¯s voice crushed the thought.


    Salem¡¯s jaw tightened.


    "...Fine."


    He turned on his heel and strode toward the door.


    But just as his hand reached for the handle, Seikan¡¯s voice stopped him.


    "Be cautious, Salem."


    The warning was soft, but it carried the weight of steel.


    Salem hesitated for only a second before slipping out the door, letting it close behind him.


    The cold of the hall bit at him again.


    But it wasn¡¯t the cold that sent a shiver down his spine.


    It was the thought that, for once, his father sounded afraid.


    The cold air of Austramore¡¯s stone corridors clung to Salem Blackthorn as he made his way back toward the Thylacea common room. His mind was a storm of thoughts, each one crashing into the next, but none offering clarity.


    His father¡¯s reaction had been sharp¡ªtoo sharp. Seikan rarely betrayed emotion, but something about that rune had unsettled him. Salem knew better than to think it was just the symbol itself. It was the implication.


    It¡¯s Sage.


    The thought was a splinter under his skin.


    Salem¡¯s pace quickened.


    When he finally reached the entrance to the Thylacea common room, the stone archway glimmered faintly with layered enchantments. The prefect on duty barely glanced up as Salem muttered the passphrase and slipped inside.


    The room was a low hum of voices, flickering firelight casting long shadows on the walls. The mingling of Thylacea and Bunjil students had turned the space into a chaotic mess of displaced students attempting to find comfort. Blankets were draped over chairs, books stacked in precarious towers, and half-finished chess games sat abandoned.


    But Salem¡¯s eyes immediately found who he was looking for.


    Soya sat tucked into a corner near the fireplace, his sketchbook balanced on his knees. Davonte lounged nearby, absently flipping through a worn deck of enchanted playing cards. Draven sat cross-legged on the floor, reading some thick tome as if the chaos around him didn¡¯t exist.


    Salem didn¡¯t waste time.


    ¡°Soya.¡±


    The tone in his voice cut through the background noise. Soya looked up, blinking in surprise at Salem¡¯s tense posture.


    ¡°Uh, hey¡ª¡±


    ¡°Where exactly did Eliza find that rune you showed me?¡± Salem asked, voice low but firm.


    Soya sat up straighter, confused by the sudden urgency. ¡°The rune? It was by the lake. Near the cliffs. She said it was ancient, something that shouldn¡¯t have been there.¡±


    Davonte¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°That¡¯s the one Sevrin and Sage messed with, right? When they removed it?¡±


    Salem¡¯s jaw tightened at the mention of Sage. ¡°Explain. All of it.¡±


    There was a beat of silence.


    Soya exchanged a glance with Davonte, hesitant.


    But Salem¡¯s expression was unwavering, sharp.


    So Soya started to explain.


    From the beginning.


    He spoke about how Eliza had discovered the rune and how she had been obsessively researching it. About sneaking out to the lake with Davonte and Eliza to examine it, only to witness Sevrin and Sage arrive and remove the rune entirely.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think they saw us,¡± Soya said quietly. ¡°But Sage was the one who dismantled it. Eliza thought it was some sort of binding rune, like it was holding something back.¡±


    Salem¡¯s face darkened.


    ¡°That something was the basilisk,¡± Draven added without looking up. ¡°Logically, the removal of the rune coincided with its appearance. Cause and effect.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re sure it was Sage who broke the rune?¡± Salem¡¯s voice was quieter now, dangerously controlled.


    Soya hesitated. ¡°I... yeah. It was Sage. Sevrin just stood there. It was Sage who knew how to take it apart.¡±


    Salem ran a hand through his hair, pacing for a moment before stopping abruptly. His mind spun, but the pieces were starting to connect, though not in any way he liked.


    ¡°Why would they release it?¡± Davonte asked, leaning forward. ¡°Why break the rune at all? What¡¯s the point of letting a basilisk loose?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Salem admitted, the frustration in his voice evident. ¡°But they didn¡¯t do it by accident.¡±


    Draven finally looked up, studying Salem with sharp eyes. ¡°Do you suspect they¡¯re working for someone?¡±


    Salem¡¯s mouth was a thin line. He didn¡¯t answer.


    But the silence was answer enough.


    ¡°They¡¯re connected to this,¡± Salem finally said, his tone leaving no room for argument. ¡°Sage... and Sevrin. They¡¯ve been tangled up in this longer than we realized.¡±


    Soya¡¯s voice was small. ¡°So what do we do?¡±


    Salem turned to him, the firelight casting harsh shadows across his face.


    ¡°We find out what they¡¯re after.¡±


    His voice dropped lower.


    ¡°And we stop them before they tear this school apart.¡±


    The fire crackled in the silence that followed.


    And somewhere deep in the castle, unseen and unheard, the walls seemed to hold their breath.

 Chapter 26: Return to Normality

    The Thylacea common room was unusually subdued, the typical hum of chatter and laughter replaced by a tense quiet. The dim light of the enchanted fireplace cast long, flickering shadows on the sandstone walls, while clusters of students whispered among themselves, their voices too low to catch.


    Soya sat cross-legged on one of the oversized beanbag chairs near the window, his sketchbook balanced on his knees. Inkwell, his tiny calico tabby familiar, curled up contentedly in his lap, occasionally batting at the dangling string of his pencil.


    Davonte was sprawled across the couch nearby, staring at the ceiling as he tossed a small enchanted ball into the air and caught it repeatedly. Draven sat at the table, his leather-bound journal open as his enchanted quill scratched away furiously. Occasionally, he would glance up, his sharp gray eyes scanning the room as if cataloging every detail.


    The door creaked open, and a prefect stepped in, their face ashen but determined. The room quieted further, all eyes turning to them.


    ¡°Listen up, everyone,¡± the prefect announced, their voice steady despite the tension. ¡°We¡¯ve just received word from the professors. Classes will resume tomorrow.¡±


    A wave of murmurs rippled through the room, some relieved, others apprehensive. Soya looked up from his sketchbook, his brow furrowing.


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ good news, right?¡± he asked quietly, glancing at Davonte.


    Davonte snorted, catching the ball one last time before sitting up. ¡°Depends on what they mean by ¡®cleared up.¡¯ Did they get rid of the basilisk? What about the breaches? Doesn¡¯t exactly inspire confidence.¡±


    Draven closed his journal with a soft snap. ¡°It¡¯s likely a calculated move to restore a semblance of normalcy. If the professors believe the immediate threat has been neutralized, resuming classes would serve to stabilize morale.¡±


    ¡°Or it¡¯s just a distraction,¡± Davonte muttered, leaning back. ¡°Keep us busy so we don¡¯t start asking too many questions.¡±


    The prefect cleared their throat, drawing attention back to them. ¡°I know some of you are worried, but the professors assure us that the school¡¯s wards are secure. Stick to the schedule, stay with your classmates, and report anything unusual immediately. That¡¯s all.¡±


    With that, they left, leaving the room buzzing with hushed conversations.


    Soya stroked Inkwell¡¯s soft fur, his thoughts churning. ¡°What do you think they mean by ¡®secure¡¯? Do you think the basilisk is really gone?¡±


    Davonte shrugged, his silver eyes flicking to the window. ¡°Gone or hiding. Either way, it¡¯s not exactly comforting.¡±


    Draven leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. ¡°If they¡¯ve bolstered the wards, it may be enough to deter another breach. But the root cause of the attacks remains unaddressed. Until that¡¯s resolved, we¡¯re vulnerable.¡±


    Soya chewed on his lip, his gaze drifting to his sketchbook. The faint outline of a rune-laden beast stared back at him, a remnant of his most recent bout of ink magic. He hadn¡¯t shared the details with anyone yet, not even Davonte and Draven. Something about it felt¡­ different. Urgent.


    Inkwell mewed softly, drawing his attention back. He smiled faintly, scratching under her chin. ¡°Well, I guess we¡¯ll find out tomorrow.¡±


    Davonte let out a low chuckle. ¡°Yeah, if we survive the first day back.¡±


    ¡°Optimistic as ever,¡± Draven remarked dryly, earning a smirk from Davonte.


    The common room had settled into a quieter rhythm as the evening stretched on. The soft crackle of the fire was accompanied by the occasional scrape of chairs and murmured conversations. Near the hearth, Soya and Davonte had set up a small assembly line on the rug, their uniforms spread out before them in neat piles.


    Inkwell, Soya¡¯s tiny calico kitten, and Davonte¡¯s ferret, aptly named Mischief, darted back and forth between the two boys. The kitten pounced at the ferret¡¯s bushy tail, while Mischief bounded away only to double back and tap Inkwell¡¯s nose with a playful paw.


    ¡°Do you think they actually like each other, or are they just tolerating each other for our sake?¡± Soya asked, watching the playful chaos with a faint smile.


    Davonte chuckled as he folded his robes. ¡°Tolerating? Nah, Mischief loves the little furball. You should¡¯ve seen the sulk when I didn¡¯t bring her out of the dorm the other day.¡±


    Inkwell gave an indignant mew as Mischief tackled her, rolling her gently across the rug. Soya reached down to scoop her up, holding her close to his chest. ¡°You¡¯ve got to stand your ground, Ink. Mischief is too crafty for you.¡±


    The kitten responded with a soft chirrup, swiping half-heartedly at the ferret, who was already nosing through Soya¡¯s socks.


    Davonte shook his head, amusement twinkling in his eyes. ¡°Well, at least someone¡¯s having fun while the rest of us stress over tomorrow.¡±


    Soya set Inkwell down and picked up his tie, attempting to straighten the knot. ¡°Do you think they actually fixed whatever was wrong? Or are they just pretending it¡¯s safe so we don¡¯t panic?¡±


    Davonte leaned back, resting on his elbows. ¡°If they¡¯re saying it¡¯s safe, then they probably did something big. New wards, maybe? Or they locked up whatever monster was loose.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Soya said, frowning as he fiddled with the tie. ¡°But why not tell us what happened? Why keep it a secret?¡±


    Davonte shrugged. ¡°Standard professor move, isn¡¯t it? Keep the kids in the dark so they don¡¯t freak out. Or maybe they¡¯re worried we¡¯ll go poking around.¡±


    ¡°We wouldn¡¯t do that,¡± Soya said with mock innocence.


    Davonte gave him a pointed look. ¡°Uh-huh. Sure. Because sneaking into restricted areas and getting thrown through walls isn¡¯t poking around.¡±


    Soya flushed, tossing a sock at him. ¡°That wasn¡¯t my idea.¡±


    Davonte caught the sock easily, grinning. ¡°No, but you didn¡¯t exactly say no either.¡±


    They both laughed, the sound easing some of the tension that had settled over the castle in the past weeks. Mischief climbed onto Davonte¡¯s shoulder, nibbling playfully at his ear, while Inkwell curled up on Soya¡¯s lap, purring softly.


    ¡°I just don¡¯t get it,¡± Soya said after a moment, his voice quieter now. ¡°Whatever changed¡ªit had to be something big, right? Something that actually made a difference.¡±


    Davonte nodded, his expression turning thoughtful. ¡°Yeah. Maybe they found a way to reinforce the wards. Or maybe they dealt with the basilisk somehow.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    ¡°But there was more than one basilisk,¡± Soya pointed out. ¡°And that thing with the runes on its horns. If they didn¡¯t stop them all¡­¡±


    Davonte sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s a lot. But maybe they¡¯re buying time, y¡¯know? Enough to figure out a permanent fix.¡±


    Soya nodded, his fingers idly stroking Inkwell¡¯s fur. ¡°I just hope they¡¯re right. That it¡¯s actually safe.¡±


    ¡°It has to be,¡± Davonte said firmly, though there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. ¡°Otherwise, they wouldn¡¯t risk sending us back out there.¡±


    The two fell into a contemplative silence, their pets¡¯ antics providing a small, comforting distraction as they finished arranging their uniforms for the morning.


    The morning air was crisp and carried a faint sense of renewal as Soya, Davonte, and Draven made their way through the castle corridors. The hum of voices and the shuffle of feet echoed around them, a stark contrast to the eerie quiet that had blanketed Austramore during the lockdown. The stone walls seemed brighter, as though the magic woven into the castle had been reinvigorated.


    Soya adjusted the strap of his satchel nervously. ¡°Feels weird, doesn¡¯t it? Like the castle¡¯s... different.¡±


    ¡°Different in a good way, or a bad way?¡± Davonte asked, his tone light but laced with genuine curiosity.


    ¡°Just different,¡± Soya replied, his hazel eyes darting to the other students walking alongside them. There was a mix of relief and apprehension in the air, an undercurrent of unease that no amount of casual chatter could fully dispel.


    Draven walked slightly ahead, his hands tucked into the pockets of his robes. ¡°It¡¯s likely residual magic. If the professors reinforced the wards, it would leave an impression on the castle¡¯s atmosphere. A faint hum of energy, detectable even to those without formal training.¡±


    Davonte rolled his eyes. ¡°Thanks for the science lesson, professor. Maybe next time, use smaller words?¡±


    Draven didn¡¯t rise to the bait, his gray eyes focused ahead. ¡°I assume you¡¯d prefer I simplify it to, ¡®The castle feels weird because magic happened.¡¯¡±


    Soya stifled a laugh as Davonte grinned. ¡°Now that I can work with.¡±


    As they descended the final staircase, the familiar aroma of breakfast wafted up to meet them¡ªfreshly baked bread, sizzling bacon, and the sweet scent of pastries. The Great Hall loomed ahead, its massive double doors standing wide open, inviting students inside for the first time in weeks.


    The three paused just outside the threshold, taking in the sight before stepping in.


    The hall was alive with activity, the long tables packed with students from every house. Platters of food floated gently along the tables, refilling plates as needed, while enchanted candles hovered high above, their warm glow mingling with the soft sunlight streaming through the enchanted ceiling. Today, the sky above reflected a pale blue with streaks of gold, an unspoken reassurance that the worst was behind them.


    Soya hesitated, scanning the room. It was almost overwhelming¡ªso many people, so much noise after weeks of isolation in the common room. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Davonte grinning at him.


    ¡°Come on, let¡¯s grab a spot before they run out of bacon,¡± Davonte said, steering him toward the Thylacea table.


    Draven followed at a measured pace, his gaze flitting over the room with practiced calm. ¡°The noise is... excessive,¡± he murmured as they sat down. ¡°Though I suppose it¡¯s to be expected.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s better than silence,¡± Soya said softly, reaching for a piece of toast. ¡°Even if it¡¯s... a lot.¡±


    They ate in relative quiet, listening to the buzz of conversations around them. Snippets of theories and rumors floated through the air¡ªguesses about what had caused the lockdown, speculation about the creatures that had breached the castle, and whispered concerns about whether the danger was truly over.


    Across the table, a second-year Thylacea student leaned toward them, his face pale and his voice low. ¡°Did you hear? Someone said they saw the professors dragging something huge out of the Forbidden Forest last night. Like, bigger than a dragon.¡±


    Davonte raised an eyebrow. ¡°Bigger than a dragon? That sounds like someone¡¯s exaggerating.¡±


    The boy shook his head fervently. ¡°No, seriously! My cousin saw it from the Astronomy Tower. She said it had runes all over it¡ªglowing ones.¡±


    Soya and Davonte exchanged a glance, but neither said anything. Draven, however, gave a slight nod, his expression thoughtful. ¡°If true, that would explain the sudden return to normalcy. Removing the source of the disruption would allow the wards to stabilize.¡±


    The boy¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°You think they really fixed it?¡±


    ¡°Possibly,¡± Draven replied evenly. ¡°Though I¡¯d suggest exercising caution until we know more.¡±


    The student nodded, visibly uneasy, before turning back to his meal.


    Soya pushed his eggs around his plate, his appetite fading. The weight of the past weeks lingered, and the return to routine felt almost surreal. ¡°Do you think it¡¯s really over?¡± he asked quietly.


    Davonte shrugged. ¡°Who knows? But for now, let¡¯s just enjoy not being cooped up in the common room.¡±


    Draven inclined his head. ¡°Agreed. Speculation without information serves no purpose. We¡¯ll observe, analyze, and adapt as needed.¡±


    Soya managed a small smile. ¡°I guess you¡¯re right. It¡¯s just... hard not to think about everything.¡±


    Before they could dwell further, the sound of a spoon tapping against a glass rang out, silencing the room. All heads turned toward the staff table, where Headmaster Spellchecker stood, his hands clasped behind his back.


    ¡°Students,¡± his voice carried effortlessly across the hall, calm yet commanding. ¡°It is my pleasure to welcome you back to normal routines. While recent events have been challenging, I want to assure you that your safety remains our highest priority. Classes will resume as scheduled today, and I trust you will all approach your studies with renewed focus.¡±


    He paused, his sharp gaze sweeping over the students. ¡°Let us move forward with strength, unity, and determination. Together, we shall overcome any challenge.¡±


    The hall erupted into polite applause, though the tension in the air was still palpable.


    As Spellchecker took his seat, Soya leaned closer to Davonte. ¡°I guess that¡¯s our cue to act like everything¡¯s fine.¡±


    Davonte smirked. ¡°Fake it till you make it, right?¡±


    Soya nodded, though a knot of unease remained in his chest. The professors might have declared the school safe, but he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that something was still lurking just beneath the surface.


    The bustling noise of students heading to their first classes of the day filled the corridors as Soya and Davonte walked side by side. The energy in the castle was a stark contrast to the quiet tension of the lockdown days. Though Soya felt slightly overwhelmed, he found comfort in the return to normalcy¡ªor at least the semblance of it.


    Davonte, as always, kept the mood light. ¡°First class back, and I¡¯m already betting Professor Eldwyn assigns one of those ridiculous essays. ¡®Theoretical Applications of Wandless Magic,¡¯ or something equally impossible.¡±


    Soya chuckled softly. ¡°You know you¡¯re just going to charm Draven into helping you.¡±


    ¡°Obviously,¡± Davonte said with a grin. ¡°Why do you think I keep him around? He¡¯s like a walking textbook.¡±


    Before Soya could respond, a familiar voice called out behind them. ¡°Mr. Vareen. Mr. Evander.¡±


    They stopped and turned to see Headmaster Spellchecker striding toward them, his robes billowing softly with each step. His expression was calm, but his eyes held a seriousness that immediately silenced Davonte¡¯s usual banter.


    ¡°Follow me,¡± Spellchecker said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.


    The two exchanged a glance before nodding and falling in step behind the headmaster. He led them through several winding corridors, the hum of activity from the rest of the school fading as they ventured deeper into a quieter, more secluded part of the castle. Eventually, they reached a heavy wooden door etched with glowing runes.


    With a flick of his wand, Spellchecker unsealed the door, the runes dimming as it creaked open. ¡°Inside,¡± he instructed, stepping aside to let them enter.


    Soya and Davonte hesitated for a moment before stepping through. The room was softly lit, its walls lined with protective enchantments that shimmered faintly in the air. At the center stood a small table, and sitting at it, looking pale but very much alive, was Eliza.


    ¡°Eliza!¡± Soya¡¯s voice broke the heavy silence as he rushed forward, relief flooding his features. He stopped just short of embracing her, unsure if she was still recovering.


    Davonte, however, had no such reservations. He crossed the room in three quick strides and pulled Eliza into a tight hug. ¡°You absolute lunatic,¡± he said, his voice thick with emotion. ¡°Do you have any idea how worried we¡¯ve been?¡±


    Eliza let out a soft laugh, though her voice was hoarse. ¡°I could say the same to you two. You¡¯ve been causing all kinds of trouble, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    Soya managed a watery smile as he took a seat across from her. ¡°We thought... we thought you might never come back.¡±


    Eliza¡¯s expression softened. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I never wanted you to worry.¡±


    Spellchecker cleared his throat, drawing their attention. ¡°I understand your relief, but I must remind you both that Eliza¡¯s return must remain a secret. The individuals responsible for her disappearance are still at large, and revealing her presence could provoke them into taking further action.¡±


    Davonte straightened, his expression hardening. ¡°So it was Sevrin and Sage, wasn¡¯t it? They were the ones who¡ª¡±


    ¡°Enough,¡± Spellchecker interrupted firmly. ¡°What we know and what we suspect are two very different things. I will not have unfounded accusations jeopardizing this investigation.¡±


    Davonte¡¯s jaw tightened, but he said nothing further.


    Soya glanced at Eliza, his voice quiet. ¡°Are you... okay? I mean, after everything?¡±


    Eliza hesitated, her fingers brushing against the edge of the table. ¡°It¡¯s... hard to explain. Being trapped in that book¡ªit was like being caught in a dream you can¡¯t wake up from. I could hear things, see glimpses of what was happening, but I couldn¡¯t do anything. It was... terrifying.¡±


    Davonte reached out, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re safe now. That¡¯s what matters.¡±


    ¡°For now,¡± Spellchecker said gravely. ¡°But this is far from over. The runes that bound Eliza are part of a much larger and more dangerous scheme. Until we can uncover the full extent of it, we must remain vigilant.¡±


    Eliza nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll help however I can. There are things I saw¡ªfragments of spells, pieces of information¡ªI just need time to sort through it all.¡±


    Spellchecker¡¯s gaze softened slightly. ¡°And you will have that time. For now, focus on recovering.¡±


    He turned his attention back to Soya and Davonte. ¡°You two must remain discreet. The less attention we draw, the better.¡±


    Both boys nodded, the weight of the headmaster¡¯s words settling heavily over them.


    As they left the room, Soya felt a mixture of relief and unease. Eliza was safe, but the dangers lurking within the castle¡¯s shadows were far from gone. And though the halls seemed brighter and busier now, the dark undercurrents remained.

 Chapter 27: Class Begins Again

    The morning sun filtered through the high arched windows of the potions classroom, casting golden rays onto the rows of wooden tables laden with cauldrons and neatly arranged ingredients. The air was thick with the familiar tang of brewing potions¡ªa mixture of earthy herbs, pungent roots, and faintly acrid fumes that seemed to cling to every surface.


    Soya Vareen adjusted his thick glasses nervously as he took his usual seat near the middle of the room. Beside him, Davonte Evander sat with his usual calm demeanor, his silver eyes scanning the classroom for any signs of trouble. Draven Corvidus was already flipping through his leather-bound journal, making precise notes in his meticulous handwriting.


    Professor Seikan Blackthorn strode into the room, his long black traveler¡¯s cloak trailing behind him. His presence alone was enough to silence the low murmur of students. The air seemed to grow colder as he reached the front of the room, his sharp emerald eyes sweeping over the class with an intensity that made even the most confident students sit up straighter.


    ¡°Today,¡± Seikan began, ¡°we will be working on the Stabilitas Draught¡ªa potion designed to enhance mental focus and clarity. An invaluable tool for any witch or wizard dealing with complex magic or situations requiring intense concentration.¡±


    He gestured with a flick of his wand, and a recipe appeared on the blackboard in flowing green script.


    Stabilitas Draught Recipe


    2 sprigs of valerian root


    1 crushed moonstone


    3 drops of eucalyptus oil


    Powdered kangaroo paw (precisely 7 grams)


    A pinch of saltroot powder


    1 liter of enchanted water


    ¡°The Stabilitas Draught requires precision,¡± Seikan continued, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. ¡°One mistake, and you¡¯ll either end up with a worthless concoction or a volatile brew capable of inducing hallucinations. Follow the instructions exactly.¡±


    He turned toward the cauldrons with a sweep of his cloak. ¡°Begin.¡±


    Soya glanced nervously at the recipe, his hands already trembling as he reached for the valerian root. ¡°Why does he always make it sound like we¡¯re brewing poison?¡± he whispered to Davonte.


    Davonte smirked, keeping his voice low. ¡°He probably thinks it¡¯s motivational.¡±


    Draven, who had already started preparing his ingredients with surgical precision, didn¡¯t look up. ¡°Perhaps it¡¯s simply accurate. Stabilitas Draught is notoriously unforgiving. The powdered kangaroo paw alone has to be measured within half a gram.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± Soya muttered, fumbling with his scales. ¡°No pressure.¡±


    The classroom buzzed with quiet activity as students set to work. The clinking of glass vials and the soft bubbling of cauldrons created a rhythmic symphony that underscored the tension in the room. Seikan moved silently among the rows, his sharp gaze catching every misstep before it could escalate.


    Soya carefully added the crushed moonstone to his cauldron, watching as the potion turned a faint, shimmering silver. Encouraged, he reached for the eucalyptus oil, but his hand wavered as he uncorked the bottle.


    ¡°Steady,¡± Davonte whispered, nudging Soya¡¯s elbow. ¡°Three drops, no more.¡±


    Soya exhaled slowly and let the oil drip into the cauldron. The potion hissed softly, and the shimmering silver deepened into a rich, calming blue. ¡°That¡¯s... a good sign, right?¡± he asked nervously.


    Draven glanced over, his piercing gray eyes assessing the potion. ¡°It hasn¡¯t exploded, so yes.¡±


    Across the room, a sudden pop and a plume of green smoke erupted from a nearby cauldron, drawing startled gasps from the students. Professor Blackthorn appeared at the offending table in an instant, his expression colder than ever.


    ¡°Miss Kettleson,¡± he said, his tone dangerously calm. ¡°Would you care to explain why your potion is smoking?¡±


    The student in question stammered, her face pale. ¡°I¡ªI thought the powdered kangaroo paw¡ª¡±


    ¡°You thought incorrectly,¡± Seikan interrupted, his voice cutting like a blade. ¡°Leave experimentation to those who can follow instructions. Clean up this mess and start again.¡±


    As the chastened student scrambled to obey, Soya¡¯s grip on his stirring rod tightened. ¡°I¡¯m doomed,¡± he muttered under his breath.


    ¡°You¡¯re fine,¡± Davonte said reassuringly. ¡°Just keep going.¡±


    By the time the class neared its end, the air was filled with the heady scent of eucalyptus and the faint shimmer of moonstone residue. Soya¡¯s potion, to his astonishment, remained a clear, vibrant blue¡ªa perfect match to the example Professor Blackthorn had demonstrated at the start of class.


    Seikan stopped beside their table, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied Soya¡¯s cauldron. For a moment, the silence was unbearable.


    ¡°Acceptable,¡± he said finally, his tone devoid of praise but not entirely dismissive. ¡°Bottle it, label it, and place it on my desk.¡±


    Soya exhaled in relief, his hands shaking as he carefully poured the potion into a glass vial. ¡°Acceptable,¡± he murmured. ¡°I¡¯ll take it.¡±


    Davonte chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. ¡°You survived. That¡¯s all that matters.¡±


    Draven remained composed, his own potion already bottled and neatly labeled. ¡°Acceptable is high praise coming from him.¡±


    As the class ended and the students began packing up, Soya felt a small flicker of pride. He might not have been perfect, but he hadn¡¯t failed.


    And in Professor Blackthorn¡¯s class, that was no small feat.


    The echo of boots and shoes on stone filled the corridor as students filed out of the Potions classroom. Soya let out a breath he hadn¡¯t realized he¡¯d been holding, clutching his satchel tightly. Davonte walked beside him, casually tossing a glass marble enchanted to shimmer like a miniature aurora, his relaxed demeanor a stark contrast to the tension lingering in the air.


    ¡°Well,¡± Davonte said, grinning, ¡°that was a barrel of fun. I think Blackthorn almost smiled at you, Soya.¡±


    Soya gave him a flat look. ¡°If by ¡®smile,¡¯ you mean he didn¡¯t actively destroy my soul, then sure.¡±


    Draven, walking a few paces ahead, glanced back. ¡°You did well. Though I¡¯d recommend not equating silence with approval.¡±


    ¡°Gee, thanks for the pep talk,¡± Soya muttered, adjusting his satchel strap.


    The three of them made their way through the winding halls of Austramore. Unlike the colder, more utilitarian design of the dungeons, the upper corridors were alive with magic. Paintings of Australian landscapes adorned the walls, their enchanted inhabitants moving between frames. A kangaroo dozed in one painting, while a kookaburra in another tilted its head to watch the passing students.


    ¡°I heard our next class is outside,¡± Davonte said, his tone brightening. ¡°Practical Herbology with Professor Greenbark. Finally, some fresh air.¡±


    ¡°Fresh air,¡± Draven echoed, though his voice held less enthusiasm. ¡°And potentially dangerous plants.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re just upset you can¡¯t bring your journal into a field of Whiptail Ferns,¡± Davonte teased.


    Draven¡¯s lips twitched, but he didn¡¯t respond.


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    They passed a group of second-years huddled around a large, animated tapestry that depicted a whimsical scene of a wizard surfing on magical waves conjured by his wand. The wizard tipped his wide-brimmed hat at the students as they laughed, the enchanted waves lapping at the edge of the fabric.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Herbology again?¡± Soya asked, craning his neck to see over the crowd.


    ¡°East Gardens,¡± Davonte replied. ¡°Not far, just past the Crescent Courtyard.¡±


    The Crescent Courtyard was as vibrant as ever. A circular plaza framed by arching stone walkways, its centerpiece was a large fountain enchanted to resemble a coral reef, complete with swimming fish made of water. Students lingered by the fountain, tossing coins or whispering wishes that rippled through the enchanted water.


    ¡°Make a wish, Soya,¡± Davonte said, tossing a silver coin into the fountain.


    Soya hesitated before fishing out a small copper coin. Closing his eyes, he made a silent wish and tossed it in. The coin landed with a soft plink, and for a brief moment, the water shimmered gold where it fell.


    ¡°What¡¯d you wish for?¡± Davonte asked, nudging him.


    Soya rolled his eyes. ¡°If I tell you, it won¡¯t come true.¡±


    Davonte grinned but didn¡¯t press further.


    The East Gardens came into view as they rounded a bend, the lush greenery spilling out beyond the stone pathways. Enchanted vines draped over archways, their leaves glowing faintly with bioluminescence. The air was filled with the mingling scents of eucalyptus, wildflowers, and damp earth.


    Professor Greenbark, a tall, wiry woman with a mane of wild silver hair and robes embroidered with floral patterns, stood waiting near a cluster of students. Her hands were stained green, and a sprig of lavender was tucked behind her ear.


    ¡°Ah, there you are!¡± she called, her voice warm and lively. ¡°Right on time. Everyone gather ¡¯round!¡±


    Soya, Davonte, and Draven joined the group, their curiosity piqued as Professor Greenbark gestured to a patch of peculiar plants behind her. The foliage was a mix of bright, iridescent greens and deep purples, with long, sinewy stems that seemed to shift ever so slightly when the wind touched them.


    ¡°These,¡± she said with a dramatic flourish, ¡°are Singing Sundews. Beautiful, aren¡¯t they?¡±


    The students murmured in agreement, though Soya felt more wary than impressed. The plants did look beautiful, their dewdrops shimmering like tiny gemstones. But the faint humming sound they emitted was slightly unsettling.


    ¡°They hum to attract prey,¡± Professor Greenbark explained, clearly delighted by the uneasy looks on her students¡¯ faces. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, they¡¯re harmless to us¡ªunless you¡¯re wearing too much perfume. The scent overloads their senses.¡±


    A few students nervously sniffed their robes, prompting a chuckle from the professor.


    ¡°Today¡¯s task,¡± she continued, ¡°is simple. Each of you will extract a single drop of nectar from a Singing Sundew. The nectar is an important ingredient in certain healing potions, but it must be harvested carefully. Too much pressure, and you¡¯ll damage the plant. Too little, and you won¡¯t get a proper sample.¡±


    She demonstrated, holding up a small glass vial and gently coaxing a drop of nectar from one of the leaves. The plant shivered slightly but otherwise remained still.


    ¡°Pair up!¡± she called. ¡°And remember¡ªgentle hands!¡±


    Soya found himself paired with Davonte, who grinned as he grabbed a vial. ¡°This is going to be fun.¡±


    ¡°Define ¡®fun,¡¯¡± Soya muttered as they approached one of the plants.


    Draven worked alone a few feet away, his movements precise as he carefully coaxed a drop of nectar into his vial. ¡°Steady pressure, Soya. The stems are sensitive.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for the reminder,¡± Soya said dryly.


    The task was delicate, and Soya¡¯s hands shook slightly as he followed the professor¡¯s instructions. The Sundew hummed faintly, its stem quivering under his touch, but he managed to extract a perfect drop of nectar.


    ¡°Got it!¡± he said, holding up the vial triumphantly.


    Davonte gave him a thumbs-up. ¡°See? You¡¯re a natural.¡±


    Professor Greenbark wandered over, inspecting their work. ¡°Excellent! You two have a good touch. Keep it up.¡±


    The class continued with a mix of successes and mishaps. One student accidentally startled their Sundew, causing it to emit a sharp, high-pitched shriek that sent the surrounding plants into a brief frenzy. Professor Greenbark quickly calmed them, her laughter ringing through the garden.


    By the end of the lesson, Soya felt a mix of relief and satisfaction. The Singing Sundews were temperamental, but they were also fascinating in their own way.


    As the group packed up and prepared to head back to the main building, Soya glanced back at the plants, their faint hum fading into the background. For a brief moment, he felt a sense of wonder, the kind that reminded him why he had come to Austramore in the first place.


    The bell echoed faintly through the corridors, signaling the end of Herbology. Students filed out of the East Gardens in small groups, their conversations a mixture of relief and excitement. Soya, Davonte, and Draven lingered near the edge of the garden, carefully placing their vials of nectar into padded compartments in their satchels.


    ¡°I can still hear that humming,¡± Davonte said, shaking his head. ¡°It¡¯s like it¡¯s stuck in my ears.¡±


    ¡°Better the humming than the shrieking,¡± Soya replied, adjusting the strap of his bag. ¡°I thought my eardrums were going to burst when that one plant freaked out.¡±


    Draven glanced at them, his expression as calm as ever. ¡°The Sundews are fascinating specimens. Sensitive, but their adaptive behavior is remarkable.¡±


    Davonte groaned. ¡°Yeah, sure. Fascinating. But let¡¯s talk about something even more remarkable¡ªfood. I¡¯m starving.¡±


    The trio made their way back toward the castle, the lush greenery of the gardens giving way to the cool stone pathways that led to the Great Hall. The air inside was warmer, filled with the faint scent of roasted meats, freshly baked bread, and sweet mango juice.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care what they¡¯re serving,¡± Davonte said, practically bouncing with anticipation. ¡°As long as it¡¯s edible and there¡¯s a lot of it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d eat a cauldron cake off the floor if it was still warm,¡± Soya teased.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tempt me,¡± Davonte shot back, grinning.


    The chatter of students grew louder as they neared the hall, and the heavy wooden doors swung open to reveal a familiar but no less impressive sight. The enchanted ceiling mirrored the sky outside¡ªa bright, clear blue dotted with fluffy white clouds. Long tables stretched across the room, already laden with platters of food that gleamed under the soft glow of floating candles.


    Soya, Davonte, and Draven made their way to the Thylacea table, slipping into seats near the middle. Around them, students laughed, joked, and swapped stories about their morning classes.


    ¡°Did you hear about Marlowe?¡± a second-year across from them said, leaning conspiratorially toward his friends. ¡°He tripped over his own robes and spilled his whole potion. Blackthorn gave him detention on the spot.¡±


    ¡°Classic Marlowe,¡± someone replied, snickering. "He''ll be scrubbing cauldrons with a snickerwort''s quills for weeks."


    Soya helped himself to a slice of crusty bread and a bowl of hearty stew, the rich aroma making his stomach growl. Across the table, Davonte piled his plate high with roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and what looked like a mountain of steamed vegetables.


    ¡°You know,¡± Davonte said between bites, ¡°I think this might be the best part of the day. No basilisks, no runaway plants¡ªjust good food and no responsibilities for the next thirty minutes.¡±


    Draven raised an eyebrow, delicately slicing into a piece of fish. ¡°You say that as though the afternoon won¡¯t bring its own challenges.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s called optimism, Draven. You should try it sometime,¡± Davonte replied with a grin.


    Soya smirked, but his attention drifted to the head table. The professors were seated as usual, though there was an unmistakable tension in the air. Headmaster Spellchecker sat in the center, speaking quietly with Professor Greenbark, whose expression was unusually serious.


    ¡°Do you think they¡¯re still worried about the wards?¡± Soya asked quietly, nodding toward the head table.


    Davonte followed his gaze, his grin fading slightly. ¡°Probably. They wouldn¡¯t call off the lockdown if they weren¡¯t sure, but that doesn¡¯t mean everything¡¯s fixed.¡±


    Draven set his fork down, his gaze sharp. ¡°It¡¯s unlikely the danger has fully passed. A temporary solution may be in place, but the underlying issues remain unresolved.¡±


    ¡°Comforting,¡± Davonte muttered, stabbing a piece of potato with his fork.


    Soya didn¡¯t reply, his thoughts swirling as he watched the headmaster. Spellchecker¡¯s eyes scanned the room, lingering for a moment on the Thylacea table before moving on. Soya couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that the headmaster was watching more than just the students.


    The rest of lunch passed in a blur of conversation and clinking plates. By the time the bell rang again, signaling the end of the break, the trio had managed to distract themselves from their worries¡ªat least for a little while.


    ¡°Alright, what¡¯s next?¡± Davonte asked as they left the hall, adjusting his satchel.


    ¡°Defense Against the Dark Arts,¡± Draven replied. ¡°A fitting subject, considering recent events.¡±


    Davonte snorted. ¡°Yeah, because nothing says ¡®safe¡¯ like learning how to fight off a dark creature in a castle full of them.¡±


    Soya managed a small smile, though the unease in his chest hadn¡¯t fully faded. As they headed toward their next class, he couldn¡¯t help but glance back at the Great Hall, the image of Spellchecker¡¯s watchful gaze lingering in his mind.


    The classroom buzzed with anticipation as students filed in for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Elise Marilla, with her sharp features and piercing green eyes, stood at the front of the room, her stance calm yet commanding. Her long, teal robes shimmered faintly, hinting at enchantments woven into the fabric. Behind her, an array of enchanted targets and dummies floated in the air, their wooden surfaces glowing faintly with protective spells.


    ¡°Settle down,¡± she said, her voice cutting cleanly through the chatter. Instantly, the room fell silent.


    ¡°We¡¯ve spent weeks on defensive spells, shields, and counter-curses,¡± she began, pacing slowly. ¡°Today, we turn to offense. While I emphasize the importance of defense, there will be times when you must act decisively to incapacitate your foe.¡±


    A wave of excitement rippled through the students. Offensive magic was a rare treat in class, often reserved for advanced years.


    Professor Marilla raised her wand, a sleek piece of pale wood with a faintly glowing core. ¡°The spell we¡¯re learning today is Incendio Fluctus¡ªa controlled wave of fire designed to create space between you and an opponent. It¡¯s highly effective against magical creatures and aggressive wizards.¡±


    She turned to a practice dummy positioned in the center of the room. ¡°Observe.¡±


    Flicking her wand in a sweeping arc, she called out, ¡°Incendio Fluctus!¡± A wave of flame erupted from her wand, rushing forward in a controlled arc before dissipating just as it reached the target. The dummy swayed slightly but remained unharmed, a faint scorch mark on its surface.


    ¡°The key is control,¡± Professor Marilla explained. ¡°This is not wild fire magic. You must visualize the arc and ensure it does not spiral out of control. Now, pair up and take your positions at the practice stations. One partner will cast the spell, while the other will stand at a safe distance to observe and provide feedback.¡±


    Soya, Davonte, and Draven quickly claimed a corner station. Draven volunteered to go first, stepping forward with his wand poised. His piercing gray eyes narrowed as he focused on the target.


    ¡°Incendio Fluctus!¡± he called out, flicking his wand with precision. A burst of fire shot forward, but the arc wobbled, the flames splashing harmlessly against the ground.


    ¡°Too much wrist movement,¡± Professor Marilla commented as she passed by. ¡°Keep the motion steady and deliberate.¡±


    Draven nodded, his face expressionless but clearly processing the feedback.


    Next, it was Davonte¡¯s turn. His deep, commanding voice rang out as he cast, ¡°Incendio Fluctus!¡± The flames surged forward in a clean arc, striking the target directly and leaving a smoldering mark.


    ¡°Well done, Mr. Evander,¡± Professor Marilla said with a rare smile. ¡°Your control is impressive.¡±


    Finally, Soya stepped up, his hands trembling slightly as he gripped his wand. He adjusted his glasses and took a deep breath, muttering to himself for encouragement. With a sharp flick, he called out, ¡°Incendio Fluctus!¡±


    The flames leapt from his wand, but instead of a controlled arc, they exploded outward in a chaotic burst, singeing the edges of the practice dummy.


    ¡°Control, Mr. Vareen!¡± Professor Marilla said sharply, though not unkindly. ¡°Focus on shaping the flame. Visualize the arc before you cast.¡±


    Soya nodded, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. ¡°Yes, Professor.¡±


    By the end of the lesson, the room was filled with the scent of singed wood and the faint heat of residual magic. Though some students struggled, many managed to produce stable arcs of flame by the class¡¯s end. Professor Marilla dismissed them with a stern reminder to practice their control and warned against attempting the spell unsupervised.


    As the trio gathered their belongings, Soya glanced at Davonte and Draven. ¡°Well, at least I didn¡¯t set anything on fire... besides the dummy.¡±


    Draven smirked faintly. ¡°Progress.¡±


    Davonte clapped Soya on the shoulder. ¡°You¡¯ll get it next time. Just visualize it like drawing one of your creatures.¡±


    Soya smiled at the encouragement, his confidence slowly returning as they left the classroom.

 Chapter 28: Sage Returns

    The sharp, damp air of the underhalls clung to Sage Blackthorn as he carefully moved through the labyrinthine passages beneath Austramore. His footsteps were barely a whisper against the stone floor, each step deliberate as he avoided drawing attention to himself. The torches lining the walls flickered faintly, their flames struggling against the oppressive darkness.


    He kept one hand on the cold wall, tracing his way through the narrow corridors. Though he was no stranger to the underhalls, the tension in his chest was undeniable. These hidden passages were rarely traveled by students, especially during the lockdown, and even Sage, with his penchant for secrecy, felt the weight of the silence.


    As he approached a rusted iron grate embedded in the wall, muffled voices filtered through. Sage stilled, his ears straining to catch the conversation. He crouched low, his dark eyes narrowing as he peered through the slats. The room beyond the grate was a small, forgotten chamber, dimly lit by a single enchanted lantern. Two students stood there, their faces partially obscured by the shadows.


    "...can''t believe it. Classes are back tomorrow," one of them said, his voice tinged with disbelief.


    "Yeah, the prefect said they¡¯ve ¡®resolved the issue.¡¯ Whatever that means," the other replied, crossing her arms. "They didn¡¯t explain anything about how they managed to fix the wards or deal with... you know."


    The first student hesitated before speaking again, his tone dropping to a hushed whisper. "You mean the beast?"


    The girl nodded. "What else? That thing tore through Bunjil¡¯s common room like it was nothing. How could they possibly stop it?"


    Sage leaned closer, his brow furrowing. The words sent a chill down his spine. He had etched those runes into the beast¡¯s horns himself, a task that had taken days of careful work and secrecy. The runes were meant to channel raw magic, to amplify the creature¡¯s natural power and resilience. They weren¡¯t supposed to be used against the school.


    At least, that¡¯s what Sevrin had assured him.


    But now the lockdown was lifted? And the professors had somehow resolved the very chaos Sage and Sevrin had helped unleash? It didn¡¯t add up. The beast was nearly indestructible, its runes impervious to most magic. What could they have done to neutralize it so quickly?


    A bead of sweat trickled down his temple as he tried to piece it together. Had the professors discovered the runes¡¯ origins? Did they know he was involved? No, they couldn¡¯t. If they did, he wouldn¡¯t be skulking through the underhalls. He¡¯d already be expelled¡ªor worse.


    The girl¡¯s voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Anyway, we¡¯ll know more tomorrow. The prefects didn¡¯t say much, but it sounds like things are finally getting back to normal."


    The other student let out a scoff. "Yeah, sure. Normal. As if anything¡¯s been normal this year."


    The pair moved toward the chamber¡¯s exit, their voices fading as they disappeared down a side passage. Sage waited a moment longer, ensuring the coast was clear before he straightened and stepped away from the grate. His mind raced as he retraced his steps through the underhalls.


    Something wasn¡¯t right. The professors might have claimed to resolve the issue, but Sage knew better. The beast wasn¡¯t the kind of problem that could be solved overnight. And if they¡¯d somehow managed to stop it, it meant they had access to magic far beyond what Sage had anticipated.


    Magic that could very well uncover his involvement.


    His fists clenched at his sides, frustration and unease bubbling within him. He needed answers¡ªand fast.


    Sage paced through the dim corridors of the underhalls, his mind spiraling as the implications of what he¡¯d overheard began to take root. The professors hadn¡¯t simply neutralized the beast¡ªit had to be more than that. They¡¯d done something far beyond what he thought was possible. And if anyone at Austramore was capable of unraveling the runes he had painstakingly etched into the creature, it was his father.


    Seikan Blackthorn.


    The name weighed heavily in his mind. His father had taught him everything he knew about runes, their ancient power, their potential. It wasn¡¯t just a family skill; it was an art, an inheritance passed down through the generations. Seikan¡¯s mastery was unmatched. And Sage had foolishly thought he could operate in the shadows without his father noticing.


    The realization hit him like a wave: Seikan must have seen the runes.


    Sage halted in his tracks, leaning against the cold stone wall as he tried to steady his breathing. It made perfect sense. The creature had been stopped, and there was only one way that could have happened. Seikan had seen the runes, recognized the intricate style, and pieced it together. The symbols were unique to their family¡ªa carefully guarded craft that only three living people could wield.


    And Seikan would know his sons¡¯ work anywhere.


    Sage let out a bitter laugh, the sound echoing faintly in the empty corridor. Of course his father would figure it out. He always did. But the thought that Seikan might know Sage was involved sent a chill down his spine. His absence from the school¡¯s main halls, the lockdown coinciding with the chaos¡ªit all painted a damning picture.


    Still, there was something that didn¡¯t add up. If Seikan had truly identified him as the culprit, why hadn¡¯t he been dragged out of the underhalls and thrown before the headmaster? Why hadn¡¯t he been expelled on the spot?


    Sage¡¯s mind raced. Maybe Seikan didn¡¯t have concrete proof yet. Maybe he was biding his time, waiting for Sage to make a mistake. Or perhaps¡ªSage¡¯s stomach turned at the thought¡ªSeikan was keeping his involvement a secret. If his father had reversed the runes, it meant he had taken on the burden of responsibility himself, quietly cleaning up Sage¡¯s mess without drawing attention to it.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    But why?


    Sage pushed off the wall, resuming his restless pacing. He clenched his fists, the familiar frustration bubbling up inside him. Seikan¡¯s silence wasn¡¯t mercy¡ªit was strategy. His father was likely calculating his next move, deciding how to confront Sage without exposing the family¡¯s secrets to the rest of the school.


    He cursed under his breath. He¡¯d been careful, meticulous, but Seikan¡¯s expertise had always been a step ahead. And now, Sage was caught in a web of his own making, with no clear way out.


    His thoughts shifted to the beast. The runes he¡¯d inscribed had been designed to amplify its power, to make it unstoppable. Yet, Seikan had undone them. It was a testament to his father¡¯s skill¡ªand a sharp reminder of Sage¡¯s own limitations. He had underestimated Seikan, as he always did.


    But more than that, Sage realized, he had underestimated the gravity of his actions. What had started as a way to impress Sevrin, to prove his worth among those who saw power as everything, had spiraled into something far beyond his control. And now, the consequences were closing in.


    Sage slowed his pace, his hands pressed into his pockets as he leaned against the wall again. He needed to think, to plan his next steps. If Seikan truly knew, then Sage couldn¡¯t afford to stay in hiding forever. He had to anticipate what his father would do next.


    All he could do was wait¡ªand prepare for the inevitable confrontation. Because if there was one thing Sage knew about Seikan, it was that his father didn¡¯t let mistakes go unanswered.


    Sage moved through the dim corridors with practiced silence, his footsteps light against the ancient stone. The route to the Yarramundi common room was burned into his memory, though it had been weeks since he¡¯d last walked it. His heart pounded in his chest¡ªnot from fear, but from the anticipation of facing his housemates. He needed to be cautious, to control the narrative before questions spiraled beyond his ability to manage.


    As he approached the familiar sandstone archway, he whispered the house password, "Eucalyptus." The magical barrier shimmered faintly before dissolving, granting him entry. The Yarramundi common room was just as he remembered it¡ªwarm tones of ochre and gold reflected in the furnishings, large windows enchanted to show a serene forest view, and students scattered about, talking or studying. For a fleeting moment, the normalcy of it all felt surreal.


    The room fell quiet as soon as he stepped inside.


    Every head turned toward him, eyes wide with shock. A few students stood up, their faces a mix of relief and disbelief. Sage clenched his fists at his sides, maintaining a carefully neutral expression as the tension in the room thickened.


    "Sage?" One of the prefects, a tall boy named Lyle Henshaw, stepped forward, his brow furrowed. "You¡¯re... alive?"


    The corner of Sage¡¯s mouth twitched into a faint smirk. "Nice to see you too, Lyle."


    Lyle didn¡¯t return the smile. His sharp eyes scanned Sage from head to toe, as if searching for signs of injury. "You and Sevrin have been missing for weeks. Everyone thought..." He trailed off, his voice faltering.


    "Thought we were dead?" Sage finished for him, his tone casual. "Sorry to disappoint."


    The prefect¡¯s frown deepened. "Where have you been? The professors have been searching everywhere."


    "Out of sight, obviously," Sage replied smoothly, shrugging as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Sevrin and I found a safe spot during the chaos and stayed put. Figured it was better than running into one of those creatures prowling around."


    A few students murmured in agreement, their expressions softening. Lyle, however, didn¡¯t seem entirely convinced.


    "You didn¡¯t think to send a message? Let someone know you were alive?" Lyle pressed, crossing his arms.


    Sage tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness. "We would have, but, you know, creatures everywhere. Didn¡¯t want to risk leading anything back to the rest of the school. Besides, it looks like everything¡¯s under control now, right?"


    The room was silent for a moment, the students exchanging uncertain glances. Sage could feel the weight of their scrutiny, but he kept his posture relaxed, his expression calm. Doubt was a fire easily extinguished with the right tone and timing.


    "Well," Lyle said at last, his voice losing some of its edge, "I¡¯m glad you¡¯re alright. The professors will want to know you¡¯re back. You and Sevrin need to report to them as soon as possible."


    "Of course," Sage said, nodding. "First thing tomorrow."


    Lyle hesitated, clearly debating whether to push the issue further, but eventually stepped back. "Alright. Just... don¡¯t disappear like that again. It¡¯s been chaos around here."


    "Noted," Sage replied, his tone light. He glanced around the room, letting his gaze linger on a few familiar faces. "Good to be back."


    The tension in the room gradually eased, conversations resuming as students returned to their books and games. Sage let out a quiet breath, his mind racing beneath the composed exterior. He had deflected their questions for now, but he knew the prefects would report his return to the professors soon enough.


    For now, he needed to focus on his next move. Keeping his expression neutral, he made his way to an empty armchair by the window, settling in as though nothing was amiss. The enchanted view of the forest beyond was calm and unchanging, a stark contrast to the storm brewing within him.


    If Seikan truly knew what Sage had done, the days ahead would be anything but calm.


    Sage sat on his bed, his rune book spread open before him, the pages illuminated by the soft glow of his wand. The familiar smell of old parchment and ink filled the air, grounding him as his fingers traced the intricate lines of a half-finished rune sketched on the page. Each line and curve told a story of power and precision, but tonight, they felt heavier than usual¡ªlike chains binding him to the choices he¡¯d made.


    His thoughts wandered as he flipped through the pages, revisiting older designs and notes from years of practice. These were the runes he had poured countless hours into, experimenting and perfecting under his father¡¯s careful eye. Yet now, they seemed tainted, their purpose twisted by the events that had unfolded.


    The memory of the beast flashed in his mind¡ªthe shimmering horns etched with his work, its destructive power unleashed upon the school. He clenched his jaw, the weight of responsibility pressing against his chest. This wasn¡¯t what the runes were meant for. They were supposed to be tools of creation, of discovery, not weapons of chaos.


    His hand hovered over a newer sketch¡ªa binding rune designed to control movement. He had drawn it during a particularly restless night, his thoughts swirling with the possibilities it offered. Now, the sight of it made his stomach churn. The potential for harm was all too clear.


    Closing the book with a soft thud, Sage leaned back against the wall, his eyes fixed on the enchanted window beside him. The forest view outside remained still, a serene backdrop that contrasted sharply with the storm brewing within him. He couldn¡¯t dwell on this forever. He needed to act, to figure out what came next before everything spiraled further out of control.


    Soya sat cross-legged on his bed in the Thylacea dormitory, his wand held loosely in one hand as he practiced simple spells. His other hand absentmindedly scratched behind Inkwell¡¯s ears, the kitten letting out soft purrs between playful swats at an enchanted ball of light hovering above them.


    ¡°Lumos,¡± Soya muttered, his wand tip igniting with a warm glow. He waved it gently, causing the light to dance across the room in small, deliberate arcs.


    Inkwell¡¯s ears perked up, and she lunged at the light, her tiny paws batting at the air as if she could catch it. Soya chuckled softly, dimming the light with a quiet "Nox" before casting it again.


    He glanced at his notes spread out on the blanket beside him. Basic charms, transfiguration exercises, and even a few jotted-down theories on how runes might amplify simple spells. The professors had warned against mixing disciplines too early, but curiosity always got the better of him.


    ¡°Wingardium Leviosa,¡± he said, pointing his wand at a stray quill. It rose unsteadily into the air, wobbling slightly before falling back onto the bed. Soya sighed, adjusting his grip on the wand. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s try that again.¡±


    The quill lifted once more, this time holding steady. A small smile tugged at Soya¡¯s lips, though it quickly turned into a laugh as Inkwell leaped onto the bed, swatting at the quill and knocking it to the floor.


    ¡°Really?¡± Soya asked, raising an eyebrow at the kitten, who mewed innocently in response. He leaned over to retrieve the quill, pausing to give Inkwell a gentle pat on the head. ¡°You¡¯re a troublemaker, you know that?¡±


    The dormitory was quiet apart from Inkwell¡¯s soft purring and the occasional crackle of the fireplace down the hall. Soya found comfort in the routine, in the small moments of calm after weeks of chaos. Yet, even as he practiced, his mind wandered back to the events of the past few days¡ªthe runes, Eliza, the mysterious forces threatening Austramore.


    He sighed, setting his wand down beside him and leaning back against the headboard. Inkwell climbed onto his lap, curling up into a tiny ball of fur. Soya absentmindedly stroked her back, his thoughts drifting as the flickering light of the fireplace cast shadows on the walls.

 Chapter 29: Questions

    Sevrin moved cautiously through the damp, dimly lit corridors of the underhalls, the weight of the stone walls pressing in on him. The air was thick, a faint metallic tang lingering that made his stomach churn. He adjusted his pace, boots scuffing softly against the uneven floor, his hand instinctively resting near his wand holster. The torchlight from the sconces flickered weakly, casting long, distorted shadows that danced on the walls.


    Ahead, in a cavernous alcove, a figure waited.


    Salsiar.


    The sight of him always sent a shiver down Sevrin¡¯s spine, though he did his best to mask it. The demon stood tall, his broad frame cloaked in dark, tattered robes that seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it. His piercing eyes, an unnatural shade of molten gold, locked onto Sevrin as he approached, their intensity cutting through the shadows like a blade.


    "You¡¯re late," Salsiar said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that seemed to resonate in the very walls around them.


    Sevrin hesitated, his hand tightening into a fist. "I wasn¡¯t followed."


    Salsiar¡¯s lips curved into a cold, humorless smile. "You don¡¯t strike me as the careful type, Virelle. Reckless, perhaps. Impulsive, definitely. But careful?" He tilted his head slightly. "No."


    Sevrin clenched his jaw, forcing himself to meet the demon¡¯s gaze. "I did what you asked. The basilisk attacks, the runes¡ªwe¡¯ve done our part. What more do you want?"


    Salsiar stepped forward, the sound of his boots echoing ominously. "Your part? Tell me, Sevrin, do you truly understand the part you¡¯ve played? Or are you just another pawn in a game you can¡¯t comprehend?"


    The air grew colder, and Sevrin fought the urge to take a step back. "I know enough."


    "Do you?" Salsiar¡¯s voice dropped, the words almost a growl. "Because from where I stand, all I see is a boy dabbling in forces far beyond his grasp. You¡¯ve unleashed chaos, yes. But chaos without direction is meaningless."


    Sevrin¡¯s breath hitched, his pulse quickening. "I didn¡¯t¡ª"


    "You didn¡¯t think," Salsiar interrupted, his tone sharp. "And now the professors are undoing your work, one piece at a time. Your precious runes? Broken. Your beasts? Neutralized. You¡¯ve been sloppy, Virelle."


    The accusation cut deeper than Sevrin expected. He opened his mouth to retort, but before he could speak, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the hall.


    Salsiar stiffened, his eyes narrowing as his head turned toward the sound. Sevrin¡¯s stomach sank as a familiar figure stepped into view.


    Professor Marilla.


    Her sharp, hawk-like features were illuminated by the flickering torchlight, her dark robes billowing slightly as she approached. Her expression was unreadable, but her piercing gaze settled on Sevrin with unmistakable authority.


    "Mr. Virelle," she said, her voice calm but laced with steel. "What exactly are you doing down here?"


    Sevrin swallowed hard, his mind racing for an excuse, but the words caught in his throat. The presence of Salsiar loomed behind him, a silent reminder of the precarious situation he was in.


    Marilla¡¯s eyes flicked to the demon, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn¡¯t flinch or show any sign of fear, though her wand hand remained ready at her side. "And who is this?" she asked, her tone icy.


    Salsiar chuckled, the sound low and unsettling. "Just an old friend of young Sevrin here. Passing through, you might say."


    Marilla¡¯s gaze didn¡¯t waver. "Passing through? Unlikely. You¡¯re trespassing in Austramore¡¯s restricted areas. Leave now, or I¡¯ll ensure you do."


    Salsiar smirked, his molten eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. "How bold. But I¡¯m not here to cause trouble, Professor. Not yet."


    Marilla¡¯s grip on her wand tightened imperceptibly. "You¡¯ll leave regardless. Now."


    The demon¡¯s smile faded slightly, but he inclined his head, stepping back into the shadows. "Very well. But I¡¯ll be seeing you again." His voice lingered, even as his form disappeared into the darkness.


    Once the silence returned, Marilla turned her full attention to Sevrin, her expression hard. "You¡¯re coming with me."


    Sevrin hesitated, his instincts screaming at him to run, but the weight of her presence left him rooted to the spot. Without another word, Marilla gestured for him to follow, her eyes watching him like a hawk as they ascended the winding steps back toward the castle proper.


    Sevrin¡¯s footsteps echoed hollowly as he followed Professor Marilla through the winding corridors toward the Headmaster¡¯s office. His mind churned with a thousand questions, but none of them found their way to his lips. The air grew heavier as they climbed the spiraling staircase leading to the heart of Austramore¡¯s authority. The stone rainbow serpent at the base of the stairway had parted without a word from Marilla, and now the door loomed ahead, a barrier between him and the reckoning he knew awaited.


    Marilla pushed the door open with a firm hand, stepping aside to allow Sevrin to enter. The Headmaster¡¯s office was grand yet austere, its walls lined with towering shelves filled with tomes and artifacts older than most wizards could comprehend. The air hummed faintly with enchantments, and the flickering candlelight illuminated the intricate carvings on the wooden desk that dominated the room¡¯s center.


    Sage was already there.


    He sat stiffly in a high-backed chair, his expression guarded but tinged with defiance. His gaze flicked to Sevrin for a brief moment before returning to the Headmaster, who stood behind his desk, hands clasped behind his back.


    Boromus Spellchecker was an imposing figure, not because of his stature¡ªhe was shorter and frailer than most imagined¡ªbut because of the way his presence filled the room. His deep-set eyes, sharp and calculating, seemed to see into the very soul of anyone who dared meet them. His silver beard, long and meticulously kept, gave him the air of a sage whose wisdom transcended lifetimes.


    "Mr. Virelle," Spellchecker said, his voice calm but laced with authority. "Take a seat."


    Sevrin hesitated for a moment before obeying, lowering himself into the chair beside Sage. The silence in the room was oppressive, broken only by the faint ticking of an ancient clock on the wall.


    Marilla closed the door behind her and took her place to the side, her stern gaze fixed on the two boys.


    Spellchecker regarded them in silence for a long moment, his hands resting on the edge of his desk. The room seemed to hold its breath.


    Finally, he spoke. "I trust you both understand the seriousness of this situation."


    Neither boy responded, their silence speaking volumes.


    Spellchecker¡¯s gaze sharpened. "Mr. Virelle, Mr. Blackthorn¡ªyour absence during the lockdown has not gone unnoticed. Nor have the events that unfolded during that time. Basilisk attacks, breached walls, ancient runes tampered with¡­ and yet, here you are. Safe, and suspiciously unscathed."


    Sevrin shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but Sage remained stone-faced.


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    The Headmaster¡¯s eyes narrowed. "I am not here to accuse you. Not yet. But I am here for answers."


    Sevrin opened his mouth to speak, but Spellchecker held up a hand, stopping him. "Not yet, Mr. Virelle."


    The Headmaster circled his desk, his movements deliberate. His gaze swept over the two boys, as if assessing their very essence.


    And then, his inner thoughts stirred.


    These boys¡­ they are but pieces in a game far greater than they realize. Pawns, yes, but not innocent. They¡¯ve been used, manipulated. But by whom? And to what end?


    His eyes lingered on Sage, noting the tension in his posture, the way his fingers fidgeted subtly against the armrest of his chair.


    Sage Blackthorn¡­ so much like his father. Brilliant, but reckless. And dangerous, if guided by the wrong hands.


    Then his gaze shifted to Sevrin. Unlike Sage, Sevrin wore his emotions on his sleeve¡ªanger, frustration, fear. All barely contained.


    Sevrin Virelle. Always seeking something just out of reach. Approval, power, purpose. But now¡­ he¡¯s tangled in something far beyond his understanding.


    Spellchecker¡¯s voice broke the silence. "Mr. Blackthorn, let us begin with you. Where were you during the lockdown?"


    Sage¡¯s jaw tightened, but he met the Headmaster¡¯s gaze evenly. "Exploring," he said simply.


    Spellchecker raised an eyebrow. "Exploring? In the middle of a lockdown that saw basilisks breaching the castle walls?"


    Sage¡¯s expression didn¡¯t falter. "I wanted answers. I thought I could find something the professors had missed."


    "And did you?" Spellchecker asked, his tone sharp.


    Sage hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. "No."


    Spellchecker nodded slowly, as if expecting the answer. He turned to Sevrin. "And you, Mr. Virelle? What was your role in all of this?"


    Sevrin¡¯s throat tightened. "I¡­ I was with Sage. We thought¡ª"


    "You thought," Spellchecker interrupted, his voice cutting through Sevrin¡¯s words like a blade. "You thought, or you acted without thought?"


    Sevrin¡¯s mouth opened, then closed again. He looked away, unable to meet the Headmaster¡¯s piercing gaze.


    Spellchecker exhaled softly, the weight of his years evident in the sound. "I see. You believed you were seeking answers, but instead, you found yourselves deeper in the web of those who would see this school¡ªand our world¡ªbrought to ruin."


    He returned to his desk, placing his hands on its surface and leaning forward. "The two of you know more than you¡¯re willing to admit. I am certain of it. And I will uncover the truth, whether you choose to share it or not."


    The room fell into a heavy silence once more.


    But Spellchecker¡¯s thoughts continued, unspoken.


    They¡¯re hiding something. Perhaps not out of malice, but fear. Fear of retribution. Fear of whatever, or whoever else holds their strings.


    He straightened, his expression softening slightly. "You will remain in your common rooms unless accompanied by a professor or prefect. Any further infractions will result in expulsion. Am I understood?"


    Both boys nodded, their silence finally broken by their subdued agreement.


    ¡°Now,¡± Spellchecker began, his voice calm but pointed, ¡°there¡¯s another matter we must address. Eliza Trent.¡± He paused deliberately, watching the subtle reactions the name provoked.


    Sage¡¯s jaw tightened imperceptibly, his eyes darting toward Sevrin for the briefest of moments. Sevrin shifted in his seat, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair a little too tightly. Both reactions were slight, almost imperceptible, but Spellchecker missed nothing.


    ¡°Miss Trent has been missing for quite some time now,¡± the Headmaster continued, his tone measured. ¡°A concerning disappearance, particularly given the timing of recent events. Tell me, do either of you have any information regarding her whereabouts? Perhaps something you saw or heard during your so-called explorations?¡±


    Sevrin¡¯s mouth opened, then closed again, his expression wavering between confusion and defensiveness. ¡°We¡­ we didn¡¯t see anything. I mean, we heard about her, of course, but¡ª¡±


    Sage cut him off with a sharp glance. ¡°We don¡¯t know anything about Eliza,¡± he said firmly, his voice steady but lacking its usual confidence.


    Spellchecker leaned forward slightly, his steepled fingers resting under his chin. His gaze remained fixed on the boys, unblinking, unyielding. ¡°You seem very sure of that, Mr. Blackthorn. And yet, your reactions tell a different story.¡±


    Sage¡¯s composure faltered for the first time, a flicker of unease crossing his face. ¡°I¡ªwhat do you mean?¡±


    The Headmaster¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°I mean that your demeanor suggests you¡¯re withholding something. A detail, perhaps. A fragment of information you deem unimportant or inconvenient. Let me be clear¡ªthis is not the time for half-truths.¡±


    Sevrin looked down at his hands, his fingers twisting nervously. ¡°We don¡¯t know anything,¡± he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.


    Spellchecker studied them for a long moment, his mind whirring behind his calm exterior.


    Eliza¡¯s claims hold water. Their reactions all but confirm it. They know more than they¡¯re willing to admit, but fear binds their tongues. Fear of what? Retribution? Exposure? Or the forces they¡¯ve entangled themselves with?


    Finally, the Headmaster straightened, his tone shifting to one of finality. ¡°Very well. I will take you at your word for now. But understand this¡ªsecrets have a way of surfacing at the worst possible times. If there is anything you are keeping from me, you would do well to reconsider.¡±


    Both boys nodded stiffly, relief barely masked behind their tense expressions.


    Spellchecker waved a hand toward the door. ¡°You are dismissed. Return to your common rooms and stay there unless summoned. This is not a suggestion.¡±


    Sevrin and Sage rose quickly, neither daring to meet the Headmaster¡¯s gaze as they exited the office. The heavy oak door closed behind them with a soft but resounding thud, leaving Spellchecker alone.


    The Headmaster sat back in his chair, his sharp eyes flicking toward the enchanted map on the wall. The fractures in Austramore¡¯s defenses still pulsed faintly, a visual reminder of the danger lurking within the castle¡¯s very walls.


    He steepled his fingers again, his expression unreadable.


    They know more. That much is certain. But they are not the architects of this chaos. They are pawns, manipulated by forces far older and darker than themselves. And Eliza¡­ her survival must remain hidden for now. If those responsible were to learn of her recovery, they would escalate their plans. I cannot allow that.


    Spellchecker¡¯s gaze drifted to the pile of reports on his desk, each one detailing the mounting threats facing Austramore. Basilisk sightings, ancient runes tampered with, the indestructible beast that breached the castle walls¡ªevery piece of the puzzle pointed to a grander scheme, one that still eluded him.


    He exhaled slowly, the weight of his years pressing heavily on his shoulders.


    This is far from over. But the game is shifting, and the next move must be mine.


    With that, he reached for his quill, the soft scratch of ink on parchment filling the room as he began drafting his next course of action.


    The quiet corridors of Austramore echoed with Sevrin and Sage¡¯s hurried footsteps, their voices hushed as they walked side by side, their minds heavy with the weight of Spellchecker¡¯s interrogation.


    ¡°Do you think he knows?¡± Sevrin asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes darting nervously down the dimly lit hall.


    ¡°He suspects,¡± Sage replied flatly, though his jaw clenched as he spoke. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t have asked about Eliza if he didn¡¯t already have some idea. But he¡¯s careful¡ªhe won¡¯t act unless he¡¯s sure.¡±


    Sevrin frowned, his pace slowing slightly. ¡°What if he finds out about the beast? About the runes? We didn¡¯t exactly cover our tracks well.¡±


    Sage shot him a sharp look, his voice low and laced with frustration. ¡°Don¡¯t fall apart on me now, Sevrin. Spellchecker might be wise, but he doesn¡¯t have proof. And as long as he doesn¡¯t, we¡¯re still in the clear.¡±


    Sevrin nodded hesitantly, but his unease lingered. ¡°I just¡­ I didn¡¯t think it would get this far.¡±


    Sage¡¯s expression hardened. ¡°Neither did I.¡±


    As they approached the Yarramundi common room, the sound of footsteps echoed behind them. Both boys stiffened, exchanging a wary glance before turning to see the imposing figure of Seikan Blackthorn striding toward them, his emerald-green eyes sharp and unyielding.


    ¡°Sevrin,¡± Seikan said curtly, his voice cold and clipped. ¡°Continue to the common room.¡±


    Sevrin¡¯s eyes widened, a flicker of panic crossing his face as he glanced at Sage, who remained unnervingly still.


    ¡°Professor Blackthorn,¡± Sevrin began, his voice trembling slightly, ¡°I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Go,¡± Seikan interrupted, his tone brooking no argument.


    Sevrin swallowed hard and gave Sage a fleeting, uncertain look before turning and hurrying toward the common room, the heavy door creaking shut behind him.


    The hallway grew deathly silent as Seikan turned his full attention to Sage. His expression was unreadable, but the tension in the air was palpable.


    ¡°Walk with me,¡± Seikan said, his voice low but commanding.


    Sage followed silently, his face carefully neutral, though his mind raced with possibilities. They moved down the corridor, the faint glow of enchanted torches casting long shadows along the stone walls.


    When they were far enough from the common room, Seikan stopped abruptly and turned to face his son. His gaze was piercing, cutting through the mask Sage so often wore.


    ¡°I know it was you,¡± Seikan said simply, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of restrained anger. ¡°The runes on that beast¡¯s horns¡ªthey¡¯re unmistakably mine. And there are only two others alive who could replicate my work. Salem was accounted for, which leaves you.¡±


    Sage¡¯s composure faltered for a split second, his lips pressing into a thin line. ¡°I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Do not lie to me,¡± Seikan interrupted sharply, his tone like a blade. ¡°You inscribed those runes, Sage. And don¡¯t insult my intelligence by pretending otherwise.¡±


    Sage straightened, his expression hardening as he met his father¡¯s gaze. ¡°Yes, I did. But I didn¡¯t know¡ª¡±


    Seikan¡¯s eyes flashed with fury, and Sage fell silent.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t know what?¡± Seikan demanded, his voice rising slightly. ¡°That your runes would be used to create a weapon? That they would breach the walls of this school and endanger countless lives? Or did you simply not care?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know it would be used here,¡± Sage snapped, his frustration boiling over. ¡°I thought¡ª¡±


    ¡°You thought nothing,¡± Seikan cut in coldly. ¡°You acted recklessly, arrogantly, and now you¡¯ve dragged this family¡¯s name through the mud. Do you have any idea what you¡¯ve done?¡±


    Sage¡¯s fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean for this to happen.¡±


    ¡°But it did,¡± Seikan said sharply. ¡°And you will take responsibility for it.¡±


    For a long moment, they stared at each other, the tension between them almost unbearable. Finally, Seikan exhaled slowly, his voice lowering but losing none of its edge.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t decided what to do with you yet,¡± he said, his tone icy. ¡°But know this¡ªif I ever find out that my craft has been used in such a manner again, expulsion will be the least of your concerns.¡±


    Sage¡¯s throat tightened, but he said nothing.


    ¡°Go to your common room,¡± Seikan ordered, his voice firm. ¡°And pray you haven¡¯t destroyed what little trust remains between us.¡±


    Without another word, Seikan turned and walked away, his robes billowing behind him as he disappeared into the shadows of the corridor.


    Sage stood there for a moment, his mind a whirlwind of anger, guilt, and frustration. Finally, he turned and made his way back to the common room, his father¡¯s words echoing in his ears like a bitter reminder of the line he had crossed.

 Chapter 30: Oddity Stack

    The morning sunlight poured through the high, arched windows of Austramore¡¯s Great Hall, casting a warm glow over the rows of students filing in for breakfast. The enchanted ceiling mirrored the clear blue sky outside, a rare reprieve from the usual stormy atmosphere that had hung over the school during the lockdown.


    Soya walked alongside Davonte, his sketchbook tucked under his arm as the hum of excited chatter filled the air. The mood was lighter than it had been in weeks, a collective sense of relief spreading through the student body now that classes had resumed. Yet, a subtle tension lingered, unspoken but palpable, like a shadow trailing behind.


    ¡°Think they¡¯ll actually tell us what¡¯s going on?¡± Davonte muttered, his silver eyes scanning the hall as they took their seats at the Thylacea table.


    ¡°Doubt it,¡± Soya replied, setting his sketchbook down beside his plate. ¡°They¡¯ll probably just give us the usual ¡®everything¡¯s under control¡¯ speech and hope we don¡¯t ask too many questions.¡±


    Davonte snorted, reaching for a piece of toast. ¡°Sounds about right. Still, at least we¡¯re not stuck in the common room anymore.¡±


    As the students settled into their seats, the clinking of utensils and quiet conversations filled the hall. Soya glanced around, his gaze lingering on the staff table at the front of the room. Headmaster Boromus Spellchecker stood at the center, his tall figure commanding attention even as he spoke quietly with Professor Wickham and Seikan Blackthorn. The sight of Seikan sent a shiver down Soya¡¯s spine; the man¡¯s presence was as intimidating as it was reassuring.


    The murmurs in the hall quieted as Spellchecker raised his hands, his calm but authoritative voice cutting through the noise. ¡°Students, if I may have your attention.¡±


    The hall fell silent, every eye turning toward the headmaster as he stepped forward, his midnight-blue robes catching the light. His expression was composed, but there was a gravity in his tone that made it clear this was no ordinary announcement.


    ¡°First and foremost, let me commend you all for your patience and cooperation during these past weeks,¡± Spellchecker began, his voice carrying effortlessly through the hall. ¡°The challenges we have faced have been unprecedented, and your resilience has been commendable.¡±


    A ripple of murmured agreement spread through the room, though many students exchanged uneasy glances.


    ¡°I understand that the lack of information has been frustrating,¡± Spellchecker continued, his sharp gaze sweeping across the room. ¡°However, it was necessary to ensure your safety and to allow our staff to address the situation without causing unnecessary alarm.¡±


    Soya shifted in his seat, his fingers absently tracing the edge of his plate. There it was¡ªthe carefully worded reassurance that told them everything and nothing at the same time.


    ¡°Now, I am pleased to inform you that the immediate threat has been contained,¡± Spellchecker said, his tone steady but firm. ¡°Professor Seikan Blackthorn, with his unparalleled expertise in runic magic, has successfully subdued the creature responsible for the breach of the Bunjil common room.¡±


    A wave of hushed whispers swept through the hall at the mention of the beast. Soya glanced at Davonte, whose expression had hardened, his jaw tightening as he stared at the headmaster.


    ¡°The creature,¡± Spellchecker continued, ¡°was a highly dangerous and magically enhanced entity, unlike anything we have encountered before. Thanks to Professor Blackthorn¡¯s swift actions, it has been neutralized and removed from the school grounds.¡±


    Soya¡¯s mind raced, the image of the beast flashing in his memory. The runes on its horns, the sheer force of its attacks¡ªit had been no ordinary creature. And now it was gone, or so they were told.


    ¡°While the immediate danger has passed,¡± Spellchecker went on, ¡°we must remain vigilant. The wards around Austramore have been strengthened, and additional precautions have been implemented to ensure your safety. However, I must remind you all that the situation is not entirely resolved. There are still questions that require answers, and our staff are working tirelessly to uncover the truth.¡±


    The weight of his words hung in the air, a stark reminder that the calm was only temporary.


    ¡°In the meantime,¡± Spellchecker said, his tone softening slightly, ¡°I encourage you to focus on your studies and to support one another. You are the heart of Austramore, and your strength is what will see us through these uncertain times.¡±


    With that, he stepped back, signaling the end of his speech. The hall erupted into murmurs once more, students exchanging theories and speculations in hushed tones.


    ¡°Contained, huh?¡± Davonte muttered, his voice dripping with skepticism. ¡°Doesn¡¯t sound very convincing to me.¡±


    Soya nodded absently, his gaze fixed on the headmaster. Something about the way Spellchecker had spoken¡ªthe careful choice of words, the subtle tension in his posture¡ªleft him uneasy. There was more to this than they were being told.


    The Great Hall began to clear as students finished their breakfast, the chatter and clatter of dishes gradually fading into a quieter hum. Soya, Davonte, and Draven lingered at the Thylacea table, waiting for the rush to die down before heading to their first class.


    ¡°Defence Against the Dark Arts first thing in the morning,¡± Davonte said, standing and stretching. ¡°At least it¡¯s not Potions.¡±


    ¡°Potions wasn¡¯t that bad yesterday,¡± Soya replied, gathering his sketchbook and tucking it under his arm.


    Davonte gave him a skeptical look. ¡°Says the guy who didn¡¯t almost blow up his cauldron.¡±


    ¡°Maybe if you followed the instructions¡ª¡± Draven began, his monotone cutting in.


    ¡°Alright, alright,¡± Davonte interrupted with a grin. ¡°Let¡¯s just get moving before we¡¯re late.¡±


    The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom buzzed with anticipation as Soya, Davonte, and Draven filed in with the rest of their classmates. The room was dimly lit, the walls lined with ancient tomes and flickering lanterns. The faint scent of parchment and aged wood lingered in the air, a constant in the well-worn classroom.


    Professor Marilla stood at the front, her hands clasped behind her back as she surveyed the room with an air of authority. Her dark robes seemed to flow unnaturally, her presence commanding yet slightly different from the usual. Soya took his seat near the middle of the room, his sketchbook tucked securely in his bag. Davonte slouched into the seat beside him, nudging Soya with his elbow.


    ¡°Think we¡¯ll get a proper lesson today or just another lecture on basic defense spells?¡± Davonte whispered, his tone dripping with sarcasm.


    Draven, seated on Soya¡¯s other side, raised an eyebrow. ¡°Given the events of late, I¡¯d wager the lesson will be more... practical.¡±


    Professor Marilla stepped forward, her sharp gaze sweeping over the students. ¡°Settle down,¡± she said curtly, her voice cool and commanding. ¡°Today¡¯s lesson is not for the faint of heart.¡±


    The room fell silent, every student straightening in their seats. Marilla¡¯s tone carried an edge that made even Davonte sit up and pay attention. Soya noticed how her eyes lingered on the class for a moment longer than usual, as if assessing them.


    ¡°We will be learning Expulsum Infernalis,¡± Marilla announced, her voice crisp. ¡°A powerful spell designed to disarm and incapacitate an opponent in one precise strike. It is not to be used lightly, as it requires focus, intent, and discipline.¡±


    Soya¡¯s brow furrowed. This was far beyond the typical curriculum for first years. He exchanged a quick glance with Davonte, who looked equally surprised.


    ¡°Do not mistake this for an opportunity to play hero,¡± Marilla continued, her tone sharp as her eyes swept the room. ¡°This spell is dangerous in inexperienced hands. If you lack the focus or control, you will fail, and failure has consequences.¡±


    A heavy silence filled the room as Marilla flicked her wand toward the blackboard. The incantation and wand movements for Expulsum Infernalis appeared in glowing silver text, each stroke precise and deliberate.


    ¡°Pay attention,¡± Marilla said coldly. ¡°We will practice the wand movements first. Do not attempt the incantation until I say so.¡±


    The class began mimicking the motions displayed on the board, their wands cutting through the air in synchronized arcs. Marilla moved between the rows, her sharp eyes catching every mistake.


    ¡°No,¡± she snapped at one student, her tone biting. ¡°Your wrist is too stiff. Do it again.¡±


    ¡°Too slow,¡± she barked at another. ¡°Your hesitation will cost you.¡±


    Her harsh critiques were relentless, the tension in the room growing with each passing moment. But when she reached Soya, her demeanor shifted entirely.


    ¡°Excellent form, Mr. Vareen,¡± Marilla said, her voice soft and almost... warm. ¡°You¡¯re a natural.¡±


    Soya blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in tone. ¡°Oh, uh, thank you, Professor.¡±


    Her lips curved into a faint smile, her sharp features softening as she watched him practice the motion. ¡°Precision and control. Very well done.¡±


    Soya nodded, though an uneasy feeling crept into his chest. He glanced at Davonte, who gave him a puzzled look but said nothing.


    As the lesson progressed, Marilla¡¯s sharp remarks continued to cut through the room, sparing no one but Soya. Each time she approached him, her voice would soften, her expression losing its usual severity. It was unsettling, though Soya couldn¡¯t quite put his finger on why.


    ¡°Now,¡± Marilla announced, stepping back to the front of the room. ¡°We will move on to the incantation. Pair up and take turns practicing. Remember, this is not a toy. Use it responsibly.¡±Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Soya ended up paired with Draven, who nodded curtly as they took their positions. Davonte teamed up with another student, though he shot Soya a quick thumbs-up before turning his attention back to his partner.


    ¡°Expulsum Infernalis!¡± Draven¡¯s voice rang out, his wand flicking sharply. A bright burst of light shot from his wand, striking the target dummy with enough force to make it stagger.


    ¡°Good,¡± Marilla said, her tone neutral as she observed him. ¡°But your grip needs work. Keep your wrist aligned.¡±


    Draven nodded, his expression unreadable as he adjusted his stance.


    Soya¡¯s turn came next. He hesitated for a moment, the weight of Marilla¡¯s gaze pressing down on him.


    ¡°Go on,¡± she said gently, her voice almost encouraging. ¡°You¡¯ve got this.¡±


    Soya raised his wand, his hand steady despite the nervous flutter in his chest. ¡°Expulsum Infernalis!¡±


    The spell erupted from his wand, a streak of brilliant light slamming into the dummy with enough force to knock it over completely. The class murmured in surprise, and even Davonte let out an impressed whistle.


    ¡°Very impressive,¡± Marilla said, her smile almost too warm. ¡°Truly exceptional work.¡±


    Soya managed a small smile, though the unease in his chest deepened. Why was she acting so differently with him? And why was no one else noticing?


    As the lesson continued, Soya couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that something was... off. Marilla¡¯s demeanor, the focus of the lesson, even the way she moved¡ªit all felt slightly out of place. But without any concrete evidence, he kept his thoughts to himself.


    The classroom slowly emptied as students packed away their belongings, their chatter filling the air with a sense of relief now that the intense lesson had concluded. The target dummies were scattered across the room, some still smoldering faintly from the spells cast against them. Soya lingered at his desk, carefully tucking his wand into his robe pocket and slipping his sketchbook into his bag.


    ¡°Mr. Vareen,¡± Professor Marilla¡¯s voice cut through the noise, firm but not unkind. ¡°A word before you go.¡±


    Soya froze mid-motion, his fingers tightening briefly on the strap of his bag. Davonte and Draven, who had been waiting near the door, exchanged glances.


    ¡°Uh, we¡¯ll wait for you outside,¡± Davonte offered, though his voice carried an unspoken question.


    Soya gave a quick nod, forcing a small smile. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll catch up.¡±


    As the last of the students filed out, Marilla approached the desk where Soya sat, her stern expression softening slightly as she studied him. The classroom door shut behind the final student, leaving the two of them alone.


    ¡°Sit down, Mr. Vareen,¡± Marilla said, gesturing to the chair. Her tone was less commanding now, almost conversational. ¡°This won¡¯t take long.¡±


    Soya hesitated but sat back down, his shoulders stiff as he tried to gauge her intentions. There was something in the way she looked at him¡ªtoo focused, too deliberate.


    ¡°You performed exceptionally well today,¡± Marilla began, her voice even. ¡°The Expulsum Infernalis spell is not an easy one, even for older students.¡±


    ¡°Uh, thank you,¡± Soya replied, his voice cautious. ¡°I just... followed the instructions.¡±


    Marilla¡¯s lips curved into a faint smile. ¡°Humility is a good trait, but don¡¯t underestimate your own potential. You¡¯ve demonstrated a remarkable aptitude for magic since you arrived at Austramore.¡±


    Soya shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unsure how to respond. ¡°I just... try my best, I guess.¡±


    Marilla tilted her head slightly, her gaze unwavering. ¡°And yet, you¡¯ve managed to excel in ways that many others do not. Tell me, Mr. Vareen, what was life like before you came here? As a muggle.¡±


    Soya blinked, taken aback by the question. ¡°Before I came here?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Marilla said smoothly, her tone light but her eyes sharp. ¡°I¡¯m curious about your background. It must have been quite an adjustment, discovering you were a wizard after living in the muggle world for so long.¡±


    Soya hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his robes. ¡°It was... different,¡± he admitted. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s still kind of overwhelming sometimes. There¡¯s so much to learn, and everything here is just... new.¡±


    Marilla nodded, her expression thoughtful. ¡°And yet, you¡¯ve adapted remarkably well. Most muggle-born students struggle with the transition, but you seem to have taken to it almost naturally.¡±


    Soya shrugged, his gaze dropping to the desk. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I guess I just... like learning new things.¡±


    ¡°That much is clear,¡± Marilla said, her voice softening further. ¡°Your talent is exceptional, even among your peers. But tell me, do you ever feel... different? As though there¡¯s something more to your magic?¡±


    The question made Soya¡¯s stomach twist. He looked up at her, his eyes narrowing slightly. ¡°Different how?¡±


    Marilla leaned against the desk, her posture relaxed but her gaze intent. ¡°Some muggle-borns are said to possess unique gifts. Abilities that set them apart, even among wizards. I wonder if you¡¯ve ever noticed anything unusual about your magic.¡±


    Soya¡¯s pulse quickened. The memory of his strange drawings flickered in his mind, but he shoved it down, keeping his expression neutral. ¡°No, not really,¡± he lied.


    Marilla studied him for a moment, her sharp eyes searching his face. Then, she smiled¡ªa small, almost reassuring smile. ¡°Interesting. Well, if anything does come to mind, I¡¯d encourage you to share it. It could be important, not just for your own growth but for understanding the full extent of your potential.¡±


    Soya nodded slowly, though his unease remained. ¡°Okay.¡±


    Marilla straightened, clasping her hands behind her back. ¡°Very well. You¡¯re free to go. But, Mr. Vareen, I hope you¡¯ll continue to apply yourself as you have been. You have a bright future ahead of you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Professor,¡± Soya said, standing and slinging his bag over his shoulder. He moved toward the door, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of the strange conversation.


    As he stepped into the hallway, Davonte and Draven were waiting for him.


    ¡°Everything okay?¡± Davonte asked, his brow furrowed.


    Soya forced a smile. ¡°Yeah, fine. Just... Professor stuff.¡±


    Draven¡¯s gaze lingered on him for a moment, but he said nothing, falling into step beside them as they headed to their next class. Soya¡¯s thoughts, however, remained on Marilla¡¯s words and the unsettling feeling they left behind.


    The trio made their way through the winding corridors of Austramore, the morning sunlight filtering through the enchanted windows casting dappled patterns on the stone walls. The chatter of students filled the air as they headed toward their Magical Beasts class, though Soya couldn¡¯t shake the strange feeling left by his earlier conversation with Professor Marilla.


    Davonte nudged him lightly. ¡°You alright, mate? You¡¯ve been quiet since Defense.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Soya replied quickly, though his voice lacked conviction. ¡°Just thinking about the spell we learned. It was... a lot.¡±


    Draven raised an eyebrow, his journal tucked under his arm. ¡°It was certainly advanced for our level. Unusual to see such spells taught this early in the curriculum.¡±


    ¡°Everything feels unusual lately,¡± Soya muttered under his breath.


    As they entered the designated classroom for Magical Beasts, the usual open-air setting near the school¡¯s vast fields was notably absent. Instead, rows of desks were arranged neatly within the stone-walled room, with a large chalkboard at the front. The room felt sterile compared to the vibrant outdoor lessons Professor Byrah typically conducted.


    The substitute professor, a wiry man with thinning gray hair and round spectacles, stood at the front, shuffling through a stack of papers. His robes were plain and practical, marked with the sigil of Austramore, and he wore an expression of quiet nervousness.


    ¡°Find your seats, quickly now,¡± the substitute called, his voice quavering slightly but loud enough to command attention. ¡°We have much to cover.¡±


    The students murmured among themselves as they filed into their seats. Soya, Davonte, and Draven settled near the middle of the room, their curiosity piqued by the change in routine.


    The professor cleared his throat. ¡°Good morning, class. My name is Assistant Professor Lorrin, and I will be covering for Professor Byrah while she attends to pressing matters elsewhere. Today¡¯s lesson will focus on theoretical studies rather than practical application.¡±


    A few groans echoed through the room, particularly from the more hands-on students. Davonte leaned over to Soya, whispering, ¡°Guess we won¡¯t be wrestling with manticores today.¡±


    Lorrin clapped his hands, drawing their attention. ¡°Open your textbooks to Chapter Seven: ¡®The Anatomy of Magical Creatures and Their Unique Adaptations.¡¯ We¡¯ll be discussing the physiological structures that allow magical beasts to channel and store magic.¡±


    Soya flipped open his textbook, the crisp pages detailing diagrams of various creatures. His eyes scanned an illustration of a gryphon, its wings etched with shimmering veins of magical energy.


    Lorrin began pacing the room, his voice gaining confidence as he delved into the material. ¡°Magical creatures are fascinating not just for their behaviors but for the very essence of their biology. Take, for instance, the gryphon. Its ability to generate wind currents during flight isn¡¯t merely a result of its wingspan but also its innate connection to elemental magic, stored in specialized organs we call aerothysts.¡±


    Draven raised his hand, his expression thoughtful. ¡°Professor Lorrin, are aerothysts unique to gryphons, or do other creatures have similar organs for different elements?¡±


    ¡°An excellent question, Mr...?¡± Lorrin prompted.


    ¡°Draven,¡± he supplied.


    ¡°Mr. Draven. Aerothysts are indeed unique to gryphons, but similar structures exist in other magical creatures. Salamanders, for example, possess pyrocytes that allow them to channel fire. These adaptations are what make magical beasts so diverse and remarkable.¡±


    As Lorrin continued, Davonte leaned closer to Soya, his voice low. ¡°He¡¯s not half bad for a fill-in. Still, I¡¯d rather be out there with the creatures.¡±


    ¡°Me too,¡± Soya admitted, though he found the lesson intriguing. The intricacies of magical anatomy were a new perspective he hadn¡¯t considered before.


    Lorrin paused at the chalkboard, sketching a simplified diagram of a niffler¡¯s sensory system. ¡°Now, the niffler¡¯s ability to locate precious metals is tied to an organ located just above its nasal cavity. This organ acts as a natural divination tool, attuned to the faint magical signatures that metals emit.¡±


    Soya scribbled notes quickly, fascinated by the detailed explanation. Despite the lack of hands-on interaction, the lesson held his attention.


    ¡°Now,¡± Lorrin said, turning back to the class, ¡°let¡¯s see how much you¡¯ve retained. Can anyone tell me why the phoenix¡¯s tears have such potent healing properties?¡±


    Several hands shot up, but Lorrin called on a first-year girl near the front. ¡°Because their magic is tied to rebirth?¡± she answered tentatively.


    ¡°Precisely,¡± Lorrin said with a nod. ¡°The phoenix¡¯s regenerative magic isn¡¯t limited to itself but extends to those it chooses to aid. Its tears are imbued with the essence of renewal, making them one of the most powerful natural remedies in existence.¡±


    The lesson continued with more questions and discussions, the students slowly warming up to Lorrin¡¯s teaching style. By the time the class ended, Soya had filled several pages of his notebook with notes and diagrams.


    As the students packed up their things, Lorrin offered a small, nervous smile. ¡°Thank you for your attention today. I hope you found the lesson insightful. Professor Byrah will be proud to see how well you¡¯ve all done in her absence.¡±


    Davonte stretched as they left the classroom, groaning slightly. ¡°That wasn¡¯t as bad as I thought, but I still prefer the real deal. You know, something that can bite back.¡±


    Draven smirked. ¡°Not all lessons require physical peril to be valuable.¡±


    Soya chuckled, feeling a little lighter after the class. ¡°At least we learned something new. And who knows? It might come in handy someday.¡±


    The trio headed toward their next destination, the buzz of the class still lingering as they discussed what they¡¯d learned. Though the day was far from over, it felt like they were finally finding a semblance of normalcy.


    The Thylacea common room was bathed in the warm glow of the fireplace, the soft crackle of flames filling the space as students lounged on armchairs and sofas. Soya sat cross-legged on the floor near the hearth, Inkwell curled up in his lap, purring softly as he absentmindedly stroked her fur. Davonte was sprawled across a nearby couch, tossing an enchanted ball into the air and catching it repeatedly, while Draven sat in a high-backed chair, his ever-present journal balanced on his knee.


    ¡°Well,¡± Davonte said, breaking the comfortable silence, ¡°that substitute for Magical Beasts wasn¡¯t half bad. Still miss Byrah, though. She¡¯d have had us riding hippogriffs or something by now.¡±


    Soya chuckled. ¡°Yeah, it felt weird being stuck inside for that class. But it was interesting to learn about the anatomy of magical creatures. I didn¡¯t even know about aerothysts before today.¡±


    ¡°Lorrin has his merits,¡± Draven said without looking up from his journal. ¡°Though I doubt his lessons will stick with most students. Practical application tends to reinforce learning far better than theory alone.¡±


    Davonte snorted. ¡°Look at you, Mr. Study Tips. You could teach a class yourself with that attitude.¡±


    Draven raised an eyebrow, his tone as dry as ever. ¡°And subject myself to the chaos of student incompetence? No, thank you.¡±


    Soya laughed, the lighthearted banter easing the lingering tension from the day. ¡°Well, at least Defense Against the Dark Arts was... interesting.¡±


    Davonte rolled his eyes. ¡°Interesting¡¯s one word for it. Marilla¡¯s always been tough, but today she was extra sharp. Except with you, of course.¡±


    Soya shifted uncomfortably, scratching behind Inkwell¡¯s ears. ¡°Yeah, I noticed that too. She was... different.¡±


    ¡°You think she¡¯s softening up on you?¡± Davonte teased, a sly grin spreading across his face.


    Soya shook his head quickly. ¡°No, it wasn¡¯t that. It felt... off, like she was acting differently than usual.¡±


    Draven finally glanced up, his piercing gaze meeting Soya¡¯s. ¡°Different how?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± Soya admitted, his brow furrowing. ¡°Just little things. The way she spoke, how she looked at me. It was like¡ª¡± He stopped himself, unsure how to explain it.


    Davonte leaned back, tossing the ball into the air again. ¡°Maybe you¡¯re just her favorite. Can¡¯t blame her¡ªwho doesn¡¯t love the muggle-born with the kitten?¡±


    Soya¡¯s cheeks reddened slightly, and he ducked his head. ¡°It¡¯s not that.¡±


    Draven tapped his quill against the edge of his journal. ¡°Regardless, it would be wise to keep an eye on her. Any deviation in behavior from a professor during times like these is worth noting.¡±


    The conversation drifted to lighter topics as the evening wore on. The common room slowly emptied as students retired for the night, leaving only a handful of figures scattered around the room. Soya yawned, gently scooping up Inkwell and setting her in the small basket by his bed.


    Far across the castle, in a dimly lit conference chamber, the professors of Austramore gathered around an enchanted table. Headmaster Spellchecker stood at the head, his presence commanding even in the subdued light. The room buzzed with quiet tension, the weight of recent events pressing heavily on the staff.


    ¡°Thank you all for coming,¡± Spellchecker began, his voice calm but firm. ¡°I¡¯ll keep this brief, as I know you all have much to attend to.¡±


    Professor Greenbark, her robes pristine despite the long day, folded her hands on the table. ¡°What¡¯s the status of the wards? Are they holding steady?¡±


    ¡°They are,¡± Spellchecker confirmed. ¡°Seikan Blackthorn¡¯s efforts have been instrumental in reinforcing the school¡¯s defenses. The beast that breached the Bunjil common room has been subdued, and the runes it bore have been neutralized.¡±


    A murmur of relief rippled through the room, though it was tempered by the knowledge that the situation was far from resolved.


    Professor Wickham leaned forward, her sharp eyes scanning the headmaster. ¡°And the students? Are they safe now?¡±


    ¡°For the time being,¡± Spellchecker said. ¡°The lockdown has been lifted, and classes have resumed to restore a sense of normalcy. But make no mistake¡ªthis is a temporary reprieve. We cannot allow ourselves to grow complacent.¡±


    Professor Marilla, seated near the end of the table, nodded thoughtfully. ¡°What of the individuals responsible for these events? Have we identified them?¡±


    Spellchecker¡¯s gaze darkened. ¡°We have... suspicions. But until we have concrete evidence, I won¡¯t make any accusations. Rest assured, those responsible will face the consequences of their actions.¡±


    Seikan Blackthorn, seated quietly to the side, finally spoke. ¡°The runes on the beast¡¯s horns were advanced. Whoever crafted them is highly skilled and well-versed in ancient magic. This isn¡¯t the work of amateurs.¡±


    ¡°And what of the Ministry?¡± Professor Lorrin asked hesitantly. ¡°Are they aware of the full extent of what¡¯s happening?¡±


    Spellchecker shook his head. ¡°They know what they need to. Involving them further at this stage would only complicate matters. Austramore is our responsibility, and we will see this through.¡±


    The room fell silent, the weight of the headmaster¡¯s words settling over the professors. After a moment, Spellchecker straightened, his sharp gaze sweeping across the room.


    ¡°Stay vigilant,¡± he said, his voice low but resolute. ¡°We may have won this battle, but the war is far from over. Dismissed.¡±


    The professors rose, their expressions grim but determined as they filed out of the chamber. Marilla lingered for a moment, her gaze trailing after the headmaster before she too exited, her steps measured and deliberate.


    Spellchecker remained alone, his hands resting on the edge of the table as he stared at the flickering runes etched into its surface. The room was silent, save for the faint hum of magic in the air.

 Chapter 31: Practice

    The sun hung lazily in the sky, casting a warm glow over Austramore¡¯s sprawling grounds. The courtyard was alive with the chatter of students enjoying their weekend, but Soya wasn¡¯t interested in joining them. Instead, he carefully slipped past the bustling groups, heading toward the quieter alcove just beyond the main courtyard¡ªa little pocket of peace where most students rarely ventured.


    Inkwell, his tiny calico tabby kitten, perched happily on his shoulder, her tail swishing rhythmically as they moved. Soya¡¯s sketchbook was tucked under one arm, his pencils clinking softly in the tin he carried.


    Reaching the alcove, Soya exhaled in relief. It was as secluded as he¡¯d hoped, the only sounds the rustling of leaves and the distant hum of students in the courtyard. A bench sat under an old willow tree, its branches forming a natural canopy, and he made his way toward it. Inkwell hopped down and began batting at a stray leaf, her little paws flailing adorably.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Soya muttered to himself, setting his things on the bench. ¡°Let¡¯s see if I can figure out... whatever this is.¡±


    He flipped open his sketchbook to a blank page, his fingers tightening around his pencil. His heart raced a little¡ªhe wasn¡¯t even sure what he was trying to accomplish. Marilla¡¯s strange questions had stuck with him, though. Why had she seemed so curious about his drawings? Why had she looked at him like she knew something he didn¡¯t?


    ¡°Okay, just... draw something simple,¡± he said, mostly to steady his own nerves.


    His pencil touched the page, and he began sketching a tree¡ªa simple, crooked tree with gnarled branches. The strokes were loose, the kind of doodle he could¡¯ve done in his sleep. When he finished, he stared at the drawing, waiting.


    Nothing happened.


    ¡°Great,¡± he muttered, leaning back against the bench. ¡°Maybe I¡¯m just going crazy.¡±


    Inkwell meowed from the ground, pawing at his shoe. Soya smiled faintly, reaching down to scratch her head. ¡°What do you think, Inkwell? Am I imagining things?¡±


    The kitten purred in response, entirely unhelpful.


    Sighing, Soya turned back to the sketchbook. He stared at the tree, squinting like that might somehow make it come alive. ¡°Okay, maybe... maybe I need to focus more.¡±


    He leaned forward, his hand brushing over the page as he tried to picture the tree in his mind¡ªnot just as a drawing, but as something real. He imagined the bark rough beneath his fingers, the leaves rustling in a gentle breeze, the roots stretching deep into the earth.


    The pencil marks on the page shimmered faintly.


    Soya froze. ¡°Wait, was that¡ª?¡±


    Before he could finish the thought, the drawing moved.


    The tree on the page shifted, its branches swaying as though caught in a wind. One of the roots curled upward, brushing against the edge of the paper. Soya¡¯s heart leapt into his throat.


    ¡°Okay, okay,¡± he whispered, both exhilarated and terrified. ¡°That¡¯s new.¡±


    Inkwell, meanwhile, had climbed onto the bench and was now pawing at the moving sketch. The kitten¡¯s tiny claws caught the edge of the page, and with a sharp tug, she tore it clean out of the sketchbook.


    ¡°Inkwell!¡± Soya yelped, scrambling to grab the paper.


    But before he could, the drawn tree began to expand, its branches stretching upward as though trying to escape the confines of the paper. The root that had been curling near the edge suddenly shot out, snaking across the bench and tangling around Soya¡¯s wrist.


    ¡°Ah! No, no, no!¡± he shouted, shaking his hand wildly.


    Inkwell, clearly thinking this was the best game ever, leapt onto the paper, her little paws swiping at the moving branches. The tree recoiled slightly, but it didn¡¯t stop growing. By now, it had stretched to the size of a small sapling, its roots spilling over the bench and onto the ground.


    ¡°This is bad,¡± Soya muttered, grabbing his pencil like a weapon. ¡°Really bad.¡±


    He quickly tried to scribble over the tree, hoping to erase it, but the ink marks wouldn¡¯t budge. Instead, the tree seemed to shudder, almost as if it was annoyed, and one of its branches swatted his hand away.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Soya snapped, glaring at the sketch. ¡°I drew you¡ªyou don¡¯t get to hit me!¡±


    Inkwell, undeterred by the chaos, climbed onto the sapling¡¯s trunk, her tail flicking as she swatted at the leaves. Soya groaned, running a hand through his hair. ¡°Inkwell, get down from there!¡±


    The kitten ignored him, letting out an excited chirp as she batted at a particularly wiggly branch.


    ¡°Fine, you win,¡± Soya grumbled, pulling out his wand. ¡°Let¡¯s see if this works.¡±


    He pointed the wand at the paper tree and muttered, ¡°Finite Incantatem.¡±


    The tree froze mid-sway, its branches halting their movement. Slowly, it began to shrink, retreating back into the paper until it was once again a simple sketch.


    Soya collapsed onto the bench, his heart racing. ¡°Okay. That... was a disaster.¡±


    Inkwell meowed, hopping back onto his lap as if to say, ¡°What¡¯s next?¡±


    Soya stared at the sketchbook, his fingers trembling slightly. He still didn¡¯t understand what had just happened, but one thing was clear¡ªthis wasn¡¯t normal magic. Whatever his drawings were doing, it was something entirely different.


    And he had no idea how to control it.


    ¡°Well,¡± he muttered, stroking Inkwell¡¯s fur as the kitten purred happily. ¡°At least you had fun.¡±


    The courtyard buzzed with an unusual energy as Soya approached, still shaken from his earlier encounter with his animated drawing. The warm sun bathed the stone pathways, and laughter and cheers echoed off the walls. A small crowd had gathered near the central fountain, their attention focused on a makeshift stage where several students appeared to be dueling.


    At the center of it all stood Professor Marilla, her sharp figure commanding the space as she gestured animatedly toward the dueling students. Her robes billowed faintly in the breeze, and her normally reserved demeanor seemed oddly... enthusiastic. She clapped once as one of the students landed a disarming charm, her voice ringing out.


    ¡°Well done, Mr. Hawkins! Keep your focus steady next time, and you may just win the next round!¡±


    Soya blinked, momentarily taken aback. A dueling contest? Outside of class? It wasn¡¯t unheard of, but it was definitely strange, especially given how strict Marilla normally was about maintaining structure.


    ¡°Oi, Soya!¡± Davonte¡¯s voice cut through the crowd.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Soya spotted him near the edge of the fountain, waving him over. Saunak and Draven were with him, along with a few other familiar faces, including Manaya Moon, who was watching the duels with her usual unflappable confidence.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Soya asked as he joined them, Inkwell perched lazily on his shoulder.


    ¡°Dueling contest,¡± Davonte replied, grinning. ¡°Apparently, Professor Marilla thought it¡¯d be fun to organize something ¡®informal.¡¯¡± He made air quotes with his fingers. ¡°I mean, who are we to complain? No classes and we get to blow stuff up? Sign me up.¡±


    Soya frowned slightly, glancing toward Marilla. Something about the whole setup felt... off. But before he could dwell on it, Manaya turned to him, her sharp eyes gleaming.


    ¡°You should join,¡± she said, her tone more of a command than a suggestion. ¡°You¡¯re good under pressure, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Uh, not really,¡± Soya said, shifting awkwardly. ¡°I¡¯m not exactly a dueling expert.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the point,¡± Saunak added with a smirk. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to learn. Besides, it¡¯s all in good fun. Unless you¡¯re scared, of course.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not scared,¡± Soya muttered, though the idea of dueling in front of a crowd made his stomach twist.


    Draven adjusted his glasses, his tone matter-of-fact. ¡°Participation would provide an opportunity to test your reflexes and spellwork under realistic conditions. You might discover strengths you didn¡¯t know you had.¡±


    ¡°Or get completely embarrassed,¡± Soya mumbled, earning a laugh from Davonte.


    Before he could protest further, Marilla¡¯s voice rang out. ¡°Ah, Mr. Vareen! How wonderful of you to join us.¡±


    Soya froze as her piercing gaze landed on him. The soft smile she gave him was disarming¡ªfar more pleasant than her usual sharp, no-nonsense expressions. It sent a small chill down his spine.


    ¡°We could use another competitor,¡± Marilla continued, gesturing for him to step forward. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll do wonderfully.¡±


    The crowd¡¯s attention shifted to him, and Soya felt his face heat up. ¡°Oh, um, I don¡¯t think¡ª¡±


    ¡°Nonsense,¡± Marilla cut him off, her smile widening ever so slightly. ¡°Everyone starts somewhere. Come along.¡±


    Soya glanced at Davonte, who gave him an exaggerated thumbs-up, and Saunak, who was clearly enjoying his discomfort. Even Inkwell seemed to be giving him an expectant look from her perch on his shoulder.


    With a resigned sigh, Soya stepped forward. The crowd parted slightly to let him through, and he found himself standing on the makeshift stage. His heart pounded as Marilla handed him a practice wand¡ªthe kind used for training duels that delivered mild shocks instead of actual harm.


    ¡°Your opponent will be Mr. Tanis,¡± Marilla announced, motioning to a lanky fifth-year boy with a cocky grin. ¡°A seasoned duelist, but I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll hold your own.¡±


    Soya¡¯s stomach flipped. Seasoned duelist? He was barely past basic defense spells!


    Tanis gave him a mock bow, his grin widening. ¡°Ready to lose, first year?¡±


    Soya swallowed hard, gripping the practice wand tighter. The crowd¡¯s murmurs seemed deafening, and he could feel his palms growing sweaty.


    Marilla stepped back, her voice cutting through the noise. ¡°On my count. Three... two... one... duel!¡±


    Tanis moved first, firing a simple knockback jinx. Soya yelped, barely dodging as the spell zipped past his ear. He stumbled, nearly dropping his wand, and the crowd laughed.


    ¡°Keep your footing, Mr. Vareen!¡± Marilla called, her tone oddly encouraging. ¡°You¡¯ll do fine.¡±


    Soya clenched his teeth, his embarrassment fueling a spark of determination. He raised his wand, muttering, ¡°Expelliarmus!¡±


    The spell was clumsy but effective enough to send Tanis¡¯s wand flying a few feet. The older boy recovered quickly, though, summoning his wand back with a flick and launching another spell in quick succession.


    ¡°Protego!¡± Soya managed to cast a shield charm, though it wobbled slightly under the force of Tanis¡¯s spell.


    The duel continued, with Soya barely keeping up. He was outmatched in experience, but his quick reflexes and sheer stubbornness helped him hold his ground. The crowd¡¯s laughter shifted to murmurs of surprise as he dodged and countered with surprising agility.


    Marilla¡¯s eyes never left him, her expression unreadable. When Soya managed to land a weak but well-aimed stinging hex on Tanis, her lips curled into a faint smile.


    ¡°Impressive,¡± she murmured, almost too softly for anyone to hear.


    The duel ended with Tanis narrowly winning, but the applause for Soya was genuine. As he stepped off the stage, his legs trembling, Davonte clapped him on the back.


    ¡°Not bad, mate,¡± Davonte said, grinning. ¡°You actually made him sweat a little.¡±


    Soya managed a weak smile, though his mind was still racing. Marilla¡¯s behavior during the duel stuck with him¡ªthe way she¡¯d watched him so intently, her demeanor so unlike her usual self.


    As the crowd began to disperse, the energy from the dueling contest still lingered in the air. Soya slumped onto a nearby bench, his heart pounding and his arms feeling like jelly. Inkwell, who had jumped off his shoulder earlier, hopped onto his lap and let out an approving little "mew." He scratched her behind the ears absentmindedly, trying to process what had just happened.


    ¡°That was insane!¡± Davonte exclaimed, practically bouncing as he sat beside Soya. ¡°Mate, I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen a first year hold their own like that. You had Tanis sweating.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think ¡®sweating¡¯ is the right word,¡± Soya muttered, his voice shaky. ¡°He was playing with me half the time.¡±


    ¡°Still,¡± Saunak chimed in as he approached with a sly grin, ¡°you didn¡¯t look like a complete idiot. That¡¯s a win in my book.¡±


    Soya gave him a tired glare, but before he could respond, a group of students gathered nearby began murmuring.


    ¡°Did you see how quick he was with that shield charm?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, and that stinging hex? I don¡¯t even think I could pull that off under pressure.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a first year, though, right? That¡¯s insane.¡±


    The quiet compliments sent a flush of heat to Soya¡¯s cheeks. He tried to focus on petting Inkwell, but the attention was hard to ignore.


    Draven stepped forward, his expression as calm and composed as ever, though there was a faint glimmer of approval in his eyes. ¡°You showed adaptability under pressure. That¡¯s a rare skill for someone your age.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, I guess,¡± Soya mumbled, still unsure how to handle the praise.


    Manaya Moon joined the group, her sharp eyes appraising him. ¡°You did well,¡± she said simply, her tone neutral but carrying a weight that made the compliment feel significant. ¡°But don¡¯t let it get to your head. Tanis went easy on you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, trust me, I know,¡± Soya replied, looking down at his lap. ¡°I was just trying not to fall on my face.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t,¡± Manaya said with a small nod. ¡°And that¡¯s what matters.¡±


    ¡°Not bad for a Muggle-born,¡± someone muttered nearby. The words were quiet, but they carried enough weight to make Soya¡¯s stomach twist.


    Davonte¡¯s grin faltered, his cheerful demeanor shifting in an instant. ¡°Oi, who said that?¡±


    The group turned toward the source, but whoever had spoken had already melted into the crowd. The tension lingered, but Davonte clapped a hand on Soya¡¯s shoulder, his voice firm. ¡°Ignore them. They¡¯re just jealous.¡±


    Soya forced a smile, though his chest felt tight. The reminder of his status as a Muggle-born always seemed to creep in, no matter what he did.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± Saunak said, breaking the awkward silence, ¡°you might¡¯ve lost, but you put on a better show than half the people here. That¡¯s gotta count for something.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, like not being humiliated in front of the whole school,¡± Davonte added with a laugh.


    Soya chuckled weakly, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Marilla¡¯s strange behavior during the duel, the way she¡¯d looked at him¡ªnone of it made sense. And now, with everyone talking about his performance, he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that he¡¯d drawn more attention to himself than he wanted.


    ¡°Thanks, guys,¡± he said finally, standing up and cradling Inkwell in his arms. ¡°I think I need some air.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t let it get to you,¡± Davonte called after him. ¡°You did great, mate!¡±


    Soya nodded but didn¡¯t look back as he made his way toward the quieter edges of the courtyard. The murmurs of the other students faded behind him, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the soft purring of Inkwell in his arms.


    The group lingered near the dueling platform, the air still charged with energy from the earlier contest. Manaya stood with her arms crossed, her sharp eyes fixed on the direction Soya had disappeared. Saunak leaned against a stone pillar, idly flipping his wand in his hand, while Davonte paced back and forth, his usual grin replaced by a thoughtful frown. Draven sat on a nearby bench, his journal open but untouched.


    ¡°That kid¡¯s a mystery,¡± Saunak said, breaking the silence. ¡°One minute, he¡¯s barely noticeable, and the next, he¡¯s standing toe-to-toe with a fifth year.¡±


    Davonte stopped pacing and nodded. ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s a quiet one, but when he steps up, he really steps up. Didn¡¯t think he had that in him.¡±


    Manaya shifted her weight, her gaze unwavering. ¡°It¡¯s not just his talent,¡± she said, her tone measured. ¡°It¡¯s the way he moves, the way he thinks. He¡¯s not like most first years. He¡¯s deliberate.¡±


    ¡°Deliberate or just lucky?¡± Saunak quipped, though there was no malice in his voice.


    ¡°Luck doesn¡¯t explain how he reacted during that duel,¡± Draven interjected, his calm voice cutting through the conversation. ¡°His spellwork is raw, yes, but it¡¯s instinctive. He doesn¡¯t rely on textbook techniques because he hasn¡¯t had the time to learn them. That makes him unpredictable¡ªand dangerous.¡±


    Davonte grinned, his usual energy returning. ¡°Dangerous? Come on, Draven, he¡¯s just a kid.¡±


    ¡°A kid who managed to land a stinging hex on Tanis while simultaneously deflecting a disarming charm,¡± Draven replied, arching a brow. ¡°That¡¯s not something you see every day, especially from someone with his background.¡±


    Manaya nodded, her expression thoughtful. ¡°He¡¯s Muggle-born. That alone puts him at a disadvantage, not just with magic but with understanding our world. Yet, he adapts. Quickly.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s gotta be tough,¡± Davonte said, his grin fading again. ¡°Growing up Muggle, then suddenly getting thrown into all of this. I mean, we¡¯ve all been doing this stuff since we were kids. He¡¯s playing catch-up.¡±


    Saunak smirked. ¡°He¡¯s doing more than catching up. He¡¯s making the rest of us look bad.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what¡¯s interesting,¡± Manaya said, her voice quieter now. ¡°He doesn¡¯t act like he knows how good he is. If anything, he seems... hesitant. Like he doesn¡¯t want the attention.¡±


    Draven closed his journal and set it aside. ¡°It¡¯s not surprising. From what I¡¯ve observed, Soya is highly introverted. He avoids crowds, speaks only when necessary, and seems most comfortable when he¡¯s alone or with a small group.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve noticed that too,¡± Davonte said, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Even with us, he doesn¡¯t really open up much. I mean, he¡¯s friendly and all, but he keeps a lot to himself.¡±


    Manaya glanced at him. ¡°Think about his background. If he was always different growing up¡ªbeing a Muggle-born with no idea about magic¡ªit would¡¯ve set him apart. People probably treated him differently. Maybe that¡¯s why he¡¯s so reserved.¡±


    Saunak shrugged. ¡°Makes sense, I guess. If you¡¯re used to being the odd one out, you learn to keep your head down.¡±


    Davonte frowned. ¡°That sucks, though. He shouldn¡¯t feel like he has to hide.¡±


    ¡°No, he shouldn¡¯t,¡± Manaya agreed. ¡°But that¡¯s the reality for a lot of Muggle-borns, especially in schools like this.¡±


    Draven tapped his fingers on the bench, his expression pensive. ¡°It¡¯s also possible that his reluctance stems from something deeper. He¡¯s not just talented¡ªhe¡¯s exceptional. And I don¡¯t think he fully understands it yet.¡±


    ¡°Exceptional?¡± Saunak raised an eyebrow. ¡°Bit of a stretch, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± Draven replied. ¡°Natural talent like his is rare, especially in someone so new to magic. It¡¯s as if he was... meant for this.¡±


    Davonte grinned again, though it was softer this time. ¡°Yeah, well, if he keeps this up, he¡¯s gonna be famous by the time he¡¯s a fifth year.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Manaya said, her tone cautious. ¡°But fame isn¡¯t always a good thing. Especially not for someone like Soya.¡±


    The group fell silent for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. The courtyard had grown quieter, the earlier crowd now dispersed, leaving only the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hum of conversations from the castle.


    ¡°Guess we¡¯ll just have to keep an eye on him,¡± Davonte said finally, his usual cheer returning. ¡°Make sure he doesn¡¯t get in over his head.¡±


    Manaya nodded, her sharp gaze softening slightly. ¡°Yeah. He might not realize it, but he¡¯s got people looking out for him now.¡±


    Draven stood, brushing off his robes. ¡°And that, I suspect, will make all the difference.¡±


    With that, the group began to disperse, each carrying a growing sense of curiosity¡ªand concern¡ªabout the quiet first year who seemed destined to leave a mark far greater than any of them could anticipate.

 Chapter 32: Different Views

    Sevrin and Sage walked in silence as the prefect led them down the long, winding corridors of Austramore. The atmosphere was subdued, the usual background chatter of students heading to class strangely absent. Perhaps it was the lingering weight of recent events, or perhaps it was the shift that had come with the lifting of the lockdown. Either way, the halls felt different.


    Neither boy spoke. Sage, ever the more composed of the two, kept his expression neutral, his mind still occupied with his father''s words from the night before. Sevrin, on the other hand, was brimming with frustration, but he knew better than to let it show. The prefect escorting them wouldn¡¯t hesitate to report any sign of defiance, and right now, they couldn¡¯t afford unnecessary attention.


    Their destination was Defense Against the Dark Arts, a class both boys usually relished. But today, as they stepped into the classroom, Sevrin felt something was off. The moment they entered, his sharp green eyes flickered toward Professor Marilla, who stood at the front of the room.


    She was waiting, arms crossed, her usual presence as rigid and commanding as ever. Yet¡­ something was different.


    Sevrin had always prided himself on his ability to read people. It was a skill that set him apart, a skill that made him dangerous when he chose to be. And right now, something about Marilla¡¯s demeanor wasn¡¯t right.


    At first glance, she looked as she always did¡ªtall, confident, her dark robes perfectly in place. But when she moved to close the classroom door behind them, there was something almost¡­ calculated about it. Too deliberate. Too smooth.


    Sevrin took his seat beside Sage, his fingers drumming against the desk as he watched her. His eyes narrowed.


    Marilla¡¯s posture was rigid as she began the lesson, her voice clipped and precise. She was harsher than usual, quick to snap at students who hesitated with their spellwork, her usual patience absent. Yet¡ªSevrin noted with keen interest¡ªher tone shifted whenever she addressed Soya Vareen.


    It wasn¡¯t the sharp reprimand she gave the others. Instead, it softened ever so slightly, just enough for Sevrin to notice. A warmth that shouldn¡¯t have been there. And that was the moment it clicked.


    This wasn¡¯t Marilla.


    His fingers tightened around the edge of the desk as he forced his expression to remain neutral.


    Salsiar.


    Sevrin didn¡¯t need to confirm it aloud. He had spent enough time around Salsiar to recognize his influence. It was subtle, masterful even, but Sevrin was no fool. Salsiar was here, hidden in plain sight, walking among them in the guise of a trusted professor.


    Sevrin stole a glance at Sage, but his friend didn¡¯t seem to notice¡ªor if he did, he wasn¡¯t reacting. That was fine. Sevrin wasn¡¯t about to say anything either.


    Salsiar had always been someone Sevrin admired, even feared. He was power incarnate, someone who demanded respect with every word, every movement. If he had taken control of Marilla, there had to be a reason.


    Still, that reason didn¡¯t matter to Sevrin. What mattered was knowing when to stay quiet.


    The lesson continued, and Sevrin forced himself to participate as normal. He practiced the spells when prompted, answered when called upon, and made sure not to act out of the ordinary. His mind, however, was racing.


    Why was Salsiar here? What was he looking for?


    And why, above all else, was he so interested in Soya Vareen?


    Sevrin knew better than to ask. Whatever was happening, it was far bigger than him. Far bigger than Sage.


    And that meant only one thing.


    He would watch.


    And he would wait.


    Sevrin lounged against one of the stone pillars in the courtyard, arms crossed, his sharp gaze sweeping across the crowd of students that had gathered. Sage stood beside him, looking disinterested as always, but Sevrin knew better. Sage was paying attention¡ªhe always was.


    The so-called "dueling contest" had drawn quite a crowd, and that alone put Sevrin on edge. This wasn¡¯t something Professor Marilla¡ªor rather, Salsiar¡ªwould usually encourage. Encouraging reckless displays of skill outside of class? It didn¡¯t add up.


    But then Soya Vareen had been called up.


    And suddenly, everything made sense.


    Sevrin straightened slightly, his keen green eyes narrowing as Soya stepped forward. A first-year, facing off against a fifth-year. It was absurd on the surface, but the moment the duel began, Sevrin saw it.


    The boy was good. Too good.


    Soya lacked the polish of older duelists, but his instincts were sharp¡ªdangerously so. His movements were reactive, unpredictable, like someone who had never been formally trained but had an innate understanding of how to adapt under pressure.


    Sevrin¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line.


    Salsiar wasn¡¯t just watching. He was testing.


    Every move, every spell, every moment of hesitation¡ªSalsiar was studying the boy. And now that Sevrin was seeing it for himself, it was clear why.


    Soya wasn¡¯t just talented.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    He was exceptional.


    The duel was fast-paced, the fifth-year throwing spell after spell at Soya, but the first-year held his own. Every time it seemed like he would falter, he recovered. Every time he was pushed back, he adjusted. His defenses were improvised, rough around the edges, but they worked.


    Sevrin exhaled slowly.


    This was why Salsiar had been so oddly gentle with him. Why "Marilla" had softened her tone, treated Soya with uncharacteristic kindness while the other students were met with cold detachment.


    Salsiar wanted him.


    Not as a student.


    As an asset.


    Sevrin had seen it before. Powerful people always wanted to mold talent, to shape it into something they could use. And Salsiar, being what he was, would see Soya as a rare opportunity.


    Something he could turn into a weapon.


    Sevrin¡¯s fingers curled into a fist at his side.


    Sage hadn¡¯t seemed to notice, still watching the duel with his usual unreadable expression. That was fine. Sevrin wasn¡¯t about to spell it out for him.


    He watched as the fifth-year finally got the upper hand, Soya faltering just enough for the duel to end. The crowd erupted in murmurs, some impressed, some stunned that a first-year had even lasted that long.


    Sevrin didn¡¯t react.


    His mind was already elsewhere.


    Salsiar had set all of this up. This wasn¡¯t just about amusement or training. It was about studying Soya, about figuring out what made him tick.


    And now, Sevrin knew exactly where this was heading.


    Salsiar wasn¡¯t going to stop at observing.


    Soon, he would make his move.


    And when he did, Sevrin wasn¡¯t sure if Soya would even realize what was happening until it was too late.


    Soya sat at his desk, absentmindedly spinning his quill between his fingers as he stared at the board at the front of the classroom. Professor Wirruna, an older woman with long silver-streaked hair tied back in a loose braid, stood in front of the class with her usual composed air, chalk hovering in the air as she carefully drew a series of intricate symbols.


    "Now, who can tell me the fundamental principle that separates runic magic from standard spellcasting?" Her voice was calm, but carried the quiet authority of someone who expected answers.


    Several hands went up. Soya, as usual, did not raise his.


    "Manaya," Wirruna called.


    "The difference is in permanence," Manaya answered confidently. "Regular spells are temporary¡ªcharms, transfigurations, hexes¡ªthey all fade with time or can be undone. Runic magic, when carved correctly, can last for centuries."


    "Good," Wirruna said, giving an approving nod. "But there¡¯s more to it than that. Rune magic doesn¡¯t simply persist¡ªit interacts with its environment in ways conventional magic cannot. A rune is not just a spell written down; it is a language woven into reality itself. And because of that, it requires precise understanding."


    She turned back to the board, tapping one of the symbols she had drawn. "Can anyone tell me what this rune represents?"


    Soya squinted. The rune was vaguely familiar, but he had no idea what it meant. Before he could even consider guessing, Draven spoke.


    "That¡¯s Fehu," Draven said. "It represents wealth and prosperity in traditional runic scripts, but in magical application, it¡¯s often used for energy flow and amplification."


    "Excellent," Wirruna said. "This rune is often misunderstood because of its association with wealth. But in magical construction, it is one of the core runes for creating circuits of power. Properly inscribed, Fehu can increase the efficiency of any magical construct by stabilizing its energy flow."


    She waved her wand, and another rune appeared beside it. This one was different, its lines jagged and sharp.


    "And this one?" she asked.


    Soya stared at it, and for some reason, his fingers twitched. He didn¡¯t recognize it exactly, but something about it felt... familiar. Almost like the runes he had seen in his own strange drawings.


    Sage, sitting a few rows back, went stiff at the sight of it.


    "Thurisaz," Sage finally said. "It represents conflict. Power through hardship. It¡¯s often used in barriers, but it¡¯s also a war rune. It can be dangerous if used carelessly."


    "Correct," Wirruna confirmed, and if she noticed Sage¡¯s sudden tenseness, she didn¡¯t comment on it. "Thurisaz is volatile. Many old battle runes were built upon its foundation, but its instability makes it difficult to use in more delicate enchantments. That is why it is often layered rather than used on its own."


    She flicked her wand again, and more symbols appeared, forming a larger runic sequence.


    "This," she said, "is a simple runic ward designed to deter magical interference. It is an example of how multiple runes must be combined to form a functional whole. A single rune is rarely enough on its own. They must work together, balancing strengths and weaknesses."


    Soya frowned slightly, his mind drifting to the runes he had seen before. He thought of the strange symbols carved into the horns of the beast that had broken into the school. Were they using similar principles?


    His hand moved to his notebook, and before he even fully processed it, he had started sketching. His ink swirled as he copied Wirruna¡¯s sequence, but before he could stop himself, his mind began altering it¡ªshifting the shapes, modifying the placement.


    His fingers tingled.


    He blinked down at the page, realizing he had drawn something entirely different. It wasn¡¯t Wirruna¡¯s ward anymore. It was something else. Something that felt old.


    He quickly covered the page with his sleeve before anyone noticed.


    "Today, you will all be practicing inscription," Wirruna continued. "Each of you will receive a slate. You will carve a basic protection rune and test its stability. This is a delicate process. If the strokes are too uneven, the rune will not activate properly. If they are too forceful, it may crack the slate."


    With a flick of her wand, small stone tablets floated down onto each student¡¯s desk.


    Soya hesitated.


    He had never carved a rune before. He barely understood them. But as he picked up his etching tool, he felt something in the back of his mind¡ªa pull, like something guiding his hand.


    As the class set to work, he let the instinct take over.


    Soya pressed the tip of the etching tool against the slate, his fingers steady but uncertain. Around him, the classroom was filled with the soft scratching of stone on stone as students carefully traced the protective rune Professor Wirruna had demonstrated.


    He glanced at Draven¡¯s slate. His rune was clean, precise, each line perfectly carved. Manaya¡¯s was similarly neat, though slightly deeper in the stone. Soya frowned at his own, feeling an odd pressure settle in his chest.


    He knew he could copy the rune exactly, just as he had done with sketches before. But something told him that wasn¡¯t the right way. His fingers twitched, and before he could stop himself, his lines curved just slightly, shifting the pattern. The original form was still there, but altered, as if instinct had taken over his hand.


    A quiet hum filled his ears.


    The slate in his hands pulsed.


    He barely had a moment to register it before the rune glowed faintly and a gust of air rippled outward, knocking his inkwell off the table. It wasn¡¯t violent, but it was enough to draw attention.


    Wirruna¡¯s sharp eyes snapped to him.


    Soya quickly flattened his hands over the slate, but he knew it was too late. The professor approached, and when she reached his desk, she didn¡¯t scold him¡ªinstead, she simply held out a hand.


    "Show me," she said.


    Soya hesitated but slowly lifted his hands, revealing the altered rune. It was still glowing faintly, the carved edges smooth but deeper than intended.


    Wirruna studied it for a long moment.


    "This isn¡¯t the rune I instructed," she finally said, her tone unreadable.


    Soya swallowed. "I¡ª I just¡ª I don¡¯t know what happened. I was just trying to copy it."


    Wirruna traced a finger over the lines. The glow flickered under her touch.


    "This sequence is older than the standard protection rune," she murmured, mostly to herself. "A deviation, but not incorrect. It functions. Unexpected, but functional."


    Soya had no idea what that meant.


    Wirruna finally looked up at him. "Did you read about this variation somewhere?"


    "No," Soya admitted. "It just¡­ came to me."


    Wirruna¡¯s expression remained neutral, but something behind her eyes sharpened.


    "Continue practicing," she said after a moment, before moving on to check the other students¡¯ work.


    Soya exhaled, his fingers still tingling against the stone. He didn¡¯t know what he had just done. But the way Wirruna had looked at him told him that whatever it was, it wasn¡¯t normal.

 Chapter 33: Runes and Whispers

    Professor Tanami Wirruna strode through the dimly lit corridors of Austramore, her sharp eyes scanning the flickering torchlight ahead. She was not one to seek out the assistance of others lightly, let alone Seikan Blackthorn. The man was brilliant, undeniably, but his arrogance and cold demeanor had always put her off. Still, there were some things that even she had to admit required his particular expertise.


    And what she had seen in her class today was impossible.


    She held the rune tightly in her grip, her fingers curling around its edges as if she feared it might disappear. The rune that Soya Vareen had created was not a modern interpretation, nor was it a crude approximation. It was ancient¡ªfar older than anything taught at Austramore. Even older than the runic systems used by the most accomplished scholars.


    It should not exist.


    Yet, there it was, drawn by a Muggle-born first-year student who, by all accounts, should have no knowledge of runes beyond the elementary scripts she had introduced in her lessons.


    The heavy oak door to Seikan¡¯s office loomed ahead, its edges lined with faintly glowing runes that only someone trained in the craft would notice. Wirruna exhaled sharply through her nose. As much as she hated to admit it, she needed his input.


    Lifting her hand, she rapped twice on the door.


    There was a pause, then a low voice from within. ¡°Enter.¡±


    She pushed the door open and stepped inside. The office was as cluttered as ever¡ªshelves overflowing with ancient tomes, loose parchment covered in diagrams, and vials of dark, swirling liquids that she had long since decided she would rather not ask about. Seikan himself sat behind his desk, his long fingers tapping idly against the wood, his emerald-green eyes meeting hers with mild curiosity.


    ¡°To what do I owe the pleasure, Wirruna?¡± he drawled, leaning back in his chair.


    Wirruna stepped forward, placing the rune on his desk without preamble. ¡°This was drawn by a student in my class today. I need your thoughts.¡±


    Seikan raised an eyebrow but pulled the rune closer, his gaze flicking over the inked lines. The moment he registered what he was looking at, his casual demeanor shifted. His fingers stopped tapping. His eyes sharpened, and for a brief second, genuine surprise flashed across his face.


    That, in itself, was telling.


    Seikan was not easily surprised.


    He straightened in his chair, lifting the rune to examine it more closely. ¡°This¡­ is not a modern rune,¡± he murmured. ¡°This is¡­ I would have assumed this was a forgery, but the structure¡ª¡± He stopped, exhaling slowly. ¡°This is ancient. A true ancient rune.¡±


    Wirruna folded her arms. ¡°Yes. And it was drawn by a first-year.¡±


    Seikan¡¯s gaze flicked up to meet hers, sharp and unreadable. ¡°Who?¡±


    She hesitated, then answered, ¡°Soya Vareen.¡±


    A beat of silence passed.


    Seikan leaned back, his fingers steepled in front of him. ¡°Vareen. The Muggle-born.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    He stared at the rune again, his expression unreadable, but Wirruna could see the gears turning in his mind. Seikan Blackthorn was one of the foremost experts in runic magic. He had studied every recorded system, had even developed his own variation when the old methods proved inadequate. And yet, here was something that defied all of it. Something older. Something real.


    ¡°This is impossible,¡± Seikan murmured, but there was something else in his tone¡ªsomething almost resembling intrigue.


    Wirruna sighed, shaking her head. ¡°And yet, here it is.¡±


    Seikan¡¯s fingers traced the edge of the rune. ¡°Do you think he understands what he¡¯s done?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Wirruna¡¯s answer was immediate. ¡°He didn¡¯t even recognize it as anything special. He was simply¡­ experimenting.¡±


    Seikan scoffed. ¡°Experimenting. With an ancient rune that predates recorded magical history. Of course.¡±


    Wirruna narrowed her eyes. ¡°I came to you because I need your expertise. Not your sarcasm.¡±


    He waved a hand dismissively. ¡°And what do you expect me to do with this information, Wirruna? Announce to the entire school that we have a Muggle-born child casually recreating magic that has been lost for centuries?¡±


    ¡°I expect you to help me figure out what this means,¡± she countered. ¡°And what to do about it.¡±


    Seikan was silent for a long moment. Then, finally, he exhaled, running his long fingers over the rune gently before placing it aside. ¡°I will need to observe him,¡± he said. ¡°If he can create one rune, he may be capable of more.¡±


    Wirruna nodded. ¡°That¡¯s what I was afraid of.¡±


    Seikan glanced at the rune again, his expression unreadable. Then, quietly, he murmured, ¡°What are you, Soya Vareen?¡±


    Neither of them had the answer.


    Not yet.


    But they would find out.


    Soya sat cross-legged on one of the plush chairs in the Thylacea common room, his sketchbook open on his lap. Inkwell, his tiny calico kitten, was curled up beside him, occasionally swiping at his quill when it moved too close. The fireplace crackled softly, filling the space with a warm glow, though the conversations around him were anything but calm.


    Davonte sat nearby, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, idly flicking his wand to make a quill hover just above the table. ¡°So,¡± he mused, ¡°classes are back, but the lockdown only just lifted. Doesn¡¯t that seem a little... rushed?¡±


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    Draven, who had been jotting something down in a small leather-bound notebook, barely looked up. ¡°The staff wouldn¡¯t have reinstated classes if they weren¡¯t confident in the castle¡¯s defenses.¡± He paused, then added dryly, ¡°Or they simply don¡¯t want students sitting around with too much free time to think about what¡¯s really happening.¡±


    Davonte snorted. ¡°That sounds more likely.¡±


    Soya didn¡¯t contribute much to the conversation, too busy absently shading the edges of his latest drawing¡ªa rough sketch of one of the strange runes he¡¯d been experimenting with in class. He wasn¡¯t even sure why he was drawing it again, but something about the lines felt... familiar. Almost natural.


    Before the conversation could continue, the door to the common room creaked open, and a prefect stepped inside. Their gaze immediately landed on Soya.


    ¡°Vareen,¡± they called, crossing the room toward him. ¡°Professor Blackthorn wants to see you. Now.¡±


    Soya¡¯s hand froze mid-stroke. The common room quieted slightly, a few students casting curious glances in his direction.


    Davonte blinked. ¡°Uh, why?¡±


    The prefect shrugged. ¡°Didn¡¯t say. Just that he needs to speak with him.¡±


    Draven finally looked up from his notes, his gray eyes studying Soya carefully. ¡°You should go.¡±


    Soya hesitated. Seikan Blackthorn was a name that carried weight at Austramore. The professor was notorious for his cold demeanor and terrifying intellect, and he had never spoken to Soya beyond the occasional glance in the halls.


    Still, refusing wasn¡¯t an option.


    Soya closed his sketchbook, slipping it into his bag before carefully scooping up Inkwell and placing the kitten in Davonte¡¯s lap. ¡°Watch her for me?¡±


    Davonte nodded, though he looked uneasy. ¡°Don¡¯t get cursed or anything.¡±


    Soya sighed, getting to his feet. ¡°Thanks for the vote of confidence.¡±


    The prefect turned, leading the way out of the common room, leaving the lingering whispers of curiosity behind them.


    Soya followed the prefect through the dimly lit corridors, his footsteps nearly silent against the stone floors. His mind raced with possibilities. He had barely interacted with Professor Blackthorn, let alone done anything that should warrant a private meeting.


    When they reached the office door, the prefect gave a sharp knock before stepping aside.


    ¡°Enter,¡± came a cool voice from within.


    The prefect gave Soya a brief nod before turning and walking away, leaving him standing alone. He swallowed, then reached for the handle and pushed the heavy wooden door open.


    The room was dimly lit by enchanted blue lanterns, their soft glow casting shadows along the walls lined with tomes, scrolls, and stacks of parchment. The air carried the scent of ink, aged paper, and something faintly metallic. A large, rune-etched desk dominated the space, and behind it sat Seikan Blackthorn, his piercing emerald eyes already fixed on Soya.


    Soya felt the weight of that gaze immediately. He swallowed hard as their eyes locked. The man was intimidating. His long black cloak pooled around his chair, the silver embroidery on the edges catching the light. His fingers, ink-stained from years of working with runes, tapped lightly against the desk.


    Soya stood in the doorway, hesitant.


    ¡°Close the door,¡± Seikan instructed, his voice level but carrying a sharp edge.


    Soya obeyed, the door shutting with a quiet click.


    For a moment, the silence stretched.


    Then Seikan reached into a drawer and placed something on the desk.


    The stone tablet.


    Soya¡¯s stomach twisted.


    ¡°This,¡± Seikan said, his fingers tracing the etched rune, ¡°was made by you?¡±


    Soya shifted uneasily. ¡°Y-Yeah¡­ in class.¡±


    Seikan lifted the tablet slightly, inspecting it with an almost clinical expression. ¡°Professor Wirruna brought it to me. She seems to think it is of significant importance.¡± His sharp gaze returned to Soya. ¡°Do you know why?¡±


    Soya hesitated, not sure what answer Blackthorn was expecting. ¡°She said it was¡­ different. That it didn¡¯t match the standard runic systems.¡±


    Seikan leaned back in his chair, studying Soya with an unreadable expression. ¡°That would be an understatement.¡± He set the tablet down with a measured motion. ¡°This rune is not just different. It is ancient. Older than the runic systems currently in use¡ªolder than even the scripts I have spent decades reconstructing.¡±


    Soya¡¯s mouth went dry. He barely understood the runes they were taught in class. ¡°I¡­ didn¡¯t think it was anything special. It just¡ª¡± He hesitated, then admitted, ¡°It just felt right.¡±


    Seikan¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly, and for a long moment, he said nothing. Then he steepled his fingers, his voice calm but firm. ¡°You are a Muggle-born.¡±


    Soya tensed. He had heard that phrase spoken with many different tones since arriving at Austramore. Some dismissive, some curious, and some outright contemptuous. From Seikan, it was purely factual.


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Soya replied cautiously.


    Seikan studied him. ¡°And yet you were able to create a rune that predates modern magical knowledge. Something no Muggle-born should have any way of knowing.¡±


    Soya felt a chill run down his spine. He had no explanation for it. ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know how I did it,¡± he admitted.


    Seikan reached out and pressed a fingertip to the rune, and for a brief moment, the stone pulsed faintly. His expression didn¡¯t change, but there was something in his gaze now¡ªsomething calculating.


    ¡°Curious,¡± he murmured.


    Soya¡¯s hands clenched at his sides. ¡°Am I¡­ in trouble?¡±


    Seikan¡¯s eyes flicked up to him, sharp and assessing. ¡°No.¡± He leaned forward slightly. ¡°But you are an anomaly, Soya Vareen. And anomalies do not go unnoticed.¡±


    Soya swallowed. He didn¡¯t like the sound of that.


    Seikan was silent for a moment, then finally spoke again. ¡°You will continue attending runes class. You will continue practicing. However, from this point forward, you will inform me if anything like this happens again.¡± His voice left no room for argument. ¡°No one else. Understood?¡±


    Soya nodded hesitantly. ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    Seikan leaned back once more. ¡°Good. You may go.¡±


    Soya turned toward the door, eager to leave the unsettling conversation behind.


    Just as he reached for the handle, Seikan¡¯s voice stopped him.


    ¡°One last thing, Vareen.¡±


    Soya turned back, tense.


    Seikan¡¯s emerald gaze locked onto him, unreadable.


    ¡°Be careful who you trust.¡±


    Soya walked briskly through the corridors, his mind still tangled in the conversation he had just left. Seikan Blackthorn¡¯s words echoed in his head. An anomaly. Be careful who you trust.


    He wasn¡¯t sure which part unsettled him more.


    By the time he reached the Thylacea common room, the warm glow of the fire and the familiar sound of students talking should have been a comfort. Instead, it all felt distant, like he was walking through a world that wasn¡¯t quite real.


    The moment he stepped inside, Davonte was on him.


    ¡°There you are! What the hell did Blackthorn want?¡± Davonte demanded, arms crossed, his dark eyes full of concern. Draven stood slightly behind him, watching with his usual calm but attentive expression.


    Soya hesitated. He had no idea how to explain it¡ªhow could he, when he didn¡¯t understand it himself? ¡°He just¡­ wanted to talk about my runes from class.¡±


    Davonte narrowed his eyes. ¡°What, like a ¡®wow, good job, kid¡¯ talk? Because you look like you saw a ghost.¡±


    Soya forced a small, tired smile. ¡°It was fine. Just¡­ unexpected.¡±


    Draven tilted his head slightly, studying Soya. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t have called you in for something as simple as a class assignment,¡± he said. ¡°Did he give you instructions?¡±


    Soya hesitated. He had promised Seikan he wouldn¡¯t tell anyone. ¡°Sort of. He said to keep practicing.¡±


    Davonte rolled his eyes. ¡°Well, that¡¯s¡­ vague.¡±


    Soya shrugged, trying to shake off the conversation. ¡°Look, I¡¯m just tired. I think I¡¯m gonna head to my room.¡±


    Davonte sighed but didn¡¯t push. ¡°Fine, but don¡¯t think you¡¯re getting out of explaining this forever.¡±


    Soya gave a small nod before slipping past them and heading up the dormitory stairs.


    As soon as he stepped into his room, he let out a long breath.


    Inkwell, his tiny kitten, was curled up on his bed, but at the sound of Soya¡¯s footsteps, she lifted her head and let out a soft mew.


    ¡°Hey, girl,¡± Soya murmured, sitting down on the edge of the bed and running a hand through his hair. He felt exhausted, but at the same time, there was a strange, restless energy buzzing beneath his skin.


    He didn¡¯t even think about it¡ªhis hands just moved.


    Reaching into his bag, he pulled out his notebook, flipping to an empty page. But as soon as his quill touched the paper, he hesitated.


    Not words.


    He wasn¡¯t writing words.


    Instead, his quill dragged across the parchment in smooth, instinctual strokes, forming intricate sequences of runes. They poured out of him like water, the ink flowing in patterns that felt¡­ right. Like they had always been there, waiting for him to bring them to life.


    He filled one page. Then another. Then another.


    Minutes passed, then an hour. His fingers cramped, but he barely noticed.


    By the time he finally stopped, he had covered dozens of pages in complex runic sequences, some small and precise, others sprawling and chaotic. His head throbbed, his vision swimming slightly from the sheer intensity of it.


    Inkwell padded up to his lap and nudged his hand with her nose, as if sensing his exhaustion.


    Soya blinked down at the pages. He had no idea what he had just written.


    But deep in his gut, he knew one thing for sure.


    This wasn¡¯t normal.

 Chapter 34: Sketchy Plans

    Sevrin stood near the professor¡¯s desk, his arms crossed as he listened to Marilla. He kept his face neutral, his expression unreadable, but his fingers twitched slightly against his sleeve.


    ¡°During the lesson, you¡¯ll make yourself useful,¡± Marilla said, her voice calm yet laced with something unmistakably firm. ¡°Once the dueling exercises begin, position yourself toward the back of the room.¡±


    Sevrin remained silent, waiting for the real instructions.


    ¡°There will be a bag,¡± she continued, her eyes locked onto his with that eerie, knowing gaze. ¡°It belongs to Soya. Inside is a sketchbook. You will take it and leave.¡±


    A flicker of irritation crossed Sevrin¡¯s face. He wasn¡¯t some errand boy. ¡°What¡¯s so important about a sketchbook?¡±


    Marilla¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. ¡°That¡¯s not for you to question. You¡¯ve seen what the boy can do, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    Sevrin scoffed. ¡°He¡¯s a fluke. Muggle-borns shouldn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    Marilla took a step closer, tilting her head slightly. ¡°Yet he is, isn¡¯t he?¡±


    Sevrin clenched his jaw. He had seen it. The way Soya had held his own against an older student in a duel. How his rune had caught Wirruna¡¯s attention. How everyone seemed to take notice of him.


    A nobody. A Muggle-born.


    Sevrin didn¡¯t like it. Didn¡¯t trust it.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to understand it,¡± Marilla continued smoothly. ¡°You just need to follow my instructions. Take the book, leave quietly, and bring it to me.¡±


    Sevrin exhaled sharply through his nose. This was beneath him, but refusing wasn¡¯t an option¡ªnot with who he was talking to.


    ¡°¡­Fine.¡±


    Marilla smiled, though there was no warmth in it. ¡°Good.¡±


    Without another word, Sevrin turned on his heel and left the office, his mind already calculating the best way to move unnoticed.


    Soya walked alongside Davonte and Draven, the three of them making their way toward the dueling hall. The corridors of Austramore were busier than usual, students moving in every direction, chattering about the upcoming lesson. A dueling class always drew attention¡ªwhether from excitement or nerves.


    Davonte nudged Soya¡¯s shoulder playfully. ¡°Bet you¡¯ll get called up first.¡±


    Soya rolled his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s not a competition.¡±


    ¡°Of course, it is,¡± Davonte smirked. ¡°Everything is.¡±


    Draven, walking slightly ahead, glanced back at them. ¡°It would be wise to observe before engaging. We¡¯ve only had a handful of structured dueling lessons. Rushing in without preparation¡ª¡±


    ¡°Is exactly what¡¯s going to happen,¡± Davonte interrupted, grinning. ¡°Because Marilla¡¯s gonna toss Soya into a match whether he likes it or not.¡±


    Soya sighed, but deep down, he knew Davonte was probably right.


    When they reached the dueling hall, the room was already set up. Training mats covered the floor, and pairs of students stood ready, waiting for instructions. Professor Marilla stood at the front, surveying them with her usual calculating gaze.


    Her stern eyes swept over the gathered students before settling on Soya. As expected, her gaze softened, a strange contrast to the way she looked at everyone else.


    ¡°As you all know,¡± she began, voice sharp, ¡°dueling is not a game. It is a test of control, precision, and tactical awareness. If you rely on brute force alone, you will lose. If you hesitate, you will lose. If you panic, you will lose.¡±


    She let the words settle before clapping her hands together. ¡°Come forward. You will each take turns attacking and defending. I will assign the first duel.¡±


    The room fell silent, everyone waiting for the inevitable.


    ¡°Soya. To the center.¡±


    Of course.


    Davonte gave him a knowing look as Soya stepped forward.


    ¡°Your opponent¡­¡± Marilla scanned the room before selecting a stocky boy from Bunjil House. ¡°Vaughn.¡±


    The boy nodded and stepped onto the mat opposite Soya.


    Marilla¡¯s lips curled into something that almost resembled amusement. ¡°Soya, stand here.¡± She gestured to a very specific spot¡ªone that, if he were to turn, would have the bags completely out of his line of sight.


    Soya steadied his breath and took his position.


    Marilla¡¯s usual sharpness returned as she addressed the class. ¡°Now. Wands out.¡±


    Sevrin moved carefully, keeping his steps light as he maneuvered toward the row of bags lined up against the wall. The students were all focused on the duel, their eyes locked on Soya and Vaughn as they exchanged spells under Marilla¡¯s watchful gaze. The perfect distraction.


    He had done things like this before¡ªsmall, precise acts that required no unnecessary movement. Sevrin knew that drawing attention, even in a room filled with noise and excitement, was the fastest way to fail. He kept his pace natural, his expression neutral, like he was simply repositioning himself for a better view of the duel.


    As he neared the bags, he slid his gaze across them, looking for the one that belonged to Soya. It wasn¡¯t difficult to find. The strap was slightly frayed, the stitching along the side worn from use. He had seen Soya carry it around enough times to recognize it instantly.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Sevrin knelt as if adjusting his shoelaces, fingers working swiftly to unbuckle the flap and slip his hand inside. His fingers brushed against parchment, books, and then¡ªthere. The sketchbook.


    He pulled it free, tucking it against his side as he rose to his feet. No sudden movements. No hesitation.


    A sharp crack echoed from the dueling platform as a spell rebounded, and all eyes turned to the match. It was the moment he needed.


    Sevrin moved, stepping backward toward the door as though simply repositioning himself again. He slipped into the hall without a single glance back.


    Once outside, he exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening around the sketchbook. He knew better than to stop moving. Marilla had given him an order, and lingering would be foolish.


    He turned down the corridor, heading for Marilla¡¯s office.


    Soya tightened his grip on his wand, the wooden handle warm against his palm as he faced Vaughn across the dueling platform. His heart pounded, not out of fear, but anticipation. He hadn¡¯t had much formal training, and most of what he did in battle was instinctual. His spells were quick, reactionary, and often improvised. That had worked in the past¡ªbut against someone like Vaughn, who had a pureblood upbringing and years of magical exposure, it might not be enough.


    ¡°Expelliarmus!¡±


    Soya barely had time to react. He twisted his body, sidestepping just in time to avoid the disarming spell. Vaughn was fast¡ªfaster than Soya expected. But something in him had already adapted. His stance shifted naturally, body moving before his mind could fully process it.


    ¡°Protego!¡± Soya cast the shield charm just as Vaughn fired off a second spell. Sparks of magic crackled against his barrier before dissipating. He adjusted his grip, trying to get a feel for Vaughn¡¯s rhythm.


    Another attack. Vaughn didn¡¯t hesitate.


    ¡°Flipendo!¡±


    Soya ducked, feeling the force of the knockback jinx just barely miss him. He scrambled to the side, firing back with the first thing that came to mind.


    ¡°Locomotor Wibbly!¡±


    Vaughn stumbled, his legs wobbling slightly under him, but he quickly forced himself upright with a grunt. His counterattack was sharp and immediate.


    ¡°Everte Statum!¡±


    The force of the spell struck Soya in the chest, knocking him back several feet. He hit the floor hard, breath leaving him in a sharp gasp. He groaned, pushing himself up as Vaughn advanced.


    Soya¡¯s mind raced. His magic had always come to him in bursts of instinct, guiding him in ways he couldn¡¯t always explain. Right now, that instinct screamed at him to stop defending and start acting.


    He saw his opening.


    ¡°Rictusempra!¡±


    The tickling charm hit Vaughn square in the ribs. His eyes widened in shock as an uncontrollable burst of laughter erupted from him. His wand hand trembled, struggling to hold steady as he gasped for breath. Soya took his chance.


    ¡°Petrificus Totalus!¡±


    The full body-bind curse struck before Vaughn could counter. His limbs snapped together stiffly, and he toppled backward, frozen in place. The duel was over.


    For a moment, silence hung over the room. Then, Marilla¡¯s voice cut through.


    ¡°Match over. Winner¡ªSoya.¡±


    Soya blinked, barely processing what had just happened. He had won. On instinct alone.


    The weight of it settled in as he stood there, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.


    Marilla stepped forward, her gaze unreadable. She didn¡¯t praise him outright, but there was something in her eyes¡ªa softness that wasn¡¯t there for the other students.


    Soya didn¡¯t know why, but he didn¡¯t like it.


    Still, he had won. And the realization sent a thrill of excitement through him.


    Soya moved to the back of the room as the last duel wrapped up, his mind still buzzing from his unexpected victory. His heart was still racing, his hands slightly unsteady as he reached down to grab his bag. He opened it and rifled through its contents to find his water bottle.


    Then he froze.


    His sketchbook was gone.


    Panic spiked through him like a bolt of lightning. He flipped through everything¡ªhis textbooks, his parchment, his quills¡ªbut the sketchbook wasn¡¯t there. He crouched down, checking under the desk, under the benches, even glancing around the room in case it had somehow fallen out.


    No sign of it.


    His breathing grew uneven as dread settled deep in his stomach. That sketchbook wasn¡¯t just a book¡ªit was his. It had his drawings, his observations, his thoughts. It was personal. And worse, it had sketches of things he couldn¡¯t explain.


    Things he had drawn that moved. That changed.


    If someone saw those...


    He clenched his fists, trying to steady himself. Maybe it had just been misplaced. Maybe he¡¯d left it somewhere without realizing.


    Or maybe someone had taken it.


    ¡°Is something wrong?¡±


    Soya¡¯s head snapped up at the voice. Professor Marilla stood nearby, her expression unreadable. She wasn¡¯t addressing him like she had the others¡ªharsh and critical. Her tone was... softer.


    Almost concerned.


    ¡°My¡ª¡± He hesitated, swallowing thickly before forcing himself to answer. ¡°My sketchbook. It¡¯s gone.¡±


    Marilla¡¯s brows lifted slightly. ¡°Gone?¡±


    Soya nodded, feeling a fresh wave of frustration. ¡°I had it when I got here. It was in my bag before class. Now it¡¯s just... gone.¡±


    She studied him for a long moment before giving a small, thoughtful nod. ¡°That is troubling,¡± she murmured. Then, as if making a decision, she turned toward her desk.


    ¡°Wait here.¡±


    Soya blinked in confusion as she walked over and pulled something from a drawer. When she returned, she placed a book into his hands¡ªa new sketchbook.


    But not just any sketchbook.


    Soya¡¯s breath hitched as he ran his fingers over the cover. The craftsmanship was exquisite, the binding strong, the pages thick. His hands trembled slightly as he opened it, his eyes widening as he recognized the faint shimmer in the paper.


    Shadowmend paper.


    His heart pounded.


    He had read about this after arriving at Austramore¡ªhigh-quality, magically reinforced pages designed for preservation, often used by spellcrafters, scholars, and artists who needed their work to endure. It was expensive. Nearly impossible for a first-year student like him to get his hands on.


    He had wanted this.


    Marilla¡ªor rather, Salsiar¡ªhad known.


    ¡°I¡¯ll look into what happened to your sketchbook,¡± Marilla said smoothly. ¡°But in the meantime, this should suffice.¡±


    Soya swallowed hard. This was... too much. Too generous. He wasn¡¯t used to generosity.


    His fingers traced over the cover again.


    Why was she doing this?


    ¡°I... I don¡¯t know what to say,¡± he admitted, his voice quieter now.


    Marilla¡¯s lips curled ever so slightly. ¡°Then say nothing. Just use it well.¡±


    There was something unnerving about the way she spoke, but Soya was too overwhelmed to process it fully.


    He clutched the book tightly, a mixture of gratitude and unease settling deep in his chest.


    Something was very wrong.


    He just didn¡¯t know what.


    Soya sat in the corner of the Thylacea common room, his new sketchbook propped up on his lap, a fresh set of pencils resting beside him. The common room was alive with the usual hum of conversation, but he had tuned it out, too focused on the feel of the shadowmend paper beneath his fingertips.


    It was different from anything he had ever used before. The texture was smoother, almost silky, yet the way it absorbed ink and graphite was sharper, more defined. Every line he traced had a depth to it, a crispness that felt almost too perfect. He had read about shadowmend paper in the school¡¯s library¡ªit was enchanted to preserve artwork, preventing smudging and fading. A dream material for any artist.


    He had already started sketching the outline of something, though he wasn¡¯t entirely sure what it was yet. His hand moved on instinct, letting the image form naturally, rather than forcing it. The pencils glided effortlessly, as if the paper itself was guiding him.


    Davonte plopped down beside him on the couch, stretching his legs over the armrest. ¡°Still brooding over the missing sketchbook?¡±


    Soya sighed, keeping his eyes on his work. ¡°Not brooding. Just... unsettled.¡±


    Draven, who sat cross-legged on the floor flipping through a thick tome, didn¡¯t look up as he spoke. ¡°It is suspicious, I¡¯ll give you that. A sketchbook disappearing in the middle of class? Either someone stole it, or it simply ceased to exist.¡±


    Soya frowned, erasing a stray mark with the side of his hand. ¡°That¡¯s not comforting.¡±


    Davonte smirked. ¡°Hey, at least you got an upgrade. This thing looks expensive.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want an upgrade,¡± Soya muttered. ¡°I wanted my sketchbook.¡±


    Draven finally lifted his gaze. ¡°It¡¯s possible a student took it for a prank. Or perhaps Marilla was testing your reaction.¡±


    ¡°She was really nice about it,¡± Soya admitted, his voice quiet.


    Davonte raised an eyebrow. ¡°Marilla? Nice? Now that¡¯s suspicious.¡±


    Soya¡¯s pencil hovered over the page, his thoughts turning over the possibilities. His gut told him something wasn¡¯t right. But at the same time, what could he do?


    With a small sigh, he pushed the thoughts aside and returned to his drawing. He would figure it out later.

 Chapter 35: Unwanted Attention

    Soya made his way down the winding corridors of Austramore, Davonte at his side, while Draven trailed slightly behind, nose buried in a book. The morning air was crisp, the stone walls humming faintly with old magic as students shuffled through the halls, heading to their next class.


    Charms with Professor Coorong was always an unpredictable experience. Unlike most of the other professors, Coorong had an energy that bordered on manic, and his lessons were equal parts educational and absolute chaos. The man was as eccentric as they came, but he was also one of the most beloved professors in the school. Students never quite knew what they were in for, which made Charms one of the most anticipated classes of the week.


    As they entered the classroom, they found Coorong perched atop his desk, balancing on one foot with his arms stretched out dramatically. He wore his usual assortment of mismatched robes, today¡¯s ensemble consisting of a star-speckled deep blue tunic and a pair of red and gold-striped trousers that clashed spectacularly with the rest of his outfit. His wild gray hair stuck out in every direction, as if he had just been struck by lightning.


    "Ah-ha! My young magical prodigies arrive at last!" Coorong announced, wobbling slightly before dropping down onto the desk with a theatrical sigh. "Today, we shall embark on a journey of spellcasting finesse, where only the keenest of minds shall succeed and the clumsiest shall¡ª" He paused for dramatic effect, then suddenly flailed his arms. "¡ªexplode into a pile of nothingness! Ha!"


    The class erupted into laughter.


    "Just kidding! Or am I?" Coorong winked before hopping off his desk. "No, no, of course, I¡¯m joking. Probably. But let¡¯s not test that theory, hmm? Today¡¯s lesson is all about finesse and control¡ªtwo things that separate true spellcasters from glorified fireworks!"


    Soya smirked as he took his seat. No matter how bizarre Coorong¡¯s methods were, he always found himself actually learning something in his class.


    The professor clapped his hands, causing a small burst of multicolored sparks to shoot from his sleeves. "Now then, let¡¯s begin! Today, we shall be perfecting the Banishing Charm, Depulso! A most useful spell, and one that, when misused, has led to several students launching their textbooks straight out the window¡ª"


    A sudden loud thump against the far wall made Coorong snap his fingers. "Case in point. That was last week¡¯s mistake. Don¡¯t be last week¡¯s mistake."


    The students chuckled as he waved his wand, summoning several floating objects from the back of the room¡ªfeathers, books, wooden blocks, and even a few oddly shaped cushions that looked suspiciously like they had faces sewn onto them.


    "Your task, my dear students, is to master Depulso without sending your target careening into the abyss of forgotten objects." Coorong grinned. "This is an exercise in control, not brute force! Unless, of course, brute force is funnier."


    He clapped his hands again, and the objects gently floated toward each student.


    Soya glanced at the small wooden block hovering in front of him, gripping his wand. Depulso wasn¡¯t an overly complex spell, but it required an even balance of intent and control. Too much force, and the object could fly across the room like a rogue Bludger. Too little, and it would just awkwardly wobble in place.


    "Alright, let¡¯s see what you lot can do! Go on, Depulso away!" Coorong encouraged, waving his hands dramatically.


    Soya took a deep breath, steadying his wand as he flicked it in a precise motion. "Depulso!"


    The wooden block shot backward a few inches, then stopped, hovering slightly.


    "Hah!" Coorong pointed at him. "See! That¡¯s a fine use of the spell! Not too weak, not too strong, just a delightful little push!"


    Around the room, students were having varying degrees of success. Davonte had successfully banished his object¡ªstraight into another student¡¯s forehead. Draven, of course, executed the spell perfectly on his first attempt, sending his cushion floating smoothly across the desk like it was meant to be there all along.


    Coorong weaved through the students, giving out exaggerated praise or comically dramatic groans depending on their results. He suddenly stopped next to a student who had somehow sent their object rocketing into the ceiling.


    "Magnificent display of raw power!" Coorong declared, nodding solemnly. "Absolutely zero control, but hey, at least the ceiling knows you mean business!"


    Soya shook his head, chuckling. He liked this class. Even when things went wrong, it was never boring.


    As the lesson went on, the students continued practicing, refining their technique under Coorong¡¯s watchful and highly unpredictable guidance. Some improved quickly, while others continued to struggle. One student managed to send their book soaring out an open window, and Coorong clapped his hands in delight.


    "And that, my students, is why I do not teach near cliff edges!"


    By the time class ended, Soya felt like he had actually made progress. His control was improving, and Coorong had even given him an enthusiastic thumbs-up before dismissing them.


    "Remember, magic is about balance, my dear pupils!" Coorong called after them as they filed out of the room. "And also about not launching innocent objects into the stratosphere! But mostly balance!"


    Soya shook his head with a smile. Charms was definitely never dull.


    Soya walked alongside Davonte and Draven as they made their way toward the Great Hall, the morning air in the corridors buzzing with the usual chatter of students eager for breakfast.


    ¡°I swear,¡± Davonte grumbled, rubbing his arm. ¡°Professor Coorong might actually be a genius, but I think I¡¯ve taken more magical collateral damage in his class than anywhere else in this school.¡±


    Soya snickered. ¡°Maybe you should stop aiming your spells like you¡¯re trying to knock someone¡¯s head off.¡±


    ¡°It was an accident!¡± Davonte threw his arms up. ¡°That book just had an unfortunate trajectory.¡±


    Draven, who had been silently listening, finally spoke. ¡°An ¡®unfortunate trajectory¡¯ would imply a minor miscalculation. You, however, turned your textbook into an unguided missile.¡±


    Davonte groaned. ¡°Alright, fine. Maybe I should practice my aim. But seriously, that was a fun class, right?¡±


    Soya nodded. ¡°Yeah. I mean, compared to some of the other classes, Coorong actually makes things interesting.¡±


    ¡°Interesting?¡± Davonte scoffed. ¡°The man¡¯s a walking hazard zone. You saw how he almost knocked over his own desk while demonstrating the spell.¡±


    ¡°I think he does it on purpose,¡± Draven added. ¡°It keeps students engaged.¡±


    ¡°Or on edge,¡± Soya muttered.


    As they turned a corner, they nearly walked into a group of second-years huddled together, whispering in hushed voices. One of them, a girl with braided hair and glasses too big for her face, noticed them and quickly elbowed her friend, making the whole group go silent.


    Davonte frowned. ¡°Uh¡­ morning?¡±


    The second-years all avoided eye contact and shuffled off, leaving the three standing there with confused expressions.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°Well, that wasn¡¯t suspicious at all,¡± Davonte muttered.


    Soya glanced over his shoulder at them as they hurried down the hallway. ¡°You think they know something?¡±


    ¡°Either that or we smell,¡± Davonte quipped.


    ¡°I would bet on rumors,¡± Draven said matter-of-factly. ¡°The school was locked down for weeks. That means a lot of speculation, exaggerated stories, and misinformation.¡±


    Davonte sighed dramatically. ¡°So you¡¯re saying we¡¯ve probably been turned into some wild legend? Great. What do you think they¡¯re saying about us?¡±


    Soya smirked. ¡°That you heroically saved a bunch of students from a basilisk.¡±


    Davonte grinned. ¡°Yeah, I like that version.¡±


    Draven adjusted his sleeve. ¡°Or that you screamed so loudly when it appeared that it scared the beast away.¡±


    Soya tried to hold in his laughter as Davonte gasped. ¡°I did not scream!¡±


    ¡°Memory is subjective,¡± Draven said dryly.


    ¡°Subjective my¡ª" Davonte stopped himself as they reached the entrance to the Great Hall, the warm smell of fresh bread and roasted meats hitting them instantly.


    Whatever conversation they were having immediately took a backseat to breakfast.


    ¡°Food first,¡± Soya said, already walking in. ¡°Arguments later.¡±


    ¡°Fine, but I¡¯m coming back to this,¡± Davonte muttered, following him in.


    Draven merely shook his head, smirking as they found their seats.


    Soya sat at the Thylacea table, enjoying his breakfast alongside Davonte and Draven, their conversation bouncing between topics ranging from magical theory to the best way to get rid of the ever-creeping vineweed that had started growing near the dorm windows.


    "You can''t just pull it out," Draven stated matter-of-factly, pushing his eggs around his plate. "It reacts to aggression and tightens its roots."


    Davonte scoffed. "It''s a plant, not a sentient beast."


    "Technically, it does have a form of magical awareness," Draven countered. "Professor Wirruna mentioned¡ª"


    "Right, okay, nerd," Davonte interrupted, shaking his head. "I''ll just set it on fire."


    Soya snorted into his juice, while Draven sighed. "That will only make it release spores, and then it''ll grow twice as fast."


    "You have no idea how annoying you are sometimes," Davonte muttered, but there was no heat behind it.


    Soya chuckled, glancing up from his food. That was when he noticed her.


    A girl sitting at the Bunjil table, a few rows down, staring at him.


    She wasn¡¯t glaring or sneering¡ªjust watching. Observing.


    Long, sleek black hair tied in a neat ponytail, piercing green eyes that locked onto him with an unreadable expression. There was a sharpness to her, an air of control and calculation.


    When their eyes met, she smirked ever so slightly.


    Soya immediately looked away, feeling his stomach twist with unease.


    "Uh¡­ who is that?" he asked, keeping his voice low.


    Davonte followed his gaze, then tensed slightly. "That¡¯s Lykaios Verelle."


    Soya blinked. "Verelle? Like¡­ Sevrin Verelle?"


    "Yeah," Davonte confirmed. "His older sister."


    "She¡¯s¡­ watching me."


    "Yeah," Davonte said, his voice clipped. "She does that."


    Soya frowned. "Why?"


    Draven, who had remained quiet until now, finally looked up. "Lykaios is different from her brother," he said slowly. "Sevrin is cruel, but he''s predictable. Lykaios is... something else. She''s calm, deliberate. If she¡¯s watching you, she¡¯s thinking about something. Strategizing."


    Soya¡¯s unease deepened. "Great. That¡¯s¡­ not terrifying at all."


    Davonte sighed, rubbing his temples. "Just ignore her. You don¡¯t want to get caught up in whatever she¡¯s planning."


    Soya stole another glance toward the Bunjil table.


    Lykaios was still watching.


    And that smirk hadn¡¯t faded.


    Soya groggily blinked awake as the early morning light filtered through the dormitory windows, casting golden streaks across the stone walls. He let out a quiet groan, stretching his arms above his head before flopping back onto his pillow for just a moment longer. The warm weight of Inkwell, his kitten, curled up near his ribs, shifted slightly as the small creature let out a soft, contented purr.


    The other beds in the dorm were still occupied, but soft murmurs and the rustling of blankets signaled that the others were beginning to stir. Soya reached down, giving Inkwell a gentle scratch behind the ears before carefully sitting up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.


    "Another day," he muttered under his breath.


    Sliding out of bed, he grabbed his uniform and headed to the washroom to get ready. He wasn¡¯t the type to take long¡ªhe¡¯d lived most of his life in a muggle household where he had to wake up early to avoid fighting for bathroom time. Within a few minutes, he was dressed, his tie slightly crooked but otherwise presentable.


    As he adjusted his bag, he noticed Davonte¡¯s bed was still neatly made.


    Right. He had mentioned something about being busy with a family matter today.


    Soya sighed, slinging his bag over his shoulder before making his way down into the Thylacea common room. The space was still waking up, students groggily making their way toward the exit or chatting in hushed voices over last-minute homework.


    Draven was already waiting near the exit, arms crossed as he leaned against the stone archway.


    "You took longer than usual," Draven remarked as Soya approached.


    "Blame my kitten," Soya replied, stifling a yawn. "She didn¡¯t want to get up, and somehow that made me not want to either."


    Draven raised a brow. "You''re blaming a cat for your morning laziness?"


    "Obviously."


    Draven let out a dry chuckle before pushing off the wall. "Davonte isn''t coming?"


    Soya shook his head. "Something about family. Guess it''s just us today."


    Draven nodded once in understanding before motioning toward the exit. "Then let¡¯s go. We don¡¯t want to be late."


    Together, they stepped out into the hallway, the castle¡¯s early morning chill settling over them as they made their way to class.


    Soya and Draven made their way through the winding corridors of Austramore, the faint scent of aged parchment and candle wax lingering in the air. The castle was always colder in the mornings, the stone walls retaining the night¡¯s chill, but it was a familiar sort of discomfort, one that made the upcoming class¡ªDivination¡ªall the more tolerable.


    As they approached the spiral staircase leading to the Divination classroom, Draven let out a small sigh. "This class is a waste of time."


    Soya gave him a sideways glance. "You say that about a lot of classes."


    "That¡¯s because most of them are."


    Soya smirked but didn¡¯t argue. He had to admit, Divination was one of the more... questionable subjects. From what he had heard, it relied more on instinct and vague interpretations rather than hard, structured knowledge like Runes or Potions. Still, he was curious. It wasn''t every day one got to see glimpses of the future¡ªif that was even possible.


    They climbed the stairs, reaching the upper levels of the school where the Divination classroom resided. The moment they stepped through the arched entrance, the atmosphere shifted. Unlike the structured layout of most classrooms, this one was filled with round tables draped in rich fabrics, glowing lanterns floating in the air, and the faint, musky scent of incense curling through the air. Plush cushions lined the floor near the tables, and a large crystal ball sat on a pedestal at the front of the room, shimmering faintly in the dim lighting.


    Professor Aster sat cross-legged atop a large pillow near the center of the room, her grey eyes gleaming with an unreadable expression. Her long black hair was tied neatly in a braid, and her hands rested lightly on a steaming cup of herbal tea.


    "Welcome, my seekers of wisdom," she said in a lilting tone, a slow smile forming as she gestured for the students to take their seats. "Today, we peer beyond the veil of the present and into the mysteries of fate."


    Draven rolled his eyes as they moved to a table toward the back, settling onto the cushions.


    "She sounds like she reads off the back of a fortune cookie," Draven muttered under his breath.


    Soya stifled a laugh, but Professor Aster¡¯s sharp gaze flicked in their direction, her expression amused.


    "Ah, skepticism¡ªalways a sign of a mind rooted in logic," she mused, tapping a slender finger against the rim of her teacup. "And yet, even the most rigid of minds cannot ignore the whispers of destiny."


    Draven simply crossed his arms, unimpressed.


    Professor Aster stood, moving gracefully toward the front of the room. "Today, we will begin with an exercise in tarot reading. Each of you will select a deck, shuffle it with intent, and draw three cards. The first represents your past, the second your present, and the third... your potential future."


    The students murmured among themselves as they reached for the delicate stacks of tarot cards spread across the tables. Soya hesitated before taking one, feeling the slight weight of the deck in his hands. The cards were old but well cared for, their edges smooth from years of use.


    He shuffled them carefully, focusing on his intent¡ªor rather, trying to. He wasn¡¯t sure what he wanted to see. He had never really thought about his future before; his life had been one long series of changes and uncertainties.


    Finally, he placed the deck down and drew three cards.


    The first: The Tower.


    Soya frowned slightly. That was one of the bad ones, right? It depicted a crumbling tower, lightning striking its peak as figures fell from its heights.


    The second: The Magician.


    A figure stood with one hand raised to the heavens, the other pointed downward, a swirl of elemental magic surrounding them.


    The third: The Moon.


    The card showed a silver moon hanging in the sky, with two creatures¡ªone tame, one wild¡ªhowling beneath it.


    Professor Aster¡¯s gaze drifted toward Soya¡¯s table. "Interesting..." she murmured as she approached. "Tell me, Soya¡ªwhat do you see in these cards?"


    Soya shifted uncomfortably. "Uh... well, The Tower seems pretty bad. Destruction and chaos, right?"


    Aster nodded but said nothing, waiting for him to continue.


    He glanced at the second card. "The Magician... maybe something about control? Power?"


    "And The Moon?" she prompted, her tone softer.


    Soya hesitated longer. "Something hidden... something unknown."


    Aster gave him a long, thoughtful look before nodding. "A past of upheaval, a present of untapped potential, and a future shrouded in mystery. A fitting spread for one who walks an uncertain path."


    Soya swallowed, glancing at Draven, who had drawn his own cards and looked thoroughly unimpressed by the entire process.


    "Don¡¯t let cards dictate your fate," Draven muttered. "They''re just fancy pieces of paper."


    Aster smiled. "And yet, even fancy pieces of paper have a way of reflecting truth, whether we believe in them or not."


    Soya exhaled, tapping the edge of his cards as the lesson continued. He wasn¡¯t sure if he believed in Divination, but¡ªthe cards had left an impression on him.


    And he wasn¡¯t sure if he liked what they had to say.

 Chapter 36: New Arrivals

    Soya stretched his arms as he sat up in bed, blinking the sleep from his eyes. The dim morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the Thylacea dormitory. The room was still quiet, apart from the occasional shuffle of other students waking up and getting ready for the day.


    Across the room, Davonte was rummaging through his trunk, tossing clothes and books onto his bed with reckless abandon. "Where the hell is my other sock?" he muttered, digging deeper into the mess.


    Draven, already fully dressed and seated at his desk, didn¡¯t look up from his journal. "Perhaps if you organized your belongings instead of treating them like an excavation site, you wouldn¡¯t misplace things so often."


    Davonte shot him a flat look. "Yeah, thanks, mate. Real helpful."


    Soya swung his legs over the side of his bed and ran a hand through his messy hair before reaching for his uniform. "You lose your socks every morning, Davonte. Maybe just accept that they exist in another dimension now."


    "That dimension being the inside of your trunk," Draven added without missing a beat.


    Davonte scoffed but, sure enough, after a few more seconds of frantic searching, he pulled the missing sock from his own pile of clothes. "Right. So anyway, breakfast?"


    Soya pulled his robes on and grabbed his bag. "Yeah, let¡¯s go before all the good food¡¯s gone."


    Draven closed his journal and stood up. "It¡¯s a buffet-style meal with magically replenishing food. The notion of anything running out is entirely irrational."


    Davonte clapped him on the shoulder. "And yet, mate, the best stuff still disappears first."


    Soya smirked as they headed out of the dormitory and into the common room, the familiar warmth of a new day settling over them as they made their way toward the Great Hall.


    The Great Hall buzzed with conversation as students gathered for breakfast. Soya, Davonte, and Draven took their usual seats at the Thylacea table, their plates filling with warm toast, eggs, and fresh fruit. The familiar, comforting clatter of cutlery echoed through the hall, making it feel as if everything had finally settled back to normal.


    But then, the murmurs of casual conversation died down as Headmaster Boromus Spellchecker stood at the front of the hall. The air shifted. Even before he spoke, the students knew this was more than the usual morning announcement.


    Boromus raised his ironbark staff, tapping it once against the floor. The enchanted torches lining the walls flickered as a hush fell over the room. His sharp, knowing gaze swept across the students before he spoke.


    "As many of you are aware," he began, his voice warm but firm, "recent events have shaken not only Austramore but the entire magical world." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "What you may not know is that we were not the only school affected. These attacks extended beyond our walls, reaching far across our great continent. Several magical institutions have suffered losses, and some have even been forced to close their doors indefinitely."


    A ripple of whispers spread through the students. Some exchanged uneasy glances, while others leaned in closer, straining to hear what came next.


    Boromus continued. "Austramore remains standing¡ªnot by luck, but because of the strength of those who protect it. However, we do not turn away those in need. As the most secure and prestigious magical school in Australia, it is our duty to offer refuge to those displaced by these unfortunate circumstances."


    At that moment, four students stepped forward, moving to stand before the head table.


    The first was a small, anxious-looking girl with long blonde hair, her oversized jumper nearly swallowing her frame. She fidgeted slightly, her blue eyes darting nervously over the gathered students.


    Beside her stood a boy of average height, his striking white hair streaked with pink and teal, his yellow eyes scanning the crowd with bright curiosity. He gave a small, mischievous grin to no one in particular, his hands tucked into his pockets.


    The third student was a poised and disciplined-looking girl with steel-blue hair, her sharp, intelligent eyes betraying no uncertainty. She stood with quiet confidence, her presence commanding attention even without a word.


    And then, towering over them all, was a massive boy¡ªeasily seven feet tall¡ªwith wild red hair and warm amber eyes. His large hands were folded awkwardly in front of him, as if he were trying not to take up too much space.


    Boromus smiled at the four students before turning back to the hall. "These students have been entrusted to our care. They will be sorted into their proper houses, and I expect you all to welcome them as brothers and sisters of Austramore."


    He raised his staff once more, and as he did, a shimmer of golden light swirled above the hall. A strange, ancient-looking scepter materialized in midair, glowing with a soft, pulsing energy. The very air seemed to hum with its presence.


    The Sorting was about to begin.


    As Boromus Spellchecker lifted the ancient Arboris Scepter, the entire Great Hall fell silent. The scepter pulsed, glowing faintly as the first new student stepped forward. The ritual was one of the oldest at Austramore, a tradition that dated back to its founding.


    Alara Steel was the first to approach, her small hands clenched tightly in front of her. Her blue-tongued skink, Wally, clung to her shoulder, flicking his tongue nervously. She looked around the hall with wide, uncertain eyes, clearly overwhelmed by the attention.


    Boromus gave her a warm smile, his voice as welcoming as always. ¡°Alara Steel. Let us see where the scepter guides you.¡±


    The Arboris Scepter crackled with energy as Alara stepped closer, her entire body stiff with nerves. The room held its breath as the light flickered to life, swirling momentarily before settling into a deep green glow¡ªBunjil.


    ¡°Bunjil House,¡± Boromus announced.


    A soft murmur ran through the hall, and the students at the Bunjil table clapped politely. Alara¡¯s face turned red as she hurried over to join them, clearly relieved the moment was over.


    Boromus chuckled to himself before turning his gaze toward the next student.


    ¡°Kalsei Detra.¡±


    Kalsei stepped forward confidently, his white hair with pink and teal streaks catching the light as he grinned at the scepter. His piercing yellow eyes held nothing but amusement, as if he had already guessed where he would end up.


    He placed his hand on the scepter, and instantly, the light burst into a brilliant orange glow¡ªThylacea.


    ¡°Thylacea House,¡± Boromus declared, his voice carrying over the Great Hall.


    Kalsei giggled to himself as he made his way toward the Thylacea table, settling in as if he had always belonged there. The other students at the table exchanged curious glances, but Kalsei simply leaned back, completely at ease.


    Boromus wasted no time moving on. ¡°Tiana Loreman.¡±


    Tiana walked forward with measured steps, her steel-blue hair cascading over her shoulders. She carried herself with a quiet confidence, her dark eyes unwavering as she approached the scepter. Unlike Alara, she did not hesitate. She placed her hand on the scepter, her fingers steady.


    For a moment, the scepter seemed unsure, flickering between colors¡ªfirst red, then blue, then back again. The hall murmured as the glow finally settled into a strong, unwavering orange¡ªThylacea.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Thylacea House,¡± Boromus announced with a satisfied nod.


    Tiana¡¯s expression did not change, but as she walked toward her new house table, there was an unmistakable sense of purpose in her stride. She took a seat beside Kalsei, who grinned at her.


    ¡°Guess we¡¯re housemates,¡± he said cheerfully.


    Tiana merely nodded, her dark eyes studying him curiously.


    Boromus turned his attention to the last student, his voice carrying across the hall. ¡°Grundle Strang.¡±


    A ripple of whispers spread through the students as the towering boy stepped forward. At seven feet tall, Grundle was an imposing figure, but there was no trace of arrogance or intimidation in his amber eyes. He walked carefully, mindful of every step, as if afraid of knocking something over.


    The scepter pulsed the moment his hand touched it. There was no hesitation, no flickering between colors. A strong, unwavering blue glow filled the hall¡ªNingaloo.


    ¡°Ningaloo House,¡± Boromus declared, and this time the applause was louder.


    Grundle grinned widely, his deep, booming laugh echoing through the hall as he made his way toward his house table. Some of the Ningaloo students had to crane their necks just to look up at him as he sat down, but his presence was already putting them at ease.


    With the sorting complete, Boromus lowered the scepter, the glow fading once more. He surveyed the hall, his sharp eyes glinting with wisdom.


    ¡°Austramore welcomes you all,¡± he said simply, his voice carrying warmth and authority. ¡°May this be the start of a new journey.¡±


    And with that, the Great Hall erupted into chatter once more, the excitement of the new arrivals settling in as breakfast continued.


    Soya took a sip of his juice, eyes flicking between the two new additions to the Thylacea table. Kalsei Detra and Tiana Loreman. The former had already made himself comfortable, lounging against the bench like he¡¯d been at Austramore for years. The latter sat perfectly upright, her sharp gaze sweeping the table like she was analyzing everything at once.


    Davonte, never one to shy away from new faces, was the first to break the silence. ¡°So, Kalsei, right? You¡¯re the exchange student?¡±


    Kalsei nodded, his grin playful. ¡°Yup. Been to a few places, but thought I¡¯d try Australia next. Never wrestled a crocodile before, so that seemed like something I should fix.¡±


    Soya blinked. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ not a requirement to live here.¡±


    Kalsei gasped dramatically. ¡°What? Then why am I even here? I was promised adventure, danger, and snacks.¡±


    Draven, who had been quietly observing, set his spoon down and adjusted his posture. ¡°So you chose to study here for the¡­ thrill of it?¡±


    ¡°Obviously,¡± Kalsei said, popping a grape into his mouth. ¡°Well, that and I wanted to see if the spiders here are really as bad as people say. I have not been disappointed.¡±


    Soya shuddered. ¡°Please tell me you didn¡¯t bring one inside.¡±


    Kalsei smirked but said nothing.


    Davonte pointed a fork at him. ¡°See, I like you already. You understand the spirit of adventure.¡±


    Tiana, who had been silently observing, finally spoke. Her voice was calm, measured. ¡°Adventure without direction is foolish.¡±


    Kalsei gasped again, clutching his chest as if she had mortally wounded him. ¡°Ouch. Straight for the heart.¡±


    Tiana did not flinch. ¡°I only speak truth.¡±


    Draven leaned in slightly, curiosity in his gaze. ¡°You¡¯re very¡­ precise with your words.¡±


    Tiana met his eyes. ¡°Words should not be wasted.¡±


    Soya exchanged glances with Davonte, who raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Okay, noted. No small talk with you,¡± Davonte said, slicing into his toast. ¡°So, if you don¡¯t mind me asking, what¡¯s your story, Tiana?¡±


    Tiana hesitated. It was brief, but noticeable. ¡°I was at Warragal Academy before¡­ the attacks.¡±


    Soya¡¯s stomach twisted. They all knew about the schools that had been destroyed.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said quietly.


    Tiana nodded once, accepting the sentiment but not dwelling on it. ¡°It is why I am here now. A fresh start.¡±


    Kalsei, perhaps sensing the weight of the moment, leaned forward conspiratorially. ¡°I, too, am here for a fresh start. And also because my last school banned me from making impromptu concerts in the hallways.¡±


    Soya narrowed his eyes. ¡°Is that¡­ actually true?¡±


    Kalsei wiggled his eyebrows. ¡°Guess you¡¯ll have to find out.¡±


    Davonte grinned. ¡°Oh, I like this one. This is going to be fun.¡±


    Tiana sighed softly, as if she had already resigned herself to the chaos. ¡°I foresee trouble.¡±


    ¡°You see the future now?¡± Kalsei teased.


    ¡°No,¡± Tiana replied smoothly. ¡°Just a keen sense for nonsense.¡±


    Soya hid his smile behind his cup. Yeah, things were about to get a lot more interesting.


    The corridors buzzed with the usual morning rush as students shuffled between the long stone halls, their robes swishing against the polished floors. Soya, Davonte, and Draven led Kalsei and Tiana through the winding paths toward the Potions classroom, dodging a few students in their haste.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s Professor Blackthorn like?¡± Kalsei asked, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.


    Soya and Davonte exchanged a glance.


    ¡°He¡¯s¡­ a bit of a nightmare,¡± Davonte admitted. ¡°But he knows his stuff.¡±


    Soya nodded. ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s strict. And don¡¯t expect him to tolerate mistakes. At all.¡±


    Draven, walking beside them with his usual calm demeanor, added, ¡°He doesn¡¯t suffer fools, and he has very high expectations. If you respect the craft, he¡¯ll acknowledge it. If you don¡¯t¡­¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll eviscerate you,¡± Davonte finished.


    Kalsei¡¯s eyebrows lifted. ¡°Sounds fun.¡±


    ¡°You say that now.¡± Tiana¡¯s tone was neutral, but there was the faintest hint of amusement.


    As they rounded the last corner, the cool dungeon air wrapped around them like a second cloak. The Potions classroom was carved deep beneath the school, the walls damp with centuries of history, the scent of herbs and cauldrons ever lingering in the air. The moment they stepped inside, the murmur of students settled, and all eyes subtly shifted toward the imposing figure at the front of the room.


    Professor Seikan Blackthorn stood at his usual place behind the grand iron cauldron, his presence as sharp as ever. His long, dark cloak barely moved as he turned his piercing emerald gaze toward the class, scanning the students with the same calculating scrutiny as always.


    Soya took his usual seat with Davonte and Draven, while Kalsei and Tiana found spots nearby. Soya noticed it almost immediately¡ªthe slight flicker of Seikan¡¯s eyes toward Kalsei. It was brief, barely perceptible, but it happened more than once. And yet, Blackthorn¡¯s expression remained unreadable.


    The professor clasped his hands together, signaling the official start of the lesson. ¡°Today, we will be crafting a rather delicate potion¡ªone that requires precision, patience, and competence. Qualities I expect from every single one of you.¡±


    Soya and Davonte exchanged a glance. This was going to be brutal.


    Seikan waved his hand, and the large blackboard behind him filled with elegant script.


    The Elixir of Vitality


    ¡°This potion,¡± he continued, ¡°is designed to restore stamina and energy to the drinker. It is deceptively simple in its composition, yet the brewing process is utterly unforgiving.¡± His voice was smooth but edged with warning. ¡°One mistake, one lapse in judgment, and you will not create an elixir. You will create an undrinkable sludge. Or worse.¡±


    There was an uneasy shuffling among the students.


    ¡°Begin,¡± Seikan instructed.


    The room erupted into quiet activity, the sound of ingredients being measured and knives rhythmically slicing through roots and herbs.


    Soya carefully measured out his ingredients, meticulously double-checking his work. Davonte, on the other hand, looked like he was debating whether or not to throw everything in at once just to see what would happen.


    ¡°Do not even think about it,¡± Soya whispered.


    Davonte sighed but obeyed, adding his crushed scarlet beanstalk petals with uncharacteristic patience.


    A few cauldrons over, Kalsei seemed¡­ entirely too comfortable. He moved with an ease that felt almost practiced, as if he¡¯d done this before. Soya raised an eyebrow but said nothing.


    Tiana, meanwhile, was methodical. Every slice was uniform, every measurement precise. It was like watching a machine at work.


    Seikan prowled through the room, his gaze sweeping over each student¡¯s work. Occasionally, he would stop, make a sharp correction, or simply murmur a faint ¡°acceptable¡± before moving on.


    When he reached Kalsei¡¯s cauldron, he paused.


    The silence stretched.


    Soya didn¡¯t dare turn to look, but he could feel the weight of the moment. Seikan¡¯s gaze lingered just a fraction too long before he finally moved on.


    The rest of the lesson continued with the usual intensity. Soya managed to get his potion to the right consistency¡ªbarely. Davonte¡¯s, miraculously, hadn¡¯t exploded, though it smelled faintly of burnt caramel, which was definitely not part of the process.


    Finally, Seikan lifted his hand, and the class fell into silence.


    ¡°Your potions will be tested for effectiveness.¡± His expression remained impassive as he examined the rows of completed work. ¡°Those of you who have failed¡­¡± His eyes flickered toward one unfortunate student whose potion was the color of swamp water. ¡°¡­will reflect on your incompetence and do better next time.¡±


    The student shrank in their seat.


    Without another word, Seikan dismissed them with a flick of his wrist, and the class eagerly began packing up their things.


    As they filtered out, Soya stole a glance at Kalsei.


    The new student was smirking to himself, but his golden eyes flickered with something else¡ªsomething unreadable.

 Chapter 37: Muggle Snacks

    The halls of Austramore were alive with the usual midday buzz of students moving between classes, but inside the Thylacea group, the energy was particularly high. Soya, Davonte, Draven, Kalsei, and Tiana weaved through the crowd, making their way toward their next class¡ªCharms.


    ¡°You think Professor Coorong¡¯s got something wild planned today?¡± Davonte mused, adjusting the strap of his satchel.


    ¡°Probably,¡± Draven replied. ¡°His lessons are never¡­ predictable.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s an understatement,¡± Soya muttered.


    Kalsei, still getting a feel for the school, raised an eyebrow. ¡°What¡¯s his deal?¡±


    Tiana smirked. ¡°Imagine a wizard who teaches magic like he¡¯s conducting a symphony, while also running a stand-up comedy show, and somehow manages to make actual spellwork feel like an accident waiting to happen.¡±


    ¡°Sounds fun,¡± Kalsei said, intrigued.


    As they neared the classroom, the unmistakable sound of rapid, excited chatter echoed from inside, accompanied by an occasional flutter of wings. The students shared a knowing look before stepping inside.


    The classroom was just as chaotic as expected. Charms textbooks hovered lazily in the air, flipping their own pages. Ribbons of light curled around the ceiling, shifting between neon colors. And at the center of it all stood Professor Jasper Coorong, his robes shifting between vibrant yellows and oranges, reflecting his apparent excitement.


    Perched on his shoulder was Banjo, his talkative magpie familiar, who immediately spotted the students entering.


    ¡°Look who¡¯s late! Look who¡¯s late!¡± Banjo squawked.


    ¡°We¡¯re not late,¡± Soya grumbled, finding his usual seat.


    ¡°Eh, early, late¡ªwhat¡¯s time anyway?¡± Coorong waved his hands dramatically. ¡°Illusion of structure! Fabricated nonsense! Magic doesn¡¯t obey time, does it, Banjo?¡±


    ¡°Time is fake! Fake, fake, fake!¡± Banjo cawed, fluttering his wings.


    The professor clapped his hands together. ¡°Alright, my eager young spellcasters! Today, we are going to attempt something truly magnificent! Something that will test your very souls!¡±


    Soya felt his stomach sink. This was never a good sign.


    Coorong flicked his wand, and the floating textbooks snapped shut and dropped neatly onto each desk. ¡°We¡¯ve spent weeks refining control, precision, and intent. But what is magic without a little style? Today, you¡¯re going to be learning freeform casting.¡±


    A murmur rippled through the class. Freeform casting wasn¡¯t something first-years typically attempted.


    Professor Coorong beamed. ¡°Yes, yes, I know what you¡¯re thinking! ¡®Professor, isn¡¯t this wildly irresponsible? Shouldn¡¯t we be working on structured spellwork?¡¯ Pfft!¡± He made an exaggerated shooing motion. ¡°Structured spellwork is great and all, but sometimes, you have to let magic breathe, let it sing!¡±


    Banjo flapped his wings. ¡°Sing! Sing!¡±


    Davonte grinned. ¡°I like where this is going.¡±


    Kalsei leaned toward Soya. ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s happening, but I¡¯m already a fan.¡±


    Soya sighed. ¡°Just wait.¡±


    Coorong continued, pacing dramatically. ¡°Freeform casting is about channeling magic without the rigidity of pre-structured spells. It¡¯s about feeling the flow of magic and bending it to your will. We¡¯ll start with basic elements¡ªlight, movement, air. No incantations. No rigid structure. Just you, your wand, and the raw energy of magic itself.¡±


    He flicked his wand, and the desks slid back against the walls, creating an open space in the center of the room.


    ¡°Paired practice!¡± Coorong declared. ¡°You will take turns¡ªone person channels, the other observes. Then, you switch. The goal is to generate a small effect of your choosing without relying on words.¡±


    Soya exchanged a wary glance with Davonte, while Draven was already calculating the best approach.


    Coorong grinned. ¡°Oh! And if anyone sets something on fire, please do so with style.¡±


    Soya let out a quiet groan.


    This was going to be a disaster.


    The classroom buzzed with excitement as students paired off, eager to test their ability to channel magic without spoken incantations. Professor Coorong flitted between groups like an overexcited hummingbird, offering guidance, exaggerated encouragement, and the occasional dramatic gasp when someone managed something impressive¡ªor nearly disastrous.


    Soya stood across from Davonte, gripping his wand with mild apprehension. ¡°Alright, so¡­ what exactly are we supposed to do again?¡±


    ¡°Make magic happen,¡± Davonte said simply, twirling his wand between his fingers.


    Soya narrowed his eyes. ¡°That is¡­ incredibly vague.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the point,¡± Draven interjected from his own pairing with Kalsei. ¡°It¡¯s about feeling magic, not commanding it.¡±


    Professor Coorong clapped his hands. ¡°Exactly! Let the magic guide you! Open yourself to the flow, to the rhythm! To the¡ª¡± He suddenly spun on his heel. ¡°¡ªNOT LIKE THAT, MICAH!¡±


    A first-year from Ningaloo had somehow conjured a mini cyclone above his head. Papers and ink pots flew in all directions before the spell fizzled out, leaving Micah dazed and windblown.


    ¡°My bad,¡± he muttered sheepishly.


    Coorong laughed. ¡°No such thing as mistakes in freeform casting, my boy! Just happy accidents! Though try not to launch yourself into the astral plane, eh?¡±


    Soya took a deep breath, trying to focus. He closed his eyes, willing his magic to manifest in¡­ well, anything. A spark, a breeze, a flicker of light¡ªanything that would prove he wasn¡¯t just standing there holding a fancy stick.


    A warm sensation pooled in his fingertips, and when he opened his eyes, a faint ribbon of golden light curled around his wrist. It shimmered for a moment before dissipating like mist.


    ¡°Whoa,¡± Davonte said. ¡°That was kinda cool.¡±


    Soya blinked. ¡°Did I do that?¡±


    ¡°Unless I¡¯ve suddenly developed telepathic spellcasting, I¡¯d say yes.¡±


    Before Soya could even process what had happened, Kalsei let out a surprised laugh. ¡°Uh, guys?¡±


    They turned just in time to see Draven standing there, entirely unaffected, while his shadow twisted and moved independently of him.


    The dark silhouette rippled along the floor, shifting unnaturally, stretching, curling, as if testing its newfound autonomy. It wasn¡¯t aggressive¡ªjust¡­ curious.


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    Davonte let out a low whistle. ¡°Well. That¡¯s mildly terrifying.¡±


    Draven frowned at his own shadow, then experimentally moved his arm. The shadow hesitated, then copied the movement a second later, like it was thinking about whether it should listen or not.


    ¡°That,¡± Coorong declared, suddenly right beside them, ¡°is exceptional. Controlled, subtle, and just the right amount of unnerving! Top marks, my boy!¡±


    Draven just gave a small nod, making a mental note to never accidentally do that again.


    Meanwhile, Kalsei had been watching his own wand hand with mild frustration. ¡°Okay, I know I can do this.¡±


    He exhaled slowly, tilting his wrist in a flowing motion. A faint, swirling gust of wind spiraled from his wand, twisting upward like a tiny colourful cyclone.


    Then it exploded outward, sending Soya¡¯s hair flying wildly in all directions.


    ¡°GAH¡ª¡± Soya clutched at his now gravity-defying mess of blue and pink strands. ¡°Kalsei!¡±


    Kalsei winced. ¡°Sorry, sorry! That wasn¡¯t supposed to happen.¡±


    Davonte was laughing so hard he nearly doubled over. ¡°Oh mate, you look like you got hit by a rogue peacock.¡±


    Coorong, rather than scolding, clapped his hands in delight. ¡°See? This is what I¡¯m talking about! Magic is about play! Discovery! And, apparently, accidental hair makeovers!¡±


    Banjo, the magpie, flapped his wings from his perch. ¡°Peacock! Peacock boy! HA!¡±


    Soya groaned, trying to smooth his hair back down. ¡°I swear if this stays like this, I¡¯m hexing you.¡±


    Kalsei bit back a grin. ¡°Worth it.¡±


    By the end of class, students were buzzing about their various successes and misfires. Micah managed to not summon another cyclone. Draven¡¯s shadow stopped trying to be its own person. And Soya, after some careful magic, finally got his hair to go back to normal¡ªthough Banjo wouldn¡¯t stop calling him ¡°Peacock Boy.¡±


    Coorong dismissed them with a flourish. ¡°Remember, young wizards, magic is alive! It¡¯s unpredictable! And above all¡ª¡±


    Banjo cawed loudly. ¡°IT¡¯S CHAOS!¡±


    The professor grinned. ¡°Yes, Banjo. Yes, it is.¡±


    Soya flopped onto one of the cushy chairs in the Thylacea common room, dropping his bag beside him with a huff. ¡°I am starving.¡±


    Davonte, who had just flopped onto the couch across from him, groaned. ¡°Mate, we just came from lunch.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, and we may have eaten, but I barely had a chance to enjoy it before Kalsei decided to argue with Banjo over whether or not birds have free will.¡±


    Kalsei threw his hands up. ¡°I stand by what I said! Magpies are tricksters, Coorong¡¯s got Banjo under a spell or something.¡±


    Draven shook his head. ¡°I think he just trained it, Kalsei.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t train a magpie to be a sarcastic little gremlin. They choose that life.¡±


    Soya snorted, reaching into his bag. ¡°Anyway, I¡¯ve got something better than the Great Hall food.¡± He pulled out a few brightly colored plastic packages and tossed one onto the table. ¡°Behold. Muggle snacks.¡±


    The others stared at the unfamiliar objects. Kalsei picked one up hesitantly, turning it over in his hands. ¡°What¡­ is this?¡±


    Davonte squinted at another package. ¡°Shapes? Like¡­ actual shapes? This bag just says Shapes on it.¡±


    Soya grinned. ¡°Trust me. Just eat them.¡±


    Kalsei shrugged and tore open the package he was holding. He peered inside, pulled out a Tim Tam, and took a bite. He chewed for a second, eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the flavor.


    Then he stopped.


    His pupils dilated.


    His fingers clenched around the package.


    ¡°What¡­ what is this sorcery?¡± Kalsei whispered.


    Davonte snatched the package out of his hands and looked at the label. ¡°Tim Tams? What kinda name is Tim Tam?¡± He popped one into his mouth, chewing skeptically.


    Then his eyebrows shot up. ¡°Ohhhhhh. Oh, this is¡­ dangerous.¡±


    Soya smirked. ¡°Wait until you try the Tim Tam Slam.¡±


    Kalsei leaned forward aggressively. ¡°The what?¡±


    ¡°You bite off opposite corners and then use it like a straw with hot chocolate.¡±


    The room fell silent.


    ¡°You mean to tell me,¡± Kalsei said slowly, ¡°that not only does this exist, but it gets better?¡±


    Draven, meanwhile, had chosen a different package, cautiously tearing it open. ¡°What¡¯s a¡­ Caramello Koala?¡± He pulled out the small chocolate in the shape of a cartoonish koala and studied it.


    Soya shrugged. ¡°Just eat it.¡±


    Draven bit into it, then froze. His usual neutral expression wavered. His lips pressed together. Slowly, he placed the half-eaten koala on a napkin, folded his hands, and whispered, ¡°I was unprepared for this.¡±


    Davonte was busy munching on Shapes, nodding approvingly. ¡°Okay, yeah, these are elite. Why don¡¯t wizards have these?¡±


    ¡°Because y¡¯all are still eating rock cakes like it¡¯s the medieval ages,¡± Soya said, tossing a bag of Cherry Ripe onto the table.


    Kalsei picked it up, examining it. ¡°What¡¯s this one?¡±


    ¡°Chocolate, coconut, and cherry.¡±


    Kalsei popped a piece into his mouth, chewed¡ªthen immediately made a face. ¡°Oh, no. No, I hate that. Who decided cherry and coconut should be friends?¡±


    Soya laughed. ¡°Not for everyone, I guess.¡±


    Draven, seemingly recovered from his Caramello Koala experience, picked up a Wagon Wheel and read the package. ¡°Marshmallow¡­ biscuit¡­ chocolate?¡± He took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, then gave an approving nod.


    Davonte suddenly sat up. ¡°Wait¡ªdo you have fairy bread?¡±


    Soya grinned. ¡°I don¡¯t, but if you get me some bread and butter, I do have the hundreds and thousands.¡±


    Kalsei blinked. ¡°What¡¯s fairy bread?¡±


    Davonte looked disappointed. ¡°I don¡¯t know what it is; but I¡¯ve heard of it. It sounds magical.¡±


    ¡°I grew up in Japan.¡±


    ¡°I grew up in Germany.¡± Davonte added casually, as though it was common knowledge.


    Soya chuckled, popping a Tim Tam into his mouth. ¡°Alright, we¡¯ll make some later. Consider it a cultural exchange.¡±


    Kalsei, looking mildly disturbed but intrigued, nodded. ¡°Fine. But only if I get more of these Tim Tams.¡±


    Soya smirked. ¡°Deal.¡±


    Kalsei, still buzzing from the discovery of Tim Tams, leaned back in his chair and grinned. His eyes flicked over to Tiana, who had been sitting quietly to the side, watching the chaos unfold with her usual composed expression.


    He raised an eyebrow. ¡°Oi, Tiana. You¡¯ve been sittin¡¯ there judging us this whole time, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    She tilted her head slightly, amusement flickering in her gaze. ¡°Observing.¡±


    ¡°Same thing,¡± Kalsei shot back. He grabbed another Tim Tam and waved it in her direction. ¡°C¡¯mon, you gotta try one.¡±


    Tiana exhaled softly, as if debating whether or not she wanted to be dragged into this nonsense. ¡°I don¡¯t eat much sugar.¡±


    Davonte gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. ¡°You poor, poor soul.¡±


    Draven, still composed but noticeably more invested in the snacks now, nodded. ¡°It would be a shame not to experience at least one of these.¡±


    Soya smirked, shaking a bag of Shapes. ¡°Or, y¡¯know, something savoury if you don¡¯t want sweets. But Kalsei won¡¯t let you leave until you eat something.¡±


    Kalsei crossed his arms. ¡°It¡¯s about the experience. We¡¯re broadening our horizons here.¡±


    Tiana sighed through her nose, closing the book she had been pretending to read. ¡°Fine.¡±


    Kalsei immediately perked up, grabbing a Caramello Koala and holding it out to her with an exaggerated flourish. ¡°Here. It¡¯s a tiny chocolate koala filled with caramel. What¡¯s not to love?¡±


    Tiana took it, turning the small chocolate over in her fingers before breaking off a piece and popping it into her mouth. The group watched her expectantly.


    She chewed. Paused. Considered.


    Then, after a long moment, she gave the tiniest nod. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ acceptable.¡±


    Kalsei threw his hands in the air. ¡°Acceptable? That¡¯s it? You just ate liquid gold wrapped in chocolate, and all you¡¯ve got for me is acceptable?¡±


    Tiana lifted an eyebrow. ¡°Would you prefer I lie?¡±


    Davonte snorted. ¡°Careful, Kalsei, I think that¡¯s as close as you¡¯re getting to a compliment.¡±


    Draven, still in his usual analytical mode, glanced at the snacks. ¡°Perhaps something less sweet would be more to her liking.¡± He picked up the bag of Shapes and shook it lightly. ¡°These, for example.¡±


    Tiana accepted the bag from Draven, tore it open neatly, and took a single biscuit. She chewed thoughtfully, her expression unreadable.


    Then, she reached into the bag for another.


    Kalsei narrowed his eyes. ¡°You like those, don¡¯t you?¡±


    Tiana ignored him, delicately selecting another Shape and eating it without answering.


    Soya grinned. ¡°She likes ¡®em.¡±


    Davonte laughed. ¡°Oh yeah, that¡¯s the face of someone who just found a new addiction.¡±


    Tiana finally spoke, her voice cool but firm. ¡°They¡¯re¡­ acceptable.¡±


    Kalsei groaned, slumping back in his chair. ¡°Oh, for¡ªjust admit you like them!¡±


    Tiana calmly placed the bag beside her and opened her book again. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about.¡±


    Draven smirked slightly, watching as she stealthily reached for another Shape without looking up from her book.


    Soya leaned over to Davonte. ¡°Do we tell her she¡¯s taking them home with her, or let her figure it out later?¡±


    Davonte grinned. ¡°Oh, definitely let her figure it out later.¡±

 Chapter 38: From The Shadows

    Soya sat alone beneath the gnarled branches of a towering ghost gum, savoring the quiet. He liked having the new arrivals around¡ªKalsei and Tiana had slotted into their group easily¡ªbut with more people came more noise, more energy, and sometimes, more than he had the patience for. Weekends were his excuse to step away, to find a moment of stillness.


    His sketchbook balanced on his lap, ink-stained fingertips moving with practiced ease as he captured the way the wind wove through the leaves. The world faded around him, the sounds of the school dulling into nothing as he lost himself in the lines and shading. The strokes took shape almost on their own, the beginnings of a scene he hadn¡¯t fully decided on, just letting the image emerge as it wanted. Drawing had always been his escape.


    A group of students walked past, their conversation fading as they cast brief, uninterested glances at him. No one truly paid him much attention.


    Which was why, when the sharp voice cut through the air behind him, Soya felt a cold prickle run down his spine.


    ¡°Surprised you¡¯re even still here, Muggle-born.¡±


    Soya didn¡¯t react at first, keeping his head lowered as he continued sketching. Maybe if he ignored it, they¡¯d lose interest. Maybe if he acted like he didn¡¯t hear¡ª


    ¡°Flipendo!¡±


    A sudden burst of force yanked his sketchbook from his hands. It flipped through the air before landing on the dirt with a thud. Ink smudged across the page, the scene he had been working on ruined by the careless impact.


    Soya¡¯s breath hitched, his hands clenching into fists.


    The boy standing before him¡ªOrin Thorn, if he recalled correctly¡ªgrinned, wand still raised. ¡°What¡¯s the matter? Didn¡¯t see that coming? Maybe you should¡¯ve drawn yourself with a bit more of a spine.¡± He chuckled, glancing back toward his two snickering friends, emboldened by their presence.


    Soya exhaled slowly. He wasn¡¯t about to give them the reaction they wanted. Keeping his movements deliberate, he bent to pick up his sketchbook, brushing the dirt from the ruined page. His fingers trembled slightly, but he kept his face neutral. ¡°You done?¡± he muttered, turning the page as if none of it mattered.


    Orin¡¯s smirk faltered. ¡°Oh, we¡¯re just getting started.¡± His grip on his wand tightened. ¡°Let¡¯s see what happens when we give our little Muggle-born artist some real inspiration. Depuls¡ª¡±


    But he never got the chance to cast it fully.


    A crackle of energy split the air, and then¡ª


    ¡°Confringo!¡±


    A violent burst of orange-red light shot from behind Orin, slamming into his back with the force of a whipcrack. He was thrown forward, sprawling face-first into the dirt with a strangled gasp. His wand tumbled from his grip, rolling uselessly across the ground.


    Silence fell.


    Soya stared, heart pounding, as a figure emerged from the shadows of the trees. She moved with the deliberate, languid grace of a predator, her blue eyes gleaming with barely restrained fury. Lykaios.


    The atmosphere shifted, the weight of her presence pressing down like a suffocating force. Even Orin¡¯s friends, who had been so quick to laugh before, hesitated now, their eyes darting between their fallen leader and the girl approaching with slow, measured steps.


    Orin groaned, pushing himself up, dirt streaked across his face. ¡°What the hell¡ª¡±


    ¡°Did I give you permission to speak?¡± Lykaios¡¯ voice was soft, but it carried a dangerous edge, coiled tight like a serpent waiting to strike.


    Orin turned, his expression twisting with anger, but before he could fully regain his bearings, Lykaios raised her wand again, her blue eyes flashing with venomous amusement. ¡°Furnunculus.¡±


    A sickening squelch filled the air as painful, swollen boils erupted across Orin¡¯s arms and face. He let out a strangled yelp, clutching at his skin as the welts spread, bubbling grotesquely across his flesh.


    His friends took a step back, their confidence evaporating.


    Lykaios tilted her head slightly, watching Orin writhe. There was no hesitation, no ounce of regret. If anything, she looked as though she were merely admiring the effects of her work, cold and calculating. ¡°You like using magic to play games with people who don''t fight back?¡± she asked, her voice silky smooth. ¡°Not so fun when it¡¯s turned on you, is it?¡±


    Soya finally found his voice. ¡°That¡¯s enough.¡±


    Lykaios blinked, her attention shifting to him for the first time. The sharpness in her gaze dulled just slightly, but the amusement remained. ¡°Is it?¡±


    Orin wheezed in pain, still clawing at his skin. His friends looked frozen between wanting to help him and knowing that stepping in might bring Lykaios¡¯ wrath upon them next.


    Soya exhaled through his nose, closing his sketchbook with a snap. He wasn¡¯t about to plead on Orin¡¯s behalf, but he also wasn¡¯t comfortable standing by and watching this escalate into something worse. He looked back at Lykaios, meeting her gaze. ¡°You made your point.¡±


    For a long moment, she simply stared at him. Then, with an almost disappointed sigh, she flicked her wand lazily. ¡°Finite Incantatem.¡±


    The boils began to shrink, leaving Orin gasping in relief as the pain faded. He didn¡¯t thank her. He simply grabbed his wand and scrambled to his feet, face burning with humiliation as he backed away.


    Lykaios smirked. ¡°Run along now.¡±


    Orin didn¡¯t need to be told twice. He and his friends turned and hurried off, their bravado shattered.


    Once they were gone, silence settled between Soya and Lykaios. The tension that had coiled so tightly around her seemed to ease, but only just.


    She studied him, as if assessing something unseen, then clicked her tongue. ¡°You should be more careful. You attract pests.¡±


    Soya stared at her for a beat before exhaling a laugh. ¡°Yeah, well¡­ thanks, I guess.¡±


    Lykaios said nothing. She merely gave him one last unreadable glance before turning on her heel and walking away. As she did, her voice drifted back to him, cool and assured.


    "You''re not as weak as you think. Maybe you don¡¯t even realize it yet, but I do."


    After a moment, he let out a slow breath and rose to his feet, brushing stray leaves from his robes as he turned toward the castle. The crisp afternoon air clung to his skin as he walked, his steps quiet against the stone pathways leading back inside. His mind was still racing, replaying every moment of what had just happened¡ªOrin¡¯s sneering face, Lykaios¡¯ effortless cruelty, the way she had looked at him like she knew something he didn¡¯t.


    The familiar hum of the castle surrounded him as he moved through the halls, the murmur of weekend conversations drifting from open doorways. A few students passed him, lost in their own worlds, their laughter and idle chatter a stark contrast to the storm still churning in his head.


    Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the entrance to the Thylacea common room.


    Soya pushed open the heavy wooden door to the Thylacea common room, stepping into the familiar warmth of flickering lantern light and the low hum of students talking. The scent of parchment, wood smoke, and the faintest hint of someone¡¯s stolen bakery snacks lingered in the air. A few younger students were curled up in oversized armchairs, while others huddled over their textbooks, pretending to study while sneaking glances at a raucous game of Wizard¡¯s Chess happening near the fireplace.


    But Soya wasn¡¯t focused on any of that. His heart was still hammering, the weight of his sketchbook pressed tightly to his chest as he scanned the room for familiar faces. He spotted them instantly¡ªDavonte, Draven, Kalsei, and Tiana¡ªseated around their usual corner table, deep in conversation.


    Before he could make his way over, Davonte¡¯s eyes flicked up, immediately narrowing in on him. ¡°Mate, what happened to you?¡± he called, sitting up straighter. ¡°You look like you just saw a bloody Bunyip.¡±


    Soya sighed, dropping into the empty chair between Kalsei and Draven. ¡°Not saw one,¡± he muttered, running a hand through his hair. ¡°More like¡­ barely avoided being fed to one.¡±


    That got their attention.


    Kalsei leaned forward, golden eyes glinting with curiosity. ¡°Oh, this I gotta hear.¡±


    Tiana didn¡¯t say anything, but she quietly set down her quill, giving Soya her full attention. Draven merely steepled his fingers, waiting.


    Soya exhaled, shifting his sketchbook onto the table. ¡°Orin Thorn and his little band of idiots decided to make my afternoon their personal entertainment.¡±


    Davonte groaned, already looking annoyed. ¡°That absolute tosspot. What did he do this time?¡±


    Soya hesitated, then tapped the closed cover of his sketchbook. ¡°Flipped this right out of my hands with Flipendo. Ruined my drawing. Then tried to hex me.¡±


    Silence. Then¡ª


    Kalsei blinked, a slow grin spreading across his face. ¡°And you¡¯re sitting here? Not buried in the dirt somewhere? What happened?¡±


    Soya hesitated again, fingers tightening around his sketchbook. He wasn¡¯t sure how to explain what came next without making it sound even more insane than it already was.


    ¡°¡­Lykaios happened,¡± he finally said.


    That got an immediate reaction.


    Draven¡¯s normally impassive expression shifted just slightly¡ªsharp, calculating.


    Tiana straightened. ¡°Lykaios Verelle?¡±


    Davonte visibly paled. ¡°You¡ªwait, what?¡±


    Even Kalsei, who had been fully prepared to enjoy whatever revenge story was coming, stopped grinning. ¡°Hold on. Lykaios? As in Sevrin¡¯s terrifying, ¡®I-might-stab-you-just-to-see-what-happens¡¯ older sister?¡±


    ¡°The very same,¡± Soya muttered.


    Another round of silence. Then¡ª


    ¡°Oh. Oh, that¡¯s bad,¡± Davonte groaned, dragging a hand down his face.


    ¡°She hexed Orin,¡± Soya continued, ignoring Davonte¡¯s dramatics. ¡°Knocked him flat with Confringo before he could finish his spell. Then hit him with Furnunculus for good measure.¡±


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    Tiana let out a quiet breath through her nose. ¡°That¡¯s excessive.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s Lykaios,¡± Draven murmured.


    Kalsei whistled, looking almost impressed. ¡°So, what? She just¡ªwhat, saved you? And then strolled off?¡±


    Soya hesitated again, remembering the way she had stared at him, like she was searching for something only she could see.


    ¡°Not quite,¡± he admitted. ¡°She said something before she left.¡±


    Draven¡¯s gaze sharpened. ¡°What?¡±


    Soya glanced between them, feeling a faint sense of unease even as he repeated it.


    ¡°She said, ¡®You¡¯re not as weak as you think. Maybe you don¡¯t even realize it yet, but I do.¡¯¡±


    Another silence fell over the group.


    Tiana¡¯s brows knitted together in thought. Davonte looked deeply uncomfortable. Kalsei just looked amused.


    Draven, however, was studying Soya, his grey eyes unreadable.


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ interesting,¡± he finally murmured.


    Davonte made an incredulous noise. ¡°No, that¡¯s bloody terrifying.¡±


    Kalsei smirked. ¡°I dunno, I kinda like her style.¡±


    Tiana sighed. ¡°This isn¡¯t about style, Detra.¡± She turned to Soya. ¡°It sounds like she¡¯s paying attention to you. That¡¯s¡­ not exactly a good thing.¡±


    Soya let out a tired laugh. ¡°Trust me, I figured that out about five seconds after she nearly flayed Orin alive.¡±


    Draven finally spoke again. ¡°Whatever she sees in you, you should be careful. Lykaios Verelle doesn¡¯t give compliments. And if she¡¯s taking an interest in you¡­¡± His fingers tapped idly against the table. ¡°It means she thinks you¡¯re useful.¡±


    That thought didn¡¯t sit well with Soya at all.


    ¡°¡­Yeah,¡± he muttered, staring down at his sketchbook. ¡°I got that feeling too.¡±


    The weight of the conversation still lingered, hanging over them like an unseen specter. Soya traced absent-minded patterns on the cover of his sketchbook, his mind looping back to Lykaios¡¯ words, to the way she had looked at him, as if she knew something about him that even he didn¡¯t.


    Kalsei suddenly smacked his palms down on the table, breaking the silence with a loud crack. ¡°Alright! Enough brooding! It¡¯s Saturday, and I refuse to spend the whole day sitting in here listening to Soya mope about his new personal stalker.¡±


    Soya blinked. ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    Davonte immediately perked up, leaning forward with a grin. ¡°Ohhh, I like where this is going.¡±


    Kalsei pointed at him. ¡°See? Davonte gets it.¡±


    Draven sighed, already looking exhausted. ¡°Kalsei, what exactly are you about to suggest?¡±


    Kalsei leaned back in his chair, grinning like he had just thought of the greatest idea in history. ¡°We need a proper distraction. Something fun. Something thrilling. Something that¡¯ll make Soya forget all about this ¡®Oh no, why is the scary Verelle girl looking at me like I¡¯m a cryptic puzzle she wants to solve¡¯ nonsense.¡±


    Soya scowled. ¡°That is not how I phrased it.¡±


    Davonte was already fully on board. ¡°Yeah, yeah, I¡¯m with you. What¡¯s the plan? Please say it involves something stupid.¡±


    Kalsei¡¯s golden eyes practically sparkled. ¡°Oh, it absolutely does.¡±


    Tiana, who had been quietly observing, let out a slow sigh. ¡°I can already feel a headache coming on.¡±


    Draven pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°If you two idiots get us banned from something again¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh, that was a one-time thing,¡± Davonte interrupted.


    Tiana gave him a pointed look. ¡°It was not a one-time thing.¡±


    ¡°Alright, fine, but it wasn¡¯t my fault last time!¡±


    ¡°It was absolutely your fault last time.¡±


    ¡°Okay, that¡¯s fair.¡±


    Kalsei ignored all of them, standing dramatically and pointing toward the common room exit. ¡°Tideball Stadium. Right now.¡±


    Soya stared. ¡°You¡¯re serious?¡±


    ¡°Dead serious.¡±


    Davonte slammed his hands on the table too, mirroring Kalsei¡¯s energy. ¡°I love this. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    Soya exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. ¡°I hate this.¡±


    Kalsei grinned. ¡°No, you don¡¯t.¡±


    Draven muttered something about regretting every life decision that led him to this moment, while Tiana merely resigned herself to the chaos unfolding before her.


    ¡°Fine,¡± Soya finally said, standing up and grabbing his sketchbook. ¡°But if I die today, I¡¯m haunting all of you.¡±


    Davonte slung an arm over his shoulder. ¡°That¡¯s the spirit! Let¡¯s go ruin our knees and make some bad decisions!¡±


    They all left the common room, making their way through the castle towards the outside, towards the stadium.


    The Tideball stadium was alive with movement, the dome-shaped underwater arena shimmering beneath the magically reinforced surface. Blue light refracted through the water, casting shifting patterns over the students gathering along the floating platforms at the edge of the pool.


    A few older prefects lounged near the entrance, keeping a loose watch over things, but otherwise, the game was entirely student-run.


    Kalsei grinned, stretching his arms as he surveyed the floating goal vortex shifting unpredictably in the center of the field. ¡°Alright, Soya, since I¡¯m basically doing you a public service by dragging you here, we¡¯re making this interesting.¡±


    Soya raised a skeptical brow. ¡°And by ¡®interesting¡¯ you mean ¡®a terrible idea that will get me drowned?¡¯¡±


    Kalsei laughed, throwing an arm around his shoulder. ¡°Come on, we¡¯ve been here two weeks now, and you haven¡¯t even let me show off yet. That¡¯s just rude, Buddy.¡±


    Tiana sighed from where she was adjusting the straps of her Dolphin Sprite¡¯s saddle. ¡°I hate that you said that as if the school should be grateful for your presence.¡±


    Davonte perched on the edge of the dock, already bouncing with excitement. ¡°Oi, we picking teams or what? Let¡¯s go, let¡¯s go.¡±


    Draven, who was standing very pointedly on dry land, crossed his arms. ¡°I¡¯ll watch.¡±


    Kalsei scoffed. ¡°No faith in your athletic ability?¡±


    ¡°No faith in your competence.¡±


    Davonte clapped his hands together. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s do three-on-three. Me, Soya, and Tiana versus Kalsei, Micah, and Alya.¡±


    Micah, a tall Ningaloo student, grinned as he climbed onto his Manta Ray, while Alya adjusted the water-resistant gloves on her hands, already eager to play.


    ¡°Fine,¡± Kalsei smirked, hopping onto a Seahorse mount like he¡¯d done it a hundred times before. ¡°But when we wipe the floor with you, I want full recognition of my greatness.¡±


    Soya rolled his eyes, settling onto his own Dolphin Sprite. ¡°You¡¯ve been here two weeks and you already have an ego about this game.¡±


    Kalsei¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Of course I do.¡±


    The Tide Orb pulsed with energy, floating weightlessly as the game started.


    Soya shot forward, his mount cutting smoothly through the water, while Kalsei immediately shot past him with unnatural speed, casting a Speed Surge charm mid-dive.


    ¡°Tiana, cover me!¡± Davonte called, intercepting an early pass from Micah before spinning his mount sharply to evade Kalsei.


    Tiana, ever precise, altered the water currents with a quick flick of her wand, making it harder for Kalsei to maneuver.


    Soya kept his eye on the floating vortex, tracking its erratic movement. He was playing as a Shooter, meaning it was his job to score¡ªnot get tangled up in chaos.


    Unfortunately, chaos was Kalsei¡¯s specialty.


    ¡°Oi, Soya!¡± Kalsei called from directly behind him, right before bumping his Seahorse mount just enough to throw Soya off balance.


    Soya nearly lost his grip on the orb, turning just in time to see Kalsei grinning like a madman.


    ¡°Oh, you absolute menace¡ª¡±


    Kalsei stole the orb right out of his hands.


    ¡°KALSEI!¡±


    Davonte laughed mid-dive while Kalsei shot forward toward the vortex, weaving through shifting currents with obnoxious ease.


    Micah sent a boost charm his way, and Alya cast an Orb Shield spell, making it harder to intercept.


    Kalsei launched the orb toward the vortex at an impossible angle¡ª


    And scored.


    The magical arena flashed with golden light, signaling the point.


    Kalsei spread his arms as if he had just won an international championship. ¡°I AM A LEGEND.¡±


    Soya groaned, already regretting this.


    Tiana, ever composed, merely sighed. ¡°I hate that he¡¯s actually good at this.¡±


    Draven, watching from the sidelines, shook his head. ¡°I told you.¡±


    ¡°Oi, round two!¡± Davonte called, already grabbing the resetting Tide Orb.


    Soya took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders. Fine. If Kalsei wanted a match, he was getting one.


    The Tide Orb reset, floating weightlessly in the center of the field as the players circled it like predators waiting for the right moment to strike. The water shimmered with enchantments, currents shifting at unpredictable intervals, forcing players to constantly adjust their positioning.


    Soya gripped the reins of his Dolphin Sprite, eyes locked on the orb. He wasn¡¯t about to let Kalsei get the upper hand again.


    Kalsei, of course, was grinning like a menace. ¡°Round two, Let''s go!.¡±


    Davonte cracked his knuckles, his Manta Ray flexing its wings as it glided beside him. ¡°Alright, let''s make this hurt.¡±


    A whistle from the prefect watching the game signaled the next play, and¡ª


    The Tide Orb dropped.


    Soya moved first.


    With a burst of speed, he shot forward, narrowly beating Micah to the orb. He scooped it up with one smooth motion, his mount twisting under him as he changed direction.


    ¡°Pass me!¡± Davonte called, already dipping low beneath a strong current.


    Soya faked a pass¡ªthen jerked upward, spinning his mount sharply as Micah lunged to intercept.


    Micah missed.


    ¡°Oi, Soya¡¯s actually playing properly now?¡± Kalsei taunted, cutting through the water with frustratingly natural ease.


    Soya threw the orb to Tiana just before Kalsei barreled into him, nearly knocking him off his mount.


    Tiana caught the orb one-handed, her expression as calm as ever, before whipping it straight at the vortex.


    Alya moved to block but Davonte shot forward, pushing through a strong current, and knocked her trajectory off with a last-second spell.


    The orb slipped through and scored.


    The vortex flashed blue¡ª10 points.


    ¡°Yes!¡± Davonte pumped his fist. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m talking about!¡±


    Soya smirked, catching his breath. ¡°Not bad.¡±


    Kalsei snorted. ¡°Alright, alright, you got lucky that time.¡±


    Tiana, ever precise, simply flicked the water off her gloves. ¡°Luck had nothing to do with it.¡±


    With the score tied, both teams went all in.


    Kalsei played like a complete showboat, weaving through defenders with effortless speed, even tossing the orb behind his back just to taunt Soya.


    Micah used his Interceptor role perfectly, stealing passes before Soya or Davonte could react.


    Tiana kept the game under control with calculated water-current spells, making every play as efficient as possible.


    At one point, Alya nearly scored with a tricky side-shot, but Davonte deflected it last second, sending the orb spinning away.


    Soya dove after it, grabbing it just before Micah could steal.


    ¡°Oi, Soya, don¡¯t choke!¡± Kalsei called, right on his tail.


    Soya ignored him, adjusting his position, waiting¡ª


    The vortex shifted mid-play, moving slightly to the right.


    Soya saw the opportunity.


    He angled his mount upward, faking a shot. Kalsei went to block¡ª


    And Soya flicked the orb behind him, right into Davonte¡¯s waiting hands.


    ¡°Gotcha.¡±


    Davonte grinned.


    He shot forward, aimed, and fired.


    The orb curved perfectly through the moving vortex¡ªbonus points.


    The vortex flashed gold¡ª15 points.


    Kalsei groaned loudly. ¡°OH, COME ON.¡±


    Davonte let out a victorious laugh, fist-pumping the water. ¡°That¡¯s how it¡¯s done!¡±


    Soya smirked, finally feeling like himself again.


    With only a minute left, both teams pushed their limits.


    Kalsei, determined to even the score, went for one final play.


    Micah blocked Tiana, giving Kalsei the opening he needed.


    He stole the orb mid-pass and immediately cast Speed Surge, launching his Seahorse mount forward.


    Soya saw it happening and moved to intercept.


    But Kalsei was too fast.


    He dodged two defenders, launched himself upward, and threw the orb¡ª


    The vortex shifted at the last second.


    Everyone watched as the orb curved¡ª


    It caught the vortex at an impossible angle¡ª


    And went in.


    The vortex pulsed bright red¡ª20 points.


    The game-ending whistle blew.


    Kalsei, floating in the water, threw his arms up like he had just won the World Cup. ¡°THAT¡¯S RIGHT! YOU CAN¡¯T STOP ME! I AM THE TIDEBALL CHAMPION!¡±


    Davonte groaned. ¡°I hate that that actually worked.¡±


    Soya sighed, rubbing his temple. ¡°I hate that I¡¯m impressed.¡±


    Tiana exhaled sharply, shaking her head. ¡°That should not have gone in.¡±


    Draven, from the sidelines, simply shook his head. ¡°You¡¯re all insufferable.¡±


    They dragged themselves out of the pool, exhausted but buzzing from the match.


    Soya ran a hand through his wet hair, breathing hard but feeling better than he had in days.


    Kalsei threw an arm over his shoulder. ¡°See? Told you this was a good idea.¡±


    Soya rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile on his lips. ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡±


    Davonte stretched his arms. ¡°Alright, who¡¯s up for snacks? I need food after that.¡±


    ¡°Seconded,¡± Tiana agreed.

 Chapter 39: Goodbyes

    The soft rustling of parchment and the occasional scratch of quills filled the Austramore library, the morning light filtering through enchanted stained-glass windows, casting shifting patterns across the long wooden tables. It was Sunday, the second and final day of the weekend, which meant the usual mix of students¡ªsome scrambling to finish assignments, others pretending to study while gossiping in hushed voices.


    At one of the larger tables near the back, Soya, Draven, Davonte, Kalsei, and Tiana sat with their books open, though only half of them seemed to be making any real progress.


    Kalsei sighed dramatically, flipping through a book with the enthusiasm of someone being forced to do manual labor. ¡°Alright, I need someone to explain why we¡¯re wasting a perfectly good Sunday doing schoolwork.¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be complaining if you weren¡¯t still trying to figure out how to write Runes properly,¡± Tiana remarked without looking up from her neatly organized notes.


    Kalsei scoffed. ¡°I¡¯ve only been here two weeks, I think I¡¯m allowed to still be confused by why some of these things look the same but mean completely different things.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re lucky you weren¡¯t here while the ministry was still around,¡± Soya said, twirling his quill between his fingers.


    Davonte grinned. ¡°Oh yeah, you missed some real disasters.¡±


    Tiana raised an eyebrow. ¡°Like?¡±


    Davonte leaned back in his chair, smirking. ¡°Like the time Professor Coorong tried to teach us Airwriting Charms and nearly blew himself out the window.¡±


    Kalsei perked up instantly. ¡°I need to hear this.¡±


    Draven sighed, rubbing his temple. ¡°It was meant to be a creative exercise. Coorong thought it would be fun to teach us how to write words in the air using controlled gusts of wind.¡±


    Soya smirked. ¡°In theory, a cool idea.¡±


    ¡°In reality?¡± Davonte added, grinning. ¡°Coorong told everyone to ¡®think big, be expressive¡¯¡ªso some people started writing whole sentences in the air.¡±


    Kalsei nodded. ¡°Alright, so where does it go wrong?¡±


    Draven closed his book, looking deeply unimpressed. ¡°Soya decided he wanted to ¡®experiment¡¯ and wrote way too fast.¡±


    Soya held up a finger. ¡°In my defense, I thought the spell would slow it down.¡±


    Tiana stared. ¡°And?¡±


    Soya sighed. ¡°Turns out if you write too quickly, the wind gets¡­ a bit aggressive.¡±


    ¡°Aggressive?¡± Kalsei repeated, intrigued.


    Davonte grinned. ¡°The gust rebounded off the walls, blew over half the desks, and sent Coorong himself rolling backward like a tumbleweed.¡±


    Kalsei slammed his hands on the table, laughing. ¡°No. Absolutely not. You¡¯re telling me you wind-blasted the professor?¡±


    Draven looked exhausted just remembering it. ¡°He was still laughing while rolling.¡±


    ¡°Oh, he loved it,¡± Davonte added. ¡°Said it was ¡®an unexpected display of magical enthusiasm.¡¯¡±


    Kalsei wiped a tear from his eye. ¡°I regret missing this.¡±


    ¡°You should regret nothing,¡± Draven muttered. ¡°That class was a nightmare.¡±


    ¡°Oh, trust me, that¡¯s not even the worst thing that¡¯s happened,¡± Soya smirked. ¡°Ask Davonte about the Potions lesson that ended with him covered in goo.¡±


    Davonte immediately sat up. ¡°Nope. We¡¯re done here.¡±


    Tiana and Kalsei both turned to him expectantly.


    ¡°Yeah, you absolutely have to tell us now,¡± Kalsei said.


    Draven closed his book with a quiet thump. ¡°It was¡­ an experience.¡±


    Davonte slumped forward onto the table. ¡°I hate all of you.¡±


    Laughter lingered at the edges of their conversation, the morning slowly slipping away as they fell into an easy rhythm of half-studying, half-swapping ridiculous stories. Kalsei, still grinning from the tales of Coorong¡¯s wind disaster and Davonte¡¯s failed Potions attempt, leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table.


    ¡°Alright, but seriously,¡± he said, flipping a quill between his fingers, ¡°this place has to be cursed. There¡¯s no way a school has this many ridiculous incidents and just calls it ¡®normal wizarding education.¡¯¡±


    ¡°You say that like it isn¡¯t completely expected,¡± Soya said, resting his chin in his palm.


    ¡°I expected some chaos,¡± Kalsei admitted. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect whatever this is.¡±


    Tiana, still methodically jotting down notes, barely looked up. ¡°You haven¡¯t even been here long enough to see the real disasters.¡±


    Kalsei raised an eyebrow. ¡°Oh? You mean worse than wind-blasting a professor into a bookshelf?¡±


    Soya smirked. ¡°Much worse.¡±


    And, as if the universe had been waiting to prove them right, a voice louder than it had any right to be rang through the library:


    ¡°BEHOLD, THE GREAT DAVONTE EVANDER, MASTER OF CHAOS!¡±


    All five of them froze.


    Kalsei snapped his head around. ¡°...Please tell me that wasn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°It was,¡± Draven muttered.


    From the far end of the library, near an increasingly distressed Salem Blackthorn, a small, furry figure was standing upright on a table, its tiny paws dramatically gesturing as if performing for an audience.


    ¡°DO NOT LOOK AWAY, FOR YOU WILL MISS THE GLORY OF HIS PRESENCE!¡±


    Soya blinked. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ the ferret, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the ferret,¡± Draven confirmed.


    Kalsei looked delighted. ¡°It talks?¡±


    Soya exhaled. ¡°It does now.¡±


    The ferret, oblivious to the growing horror and amusement surrounding it, continued narrating with absolute confidence.


    ¡°AND SO, THE MIGHTY DAVONTE EVANDER, BANE OF RESPONSIBILITY, TAKES HIS SEAT, READY TO¡ª¡±


    A frantic Salem grabbed the creature and clamped a hand over its tiny mouth. ¡°I can fix it.¡±


    Davonte, however, looked far too entertained. ¡°Absolutely not.¡±


    Salem, pale and looking one spell away from a nervous breakdown, held up his wand. ¡°I was trying to make it behave!¡±


    Soya tilted his head. ¡°You thought enchanting Davonte¡¯s ferret would go well?¡±


    ¡°I thought it would calm down! Not¡ªthis!¡±


    The moment Salem loosened his grip, the ferret broke free and resumed its performance.


    ¡°DO YOU HEAR THE WORDS OF DESTINY? DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE GREATNESS BEFORE YOU?¡±


    Kalsei, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, leaned over to Davonte. ¡°Friend, this is the best thing that¡¯s ever happened to you.¡±


    Davonte beamed. ¡°I know, right?¡±


    Tiana massaged her temples. ¡°Please tell me this isn¡¯t permanent.¡±


    Salem looked like a man in distress. ¡°I¡ªI don¡¯t know. The spell¡­ rebounded. It¡¯s acting on its own.¡±


    ¡°BEHOLD, THE UNBREAKABLE WILL OF DAVONTE EVANDER!¡±


    Soya stared at the ferret. ¡°I am so sorry, but this is amazing.¡±


    Draven, rubbing his temples, muttered, ¡°We are never going to get work done today.¡±


    Kalsei, still laughing, leaned back in his chair. ¡°You think Coorong would let you take it to class?¡±


    Davonte grinned. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m absolutely trying.¡±


    Salem, muttering under his breath, started flipping through his spellbook. ¡°This is a nightmare.¡±


    And as the talking ferret continued its dramatic proclamations, their studying session officially dissolved into chaos.


    The library had long since dissolved into barely managed chaos, with Davonte¡¯s dramatically self-aware ferret narrating his every move and Kalsei finding far too much amusement in the situation. Salem, still flipping through his spellbook, looked about two seconds away from a full existential crisis trying to undo his own mistake.


    Soya, on the other hand, was half-listening while attempting to actually finish his notes.


    ¡°AND NOW, THE GLORIOUS DAVONTE EVANDER SHALL TURN THE PAGE, A DECISION THAT WILL RESHAPE THE FUTURE OF HIS SCHOLARLY JOURNEY¡ª¡±


    Davonte paused mid-turn. ¡°Honestly? This is making me feel very important.¡±


    Tiana, without looking up, sighed. ¡°I hate that you like this.¡±


    Soya smirked but before he could comment, a shadow fell over their table.


    ¡°Evander. Vareen.¡±


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Soya glanced up, recognizing the badge of a Yarramundi prefect pinned to the older student¡¯s robe.


    Davonte, casually, leaned back in his chair. ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°The Headmaster has requested your presence. Both of you.¡±


    The conversation at the table immediately quieted.


    Soya felt the shift in the air¡ªthe sudden weight of something more serious.


    Kalsei sat up a little straighter, the amusement in his face dimming just slightly. ¡°Oof. That sounds ominous.¡±


    Davonte scratched the back of his neck. ¡°Uh¡­ any details?¡±


    The prefect shook his head. ¡°Just said it was important. Come on.¡±


    Soya and Davonte exchanged a glance.


    Neither of them asked questions.


    Soya closed his book and stood up, tucking it under his arm. Davonte followed, though not before placing his ferret onto the table.


    ¡°Wait here, little buddy,¡± he said, grinning.


    The ferret, without hesitation, reared up and proclaimed:


    ¡°THE GREAT DAVONTE EVANDER LEAVES ON A QUEST! A MYSTERY AWAITS!¡±


    Soya sighed. ¡°I already regret this.¡±


    Kalsei gave a mock salute. ¡°Try not to get expelled.¡±


    Soya didn¡¯t dignify that with a response as they followed the prefect out of the library.


    The halls were quiet as they walked toward Headmaster Spellchecker¡¯s office, the air heavier than it should have been.


    Soya felt his mind already running through possibilities. There weren¡¯t many things that could have required both him and Davonte to be called in.


    He had a sinking feeling he knew what this was about.


    As they reached the tall wooden doors, the prefect knocked once before pushing them open.


    ¡°Sir, they¡¯re here.¡±


    Boromus Spellchecker stood behind his large, cluttered desk, fingers laced together. He wasn¡¯t wearing his usual eccentric half-mismatched robes today¡ªjust deep navy blue, the faint shimmer of embroidered constellations woven into the fabric.


    ¡°Ah, come in, come in!¡± he waved them forward. The prefect gave a small nod and exited, closing the door behind them.


    Soya stepped forward cautiously, exchanging another glance with Davonte.


    Boromus'' usual jovial air was subdued, his bright eyes holding something unreadable.


    ¡°I imagine you both have some idea why I¡¯ve called you here,¡± he began, his voice light, but not without weight.


    Soya¡¯s stomach twisted.


    Boromus sighed. ¡°It¡¯s about Eliza.¡±


    Davonte tensed. ¡°She¡¯s alright?¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± Boromus assured, lifting a hand. ¡°She¡¯s safe. However¡ª¡± he exhaled, folding his arms behind his back, ¡°¡ªher parents have been informed of her situation, and they have requested she return home.¡±


    Soya felt something cold settle in his chest.


    He hadn¡¯t even seen her in some time.


    ¡°She¡¯s leaving?¡± he asked, his voice quieter than he meant it to be.


    Boromus nodded. ¡°Tomorrow morning.¡±


    The words felt heavier than they should have.


    Soya knew it made sense. He knew Eliza¡¯s parents would want her back home after what she had been through. But after everything¡ªafter all the nights spent wondering if she was even alive¡ªit felt unfair that she would be gone before things even felt normal again.


    Davonte rubbed a hand down his face. ¡°I mean¡­ yeah. That makes sense. But¡­ are we even gonna get to see her?¡±


    Boromus¡¯ gaze was gentle but firm. ¡°That¡­ is where I must remind you both that her returning home must remain a secret, and of course that she has been found.¡±


    Soya¡¯s jaw tightened slightly.


    ¡°I understand how frustrating this is,¡± Boromus said, as if he could see their thoughts plain as day. ¡°You two were closer to her than most, and you deserve to see your friend before she goes.¡±


    Soya¡¯s throat felt tight. ¡°Then¡­?¡±


    Boromus smiled faintly. ¡°Then you will. But under strict conditions.¡±


    Davonte perked up slightly. ¡°Meaning?¡±


    Boromus lifted a brow. ¡°Meaning, I will personally escort you to see her. Briefly. Tonight. No one else must know. No word of her being found, no word of her leaving.¡±


    Soya swallowed, then gave a firm nod.


    Davonte, after a brief pause, did the same. ¡°Yeah. Yeah, alright.¡±


    Boromus clapped his hands together. ¡°Good. Then you¡¯ll meet me outside my office just before curfew.¡±


    Soya felt something settle in his chest. It wasn¡¯t relief¡ªnot really. But at least he¡¯d get to say goodbye.


    Boromus gave them a knowing look. ¡°And lads?¡±


    They both looked at him.


    He smiled. ¡°Do not cause trouble between now and then.¡±


    Soya exhaled a short laugh. ¡°We¡¯ll try.¡±


    Boromus hummed. ¡°Good enough.¡±


    The warmth of the Thylacea common room felt almost suffocating that night. The usual laughter and idle chatter filled the space, students sprawled across couches and armchairs, some buried in books, others engaging in lighthearted banter.


    Soya sat with his friends at their usual corner, elbows propped on the arm of the couch, fingers absentmindedly tapping against the fabric. Across from him, Kalsei and Davonte were locked in a ridiculous debate about whether or not Wizard¡¯s Chess was ¡®a sport¡¯.


    ¡°Mate, it¡¯s literally a game,¡± Davonte argued, gesturing wildly. ¡°There¡¯s zero physical effort involved.¡±


    Kalsei grinned. ¡°Mental effort is effort. The brain is a muscle.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not.¡±


    ¡°Okay, well¡ªit should be.¡±


    Tiana sighed. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m witnessing this conversation.¡±


    Draven, flipping a page in his book without looking up, muttered, ¡°I can.¡±


    Soya wasn¡¯t really listening.


    His mind was elsewhere¡ªin an office lined with enchanted telescopes, in a conversation that still sat like a weight on his chest.


    Eliza was leaving.


    They would see her soon, but after that¡­ she¡¯d be gone.


    He wasn¡¯t sure how to process that.


    ¡°Oi, Soya,¡± Davonte nudged him. ¡°You good?¡±


    Soya blinked. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    Kalsei, clearly not convinced, raised an eyebrow. ¡°You look like you just remembered you left the stove on.¡±


    Soya rolled his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    But it was late. Almost curfew. Which meant it was time.


    Soya caught Davonte¡¯s gaze, and they both knew.


    ¡°Actually,¡± Davonte said, stretching, ¡°we should probably head out.¡±


    Kalsei squinted. ¡°Oh? And where, exactly, are you going at this hour?¡±


    Soya thought quickly. ¡°Library. Left some notes there earlier.¡±


    Tiana tilted her head. ¡°You? Forgot something?¡±


    Soya sighed. ¡°Yes, believe it or not, I¡¯m capable of that.¡±


    Kalsei smirked. ¡°Doubt.¡±


    Draven, not looking up, simply said, ¡°Don¡¯t get caught.¡±


    ¡°Not planning to,¡± Soya muttered as he stood.


    Davonte shot finger-guns at the group. ¡°Try not to miss us too much.¡±


    Kalsei snorted. ¡°We won¡¯t.¡±


    With that, Soya and Davonte slipped out of the common room, moving fast but not too fast¡ªkeeping their pace casual as they headed for their meeting with Boromus.


    Neither of them spoke, but the weight of the moment was thick between them.


    This was it.


    One last goodbye.


    And Soya wasn¡¯t ready.


    But ready or not, it was time.


    The halls were quiet, save for the soft echoes of their footsteps against the stone floor. Soya and Davonte moved with careful ease, their usual banter absent as they made their way through the dimly lit corridors. Neither of them spoke, though they didn¡¯t need to. The weight of the moment settled between them, unspoken but heavy.


    As they rounded a corner, they spotted Boromus Spellchecker standing just outside his office, hands clasped behind his back, expression unreadable. He nodded as they approached, stepping aside to open the door.


    ¡°She¡¯s inside,¡± he said simply.


    Soya hesitated for just a second before stepping through, Davonte right behind him.


    The office was warmly lit, the familiar sight of enchanted telescopes and half-finished star charts scattered across Boromus¡¯ desk. But none of that mattered.


    Eliza was sitting in one of the chairs near the fireplace, hands folded in her lap, her wild curls pulled into a loose braid over one shoulder. She looked up as they entered, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Soya saw something that had been missing for too long¡ªher smile.


    ¡°About time,¡± she teased, though her voice wavered just slightly. ¡°I was beginning to think you two weren¡¯t coming.¡±


    Davonte scoffed, striding forward and dropping into the chair across from her. ¡°Please. Like we¡¯d miss the chance to send you off with one last emotional gut punch.¡±


    Soya lingered for a moment before settling into the chair beside Davonte, studying Eliza carefully. She looked¡­ okay. A little tired, a little worn, but not broken.


    ¡°I heard you guys got a talking ferret now,¡± Eliza said, crossing her arms. ¡°And yet, I leave for five minutes and miss the best part of the school year.¡±


    Soya exhaled a laugh. ¡°That¡¯s what you¡¯re upset about?¡±


    ¡°Obviously.¡±


    Davonte grinned. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m keeping him. And if he learns to insult people properly, I¡¯m bringing him to every class.¡±


    Eliza laughed, but the sound didn¡¯t last long before fading into silence. She looked between them, something unreadable in her gaze.


    ¡°I wanted to see you guys before I left,¡± she admitted, voice quieter now. ¡°They told me it had to stay secret, but¡­ I couldn¡¯t just disappear on you.¡±


    Soya swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet her eyes. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said, his voice barely above a whisper. ¡°That would¡¯ve been the worst.¡±


    Eliza nodded. ¡°I still can¡¯t believe this happened. I mean, I can, but¡­ it doesn¡¯t feel real. One minute I was fine, investigating stupid basilisk rumors, and then suddenly I was¡­¡± She shook her head. ¡°Gone.¡±


    Davonte leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. ¡°Well, you¡¯re back now. That¡¯s what matters.¡±


    Eliza gave him a small smile. ¡°Not for long.¡±


    And just like that, the reality of it settled in again.


    She was leaving.


    Soya¡¯s fingers curled slightly against his knee. ¡°Do you want to?¡± he asked before he could stop himself.


    Eliza hesitated, then let out a slow breath. ¡°I don¡¯t know. My parents¡­ they think it¡¯s best. And maybe they¡¯re right.¡± She looked down at her hands. ¡°But it feels like I¡¯m giving up.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not,¡± Soya said immediately, the words coming easier than he expected. ¡°You went through something awful. No one gets to tell you what¡¯s right for you, not even your parents.¡±


    Eliza¡¯s lips twitched, like she wanted to argue but didn¡¯t quite have the words.


    Davonte let out an exaggerated sigh. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re leaving me alone with these two. Draven is way too smart, Soya actually studies, and Kalsei is just chaos incarnate. You were my balance, Eliza.¡±


    She laughed, though it came out a little watery. ¡°Oh, please. You¡¯ll survive.¡±


    ¡°No promises.¡±


    Silence settled again, this time heavier than before. Eliza¡¯s smile wavered. ¡°I¡¯m gonna miss you guys.¡±


    Soya swallowed against the lump forming in his throat.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he said softly. ¡°Same.¡±


    For a moment, none of them spoke. Then, with a quiet exhale, Eliza stood. Soya and Davonte followed, the movement feeling far too final.


    Eliza looked between them, then, without hesitation, pulled them both into a hug.


    Soya stiffened at first, but then he felt Davonte pat his shoulder and he let himself relax, just for a second.


    ¡°Take care of yourselves, alright?¡± Eliza mumbled.


    ¡°You too,¡± Soya said, voice tight.


    Davonte grinned against the weight of it all. ¡°Try not to die of boredom outside of school.¡±


    Eliza laughed, pulling back to wipe at her eyes. ¡°No promises.¡±


    Boromus cleared his throat gently from behind them, reminding them that time was up.


    Eliza took a small step back, hands curling at her sides. ¡°I¡¯ll see you guys again,¡± she said, though it sounded more like a hope than a certainty.


    Soya nodded. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    Davonte gave her a smile. ¡±Think you will come back next year?¡±


    Eliza smiled. ¡°Hopefully.¡±


    And with that, she turned, heading for the door.


    Soya watched her go, feeling something heavy settle in his chest.


    Then she was gone.


    And the only thing left was the silence.


    Davonte let out a slow breath. ¡°That sucked.¡±


    Soya closed his eyes briefly. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    But there was nothing else to say.


    So they left for the common room, trying to remain composed for when they returned to the others.

 Chapter 40: A Day To Be Remembered.

    The morning air outside was cool, the kind that hinted at an approaching storm. By the time Soya and the others arrived at the Elemental Magic classroom, the air inside already felt charged, as if the room itself had been waiting for them.


    The classroom was one of the more expansive spaces at Austramore, with a high domed ceiling lined with stormglass, enchanted to absorb and dissipate excess energy. The walls bore faint scorch marks, lingering evidence of past lessons that had gotten out of hand.


    Professor Enara Kalden stood at the front of the room, her deep crimson robes flowing with a commanding presence. Her sharp features carried the same intense focus they always did, her wand resting lightly against her wrist.


    As the students settled, she raised a hand, and the room immediately hushed.


    ¡°Lightning,¡± she began, her voice carrying effortlessly, ¡°is unlike any other element. It does not wait. It does not linger. It moves, it strikes, and it is gone.¡±


    She motioned with her wand toward a floating metal disc at the far end of the room.


    ¡°Fulgaris Arc!¡±


    The incantation left her lips with sharp precision, and the spell responded immediately¡ªa streak of violet-blue lightning leapt from her wand, striking the target dead center. The impact sent a sharp snap through the air, leaving behind a faint ozone tang.


    ¡°Today,¡± Kalden continued, lowering her wand, ¡°we will be working with Fulgaris Arc¡ªa lightning spell that channels energy into a controlled strike.¡±


    Kalsei grinned. ¡°So, we¡¯re shooting lightning? That¡¯s the best thing I¡¯ve heard all week.¡±


    Kalden¡¯s gaze snapped to him, unimpressed. ¡°If you cast without control, Detra, you will not hit your target¡ªyou will hit the nearest object that can conduct magic.¡± She paused, letting that sink in. ¡°That object is often another student.¡±


    Kalsei¡¯s grin dimmed slightly.


    Davonte leaned over. ¡°I love how she basically just said ¡®lightning wants to electrocute you specifically.¡¯¡±


    Kalden ignored them both. ¡°To cast Fulgaris Arc, you must focus your energy into a single, unwavering point. It is not about force¡ªit is about precision.¡±


    She raised her wand again, this time deliberately slowing the process.


    ¡°The incantation is Fulgaris Arc. You must speak it with purpose¡ªhesitation will break the spell¡¯s flow.¡±


    She demonstrated again, her wand tip steady, her voice firm.


    ¡°Fulgaris Arc!¡±


    Another arc of lightning shot forward, crackling through the air before striking a second floating disc with perfect accuracy.


    ¡°The spell is quick,¡± she said, lowering her wand. ¡°If you hesitate, you will miss. If you force it, the result will be unpredictable.¡±


    Soya felt his pulse quicken. He wasn¡¯t bad at precision magic, but lightning spells had a way of amplifying mistakes. He exchanged a glance with Draven, who simply murmured, ¡°This will be¡­ interesting.¡±


    Kalden gestured toward the floating discs lining the far end of the room. ¡°Each of you will take a position. Channel your energy, guide the spell, and hit your mark. Begin.¡±


    Soya took his position in front of one of the floating metal discs, his wand held loosely at his side. The faint crackling of residual lightning hummed in the air around them as students spaced out across the room, some adjusting their stances, others glancing uncertainly at their targets.


    Professor Kalden strode between them, hands clasped behind her back. ¡°Fulgaris Arc is not a brute force spell,¡± she reminded them. ¡°It requires a clear path for the energy to follow. If you rush the casting, the spell will scatter. If you hesitate, the charge will collapse.¡±


    ¡°Sounds easy enough,¡± Kalsei muttered under his breath.


    Kalden stopped directly behind him.


    ¡°Is that so, Mr Detra?¡±


    Kalsei stiffened slightly. ¡°I mean¡­ in theory?¡±


    Kalden arched a brow. ¡°Then you will be the first to attempt it.¡±


    Soya saw the exact moment Kalsei realized his mistake.


    To his credit, he recovered quickly, rolling his shoulders as he turned to face his target. ¡°Right, sure, no problem.¡±


    Davonte, standing a few feet away, grinned. ¡°This is going to be great.¡±


    Kalden stepped back but kept her sharp gaze locked on Kalsei as he raised his wand. He took a breath, squared his stance, then flicked his wand toward the target.


    ¡°Fulgaris Arc!¡±


    A crackle of energy snapped around the tip of his wand, but instead of shooting forward, the lightning veered off course almost immediately, arcing wildly toward the nearest object¡ª


    Davonte.


    ¡°Oh, come on!¡±


    The moment the wayward lightning bolt surged toward him, Davonte threw himself sideways, narrowly avoiding an accidental electrocution. The bolt hit the wall behind him, leaving a scorched black mark against the stone.


    Kalsei winced. ¡°Oops.¡±


    Kalden sighed. ¡°Mr Detra, what did I say about forcing it?¡±


    Kalsei rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°Yeah, I, uh¡­ might¡¯ve put a bit too much into it.¡±


    Kalden turned toward Davonte, who was brushing himself off. ¡°Mr Evander, since you are already warmed up from avoiding disaster, you will go next.¡±


    Davonte sighed dramatically. ¡°Fine, but if I set myself on fire, I want it noted that this wasn¡¯t my fault.¡±


    Soya smirked. ¡°It never is.¡±


    Kalden gave him a sharp look. ¡°Mr Vareen, you will follow Mr Evander.¡±


    Soya felt a small knot of nerves tighten in his chest but nodded.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Davonte raised his wand, twirling it once between his fingers before pointing it at the floating disc. ¡°Alright, lightning, don¡¯t betray me.¡±


    He took a breath.


    ¡°Fulgaris Arc!¡±


    A bolt of blue-white electricity shot from his wand, this time hitting the target¡ªbut barely. The energy sputtered at the last second, bouncing weakly off the edge before dissipating.


    Davonte frowned. ¡°That felt¡­ weird.¡±


    Kalden nodded. ¡°Your control was better, but you hesitated at the moment of release.¡±


    ¡°Bit rude,¡± Davonte muttered.


    Kalden¡¯s expression remained neutral. ¡°If a spell cannot handle criticism, it is a poor spell.¡±


    Soya exhaled slowly, stepping up next. His grip on his wand was steady, but something about the spell¡¯s mechanics felt different than what he was used to.


    Lightning was unpredictable. It didn¡¯t move in straight lines like fire or water¡ªit searched for the fastest way down, for the closest point of contact.


    Soya didn¡¯t want to mess this up.


    He raised his wand, his eyes locked onto the floating disc.


    The magic buzzed against his fingertips, eager to be released.


    ¡°Fulgaris Arc!¡±


    The moment he cast, he felt it¡ªthe charge surging forward. A sharp, electric snap rang through the air as the lightning shot from his wand, striking the target dead center.


    Sparks rippled outward from the point of impact before fizzling into nothing.


    Kalden watched him carefully. ¡°Not bad.¡±


    Soya exhaled, trying not to look too relieved.


    Draven, standing at the station beside him, tilted his head. ¡°You adjusted the current mid-cast.¡±


    Soya hesitated. ¡°Yeah¡­ kind of just felt like it needed correcting.¡±


    Kalden narrowed her eyes slightly. ¡°Interesting.¡±


    Soya wasn¡¯t sure if that was a good thing or not.


    Kalsei clapped him on the back. ¡°Alright, show-off, leave some skill for the rest of us.¡±


    Kalden ignored them. ¡°Again. All of you. Until you get it right.¡±


    The students practiced for some time, the air in the Elemental Magic classroom crackled faintly with residual energy as the students wrapped up their final attempts at casting Fulgaris Arc. The floating targets had taken their fair share of scorch marks, and a few unfortunate chairs had been singed in the process.


    ¡°Enough,¡± Professor Kalden announced, her sharp gaze sweeping the room. ¡°Some of you have managed passable execution of the spell. The rest of you¡­¡± She let the silence stretch for a moment. ¡°Let¡¯s just say we are fortunate no one was hospitalized today.¡±


    Kalsei grinned. ¡°That sounds like a victory to me.¡±


    Kalden didn¡¯t dignify that with a response. Instead, she simply dismissed the class with a flick of her hand, her robes swishing as she turned away.


    Soya exhaled, tucking his wand back into his robe as the class began to shuffle toward the door.


    ¡°I¡¯d say that went well,¡± Davonte said, stretching his arms.


    ¡°You almost got electrocuted,¡± Tiana reminded him.


    Davonte waved a hand. ¡°Details.¡±


    Kalsei slung an arm around Soya¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Friend, that was impressive. You have actual lightning aim. If we ever need to cook something in a hurry, you¡¯re on it.¡±


    Soya rolled his eyes but didn¡¯t argue.


    Draven fell into step beside them as they made their way down the hall. ¡°Lightning magic isn¡¯t something you can fake your way through,¡± he said, ¡°which makes your success more interesting.¡±


    Soya gave him a look. ¡°You say that like I don¡¯t try in class.¡±


    Draven simply hummed. ¡°It¡¯s not effort I¡¯m questioning. It¡¯s your instinct.¡±


    Before Soya could reply, Kalsei clapped his hands together. ¡°Alright, serious discussion time.¡±


    Tiana sighed. ¡°That¡¯s never a good sign.¡±


    ¡°I vote we eat as much as physically possible at lunch,¡± Kalsei continued. ¡°Magic burns a lot of energy. It¡¯s our responsibility to replenish it.¡±


    Davonte nodded sagely. ¡°That¡¯s a valid argument.¡±


    Tiana pinched the bridge of her nose. ¡°You just want an excuse to overeat.¡±


    Kalsei grinned. ¡°That too.¡±


    Soya shook his head as they entered the Great Hall, the scent of roasted meats, fresh bread, and warm spices filling the air. The enchanted ceiling above them reflected a cloudy sky, though no rain had started falling just yet.


    As they settled at the Thylacea table, Davonte immediately reached for a plate of roast chicken. ¡°Alright, new topic¡ªworst spell failure you¡¯ve ever seen.¡±


    Kalsei laughed. ¡°Oh, this is gonna be good.¡±


    Soya smirked, taking a slice of bread. ¡°I¡¯m assuming we¡¯re not counting today¡¯s class?¡±


    Davonte pointed at him. ¡°No, outside of today. Let¡¯s hear it.¡±


    Draven sighed. ¡°Are we really doing this?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Kalsei and Davonte said at the same time.


    Soya thought for a moment. ¡°I think mine is still the shrinking potion incident.¡±


    Kalsei leaned forward, intrigued. ¡°Oh? Do tell.¡±


    Soya smirked. ¡°Let¡¯s just say¡­ someone misread the ingredient ratio, and we ended up with a room full of six-inch students.¡±


    Kalsei choked on his drink. ¡°No way.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah,¡± Davonte confirmed. ¡°It was horrifying at first, but after we stopped panicking, it was kind of fun.¡±


    Draven, unimpressed, muttered, ¡°Fun is not the word I would use.¡±


    Kalsei grinned. ¡°That¡¯s it, I need to hear more of these stories.¡±


    Tiana sighed, though there was a faint trace of amusement in her expression. ¡°You¡¯ll regret saying that.¡±


    Before long they finished eating and made their way to their next class.


    The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom hummed with an unsettling energy, the kind that made the air feel heavier than usual. Soya had felt it the moment they stepped inside, though he wasn¡¯t sure if it was from the upcoming dueling lesson or the fact that Professor Marilla¡¯s sharp gaze seemed to linger on certain students more than others.


    The class gathered around the dueling platform, tension thick as Marilla¡¯s piercing eyes swept across them.


    ¡°Dueling,¡± she began, ¡°is not about bravado. It is not about proving who is stronger. It is about discipline, precision, and knowing when to strike.¡±


    Her gaze flickered toward Sevrin Verelle. Then, to Davonte Evander.


    Soya tensed.


    Draven sighed quietly. ¡°This should be interesting.¡±


    Marilla¡¯s lips curled into something almost amused. ¡°Evander. Verelle. You will be the first pair.¡±


    A ripple went through the class.


    Sevrin looked completely unbothered, stepping onto the platform with the confidence of someone who had never once considered losing. His robes were pristine, his stance effortless. He didn¡¯t even glance at Davonte.


    Davonte, by contrast, adjusted his sleeves, flashing a lazy grin. He had been training with Soya for weeks.


    As the two faced off, a sudden, dramatic voice echoed from the back of the class.


    ¡°AND SO BEGINS THE GLORIOUS BATTLE OF OUR TIME!¡±


    The entire class turned toward the source.


    Davonte¡¯s ferret.


    Perched proudly on Kalsei¡¯s shoulder, it stood upright, tiny paws gesturing as if addressing an invisible audience.


    ¡°LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WITNESS NOW AS THE GREAT DAVONTE EVANDER FACES HIS MORTAL FOE!¡±


    Marilla¡¯s expression remained unreadable, but the twitch in her jaw suggested she was deciding whether or not to incinerate the rodent.


    Sevrin¡¯s eye twitched. ¡°Get rid of that thing.¡±


    Davonte held up a finger. ¡°First of all, how dare you.¡±


    The ferret continued undeterred.


    ¡°BEHOLD, THE MIGHTY EVANDER, HERO OF THE COMMON PEOPLE, READY TO FACE THE WRETCHED TYRANT¡ª¡±


    ¡°Bow,¡± Marilla cut in sharply.


    Sevrin barely inclined his head. Davonte grinned, bowing deeply¡ªwith an exaggerated flourish for effect.


    Marilla raised her wand. ¡°Begin.¡±


    Sevrin moved first.


    ¡°Lumos Maxima!¡±


    A brilliant flash of light exploded across the platform, blinding everything in its path.


    Davonte, already predicting some nonsense, threw up Protego, shielding himself instinctively.


    Unfortunately for Sevrin, the sheer brightness of his own spell also temporarily obstructed his own vision.


    The ferret gasped dramatically.


    ¡°A BLINDING LIGHT STRIKES THE FIELD! A DIRTY MOVE FROM VERELLE! BUT WAIT¡ªWHAT¡¯S THIS? THE HERO STANDS UNYIELDING!¡±


    Sevrin, recovering quickly, followed up with:


    ¡°Expulsum Infernalis!¡±


    The red-hot concussive blast shot forward¡ªonly to slam into Davonte¡¯s shield instead.


    The impact crackled through the room, but Davonte remained completely unharmed.


    Kalsei whistled. ¡°Not bad.¡±


    Sevrin scowled.


    The ferret leapt onto Draven¡¯s shoulder, continuing its commentary.


    ¡°A SHOCKING MISFIRE! VERELLE, SHAKEN! OUR HERO, UNTOUCHED! COULD IT BE? HAS EVANDER BEEN SECRETLY TRAINING?¡±


    Davonte smirked. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s try something fun.¡±


    Soya knew that tone¡ªit was never a good thing.


    Davonte raised his wand, focusing on the platform beneath Sevrin¡¯s feet.


    ¡°Depulso Maxima!¡±


    A shockwave burst outward, enhanced far beyond the normal strength of Depulso.


    Sevrin had no time to react.


    The spell hit the ground beneath him, launching him straight off the platform¡ªinto the waiting arms of Grundle Strang.


    The entire class gasped.


    Sevrin landed awkwardly against the massive half-giant, who caught him without the slightest bit of effort.


    The ferret lost its mind.


    ¡°UNBELIEVABLE! VERELLE TAKES FLIGHT! GRUNDLE STRANG, UNWITTING SAVIOR! THE CROWD ROARS¡ª¡±


    Sevrin struggled violently. ¡°Put me down, you overgrown¡ª¡±


    Grundle, completely unfazed, set him gently on the ground. ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡±


    Sevrin¡¯s face was burning with humiliation. His hands clenched into fists, his entire body radiating fury.


    Marilla tilted her head, watching carefully.


    ¡°Depulso Maxima,¡± she murmured, considering the spell. ¡°You modified the casting structure.¡±


    Davonte shrugged. ¡°Seemed like a good idea.¡±


    There was a long pause. Then¡ªMarilla smirked.


    ¡°Interesting.¡±


    Sevrin looked like he wanted to set the entire room on fire.


    Soya caught Davonte¡¯s gaze and grinned.


    The ferret stood proudly, dramatically lifting a paw.


    ¡°AND SO, A HUMILIATING DEFEAT! SEVRIN VERELLE, STRIPPED OF HIS DIGNITY! EVANDER, UNTOUCHED! A LESSON IN PRIDE, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!¡±


    Marilla exhaled sharply.


    ¡°Evander. Remove the rodent from my classroom.¡±


    Davonte, still riding the high of victory, picked up the ferret and cradled it against his chest. ¡°You¡¯re just mad it tells the truth.¡±


    Marilla didn¡¯t dignify that with a response.


    Sevrin, face still burning, shoved past them as he stormed out of the room.


    Soya leaned toward Davonte. ¡°So, that was the best thing I¡¯ve ever seen.¡±


    Kalsei nodded sagely. ¡°I think we just witnessed history.¡±


    The ferret squeaked proudly.


    ¡°HISTORY INDEED! A DAY TO BE REMEMBERED!¡±

 Chapter 41: Changing Sides

    Sevrin moved through the dimly lit corridors of the lower levels of Austramore, his footfalls barely making a sound on the ancient stone floor. The torches lining the walls burned with an unnatural, flickering blue flame, casting long, restless shadows that stretched and writhed against the cold stone. The air here was thick, heavy with something unseen, something that made the skin crawl and the breath come just a little too shallow.


    He had been summoned.


    And one did not ignore a summons from Salsiar.


    The weight of expectation pressed against his ribs, but Sevrin straightened his shoulders and schooled his expression into one of cold indifference. He was not a child to be scolded. He was not some groveling pawn. He was Sevrin Verelle, heir to a legacy greater than most of these pitiful students could ever comprehend. And yet, he had failed. That much was undeniable. Evander, that insufferable, bumbling fool, had bested him. A disgrace.


    He reached the door at the end of the corridor. Dark wood, polished and smooth, with no handle. It opened on its own the moment he stopped before it.


    Inside, the chamber was colder. The air felt stagnant, unmoving, as though it had been sealed away from time itself. The walls were lined with bookshelves, tomes older than the school itself stacked neatly in ways that seemed almost deliberate, as if they served a purpose beyond knowledge.


    And at the center of the room stood Marilla.


    Or rather, what wore Marilla¡¯s skin.


    The form was perfect¡ªher composed stance, the sharp, calculating glint in her gaze. To any other student or professor, she was simply their enigmatic Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. But Sevrin knew better. He had seen the way her presence altered the air, the way the very walls seemed to bow beneath something greater, something far older than human flesh could contain. Salsiar was a being beyond mortal comprehension, a force of will that had chosen this vessel, and even now, as she stood with Marilla¡¯s face, it was not her eyes that looked back at him.


    They were watching him.


    Sevrin lowered his head in a deferential nod, a gesture of acknowledgment, but not submission.


    ¡°You called,¡± he said, his voice calm, measured.


    Marilla¡¯s lips curled into something that could have been a smile if it held any warmth. It did not.


    ¡°You disappoint me, Sevrin.¡± The words were soft, but the weight behind them was suffocating. ¡°To lose to someone like Evander¡ªhow utterly pathetic.¡±


    Sevrin felt his jaw tighten. He had already replayed that moment a hundred times in his mind, analyzed every mistake, every misstep. To have it spoken aloud, to have it laid bare like a wound being pressed beneath cold iron, was unbearable.


    ¡°I¡ª¡± He stopped himself before he made the mistake of offering an excuse. Salsiar did not tolerate excuses.


    Marilla took a slow step forward, her presence shifting the very atmosphere of the room. ¡°Tell me, Sevrin, do you believe I offer power freely? Do you think I waste my time on those who prove themselves¡­ weak?¡± The last word was drawn out, deliberate, as though tasting its bitterness.


    Sevrin swallowed down the sharp retort that burned on his tongue. He had no illusions of his standing. He was valuable to Salsiar, yes, but only so long as he proved useful. And failure was never useful.


    ¡°No,¡± he said instead, voice controlled, composed.


    ¡°No,¡± Marilla repeated, a whisper of amusement threading through the syllable. ¡°And yet, here you stand. Not as a victor. Not as one who crushed his opponent beneath his heel. You stand as one who lost.¡±


    Sevrin¡¯s nails dug into his palms, but he did not waver. He would not. He was stronger than that.


    A shift in the air. Movement from the side.


    Sevrin turned his gaze slightly, just enough to see Sage standing near the far wall. The boy looked calm. Too calm. As if he already knew why he was here. As if he had accepted it.


    Sevrin¡¯s stomach twisted with something unfamiliar.


    Marilla gestured lazily in Sage¡¯s direction, almost as an afterthought. ¡°Your little friend here¡­ he has proven himself unworthy of my favor. He betrayed us.¡± She tilted her head slightly, as if contemplating the weight of the words before letting them slip from her tongue. ¡°And so, he must be removed.¡±


    Silence.


    Then Marilla turned back to Sevrin, stepping close enough that he could see the subtle, unnatural sharpness beneath her borrowed form. The thing inside that body was looking at him now, not just through the eyes of a professor but through something else. Something ancient. Something waiting.


    ¡°Kill him,¡± Marilla said.


    Sevrin stared at Sage.


    Sage, who had stood by his side since the beginning. Sage, who had once been his closest ally, the only one who truly understood him. Sage, who had laughed in the face of consequence, who had danced on the edge of ruin with him time and time again.


    Sage, who was now just another test.


    Sevrin let out a slow breath, his hand drifting toward his wand.


    The room was too quiet.


    The weight of Marilla¡¯s words hung between them, oppressive and chilling, making every breath feel labored, every heartbeat too loud. Sevrin¡¯s fingers tightened around his wand as he faced Sage. The familiar face, the same one he had spent years by, was now an enemy. An opponent.


    Sage stood still, his expression unreadable. There was no sign of hesitation in his movements, no trembling in his stance. He had already betrayed them. He had already made his choice.


    But Sevrin was different. His eyes narrowed, his mind racing. This wasn¡¯t just about power¡ªit was about survival. About proving himself once more. Salsiar would not tolerate failure, and he would not suffer weakness. He had seen it in Marilla¡¯s eyes, felt the sharpness of her words like a dagger pressing against his skin.


    Sevrin would not fail again.


    He took a steadying breath and flicked his wand, his voice low but commanding. ¡°Serpensortia!¡±


    A jet of green light shot forward, and the air shimmered with the sudden presence of a massive serpent, its fangs gleaming like daggers in the torchlight. It lunged at Sage, but the boy was already moving.


    With a fluid motion, Sage drew his wand, shouting, ¡°Depulso!¡±


    A wave of force erupted from Sage¡¯s wand, knocking the serpent back with an audible hiss, its massive body contorting mid-air before it vanished, dissolved by the spell.


    Sage wasn¡¯t holding back either. The fight had begun in earnest.


    Sevrin¡¯s heart hammered in his chest, but his focus was razor-sharp. He couldn¡¯t afford any mistakes, not now, not when his very life was at stake. He was about to strike again when Sage spoke, his voice calm, almost too calm.


    ¡°Is this really what you want, Sevrin?¡± Sage¡¯s words cut through the air like a blade, but Sevrin only tightened his grip on his wand.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have a choice,¡± he said through clenched teeth, his voice cold and distant.


    Sage¡¯s eyes glimmered with something¡ªregret, perhaps. Or understanding. Sevrin couldn¡¯t tell. But before he could react, Sage lunged forward, his wand already aimed.


    ¡°Bombarda!¡±


    The blast rang out, a violent explosion of light and sound that filled the room. Sevrin was thrown back, his robes singeing at the edges, but his feet remained planted. With a snarl, he stood tall again, shaking off the blast¡¯s residual force.


    Sage was already on the move, circling him like a predator. But Sevrin wasn¡¯t about to let his former friend get the upper hand. He had been underestimated before, and he wouldn¡¯t make that mistake again.


    With a flick of his wrist, Sevrin cast his spell, his voice steady and firm. ¡°Expulsum Infernalis!¡±


    The dark flame roared to life, streaking toward Sage like a living thing, its heat curling through the air, ready to consume. But Sage was fast. He rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the flames that scorched the stone behind him.


    The intensity of the battle was growing with every moment. The air crackled with magic, each spell colliding and sparking in violent bursts. Sevrin felt his heartbeat in his throat, his pulse racing as he engaged in a dangerous, deadly dance with Sage.


    Every attack they traded pushed them further, both physically and mentally, until neither could gain the upper hand. Sage moved with practiced ease, his every motion deliberate and controlled, as if he had become one with his magic. Sevrin responded with equal precision, a master of his craft, but there was something off in the way he moved¡ªa hesitation in the back of his mind, a flicker of doubt.


    They were evenly matched.


    Sage¡¯s next spell came at him faster than Sevrin anticipated.


    "Malus Obscurum!¡± he shouted, A shadowed projectile tore through the air, barreling toward Sevrin with lethal intent.


    Sevrin barely managed to dodge, the spell grazing his side and leaving a tear in his robes. His breath came fast, his body starting to feel the weight of the fight. But it wasn¡¯t just his body that was weary¡ªit was his mind, too. He had known Sage for years. Their bond had always been strong, even when the darkness had begun to twist their paths. This fight¡ªthis violence¡ªfelt unnatural, wrong.


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    But Sage didn¡¯t falter. His next move was instinctive, precise. He turned his wand to Sevrin, and in that split second, the world seemed to still. The tension between them thickened, crackling with energy. It was clear that they both knew how this would end.


    And yet, Sage did not cast the fatal blow.


    Instead, he lowered his wand slightly, his eyes locking onto Sevrin¡¯s, a silent understanding passing between them. His shoulders sagged ever so slightly, and in that instant, Sevrin realized what was happening. It wasn¡¯t just a battle. It was a decision. A choice.


    Sage had already made his.


    ¡°Tell my father I am sorry,¡± Sage said softly, his voice barely audible over the hum of magic that surrounded them.


    Sevrin froze.


    Sage didn¡¯t wait for an answer. In one fluid motion, he turned his body, extending his arms wide as if offering himself. His eyes closed, and with a resigned sigh, he simply let the magic hit him.


    Sevrin¡¯s heart stuttered in his chest. His wand flashed bright with the power of the spell, and in that instant, everything seemed to slow.


    A single, final burst of magic¡ªSevrin¡¯s spell¡ªstruck Sage directly.


    There was no scream, no cry for mercy. Sage¡¯s body simply crumpled, falling to the floor as if the life had been drained from him in one brutal moment.


    And Sevrin stood over him, his heart heavy with the weight of the choice that had been made¡ªhis and Sage¡¯s both.


    The silence that followed was suffocating.


    Sevrin¡¯s wand hand was still raised, his fingers stiff and cold around the polished wood. His breath came shallow, uneven, though he refused to let it show. His mind, however, was less disciplined. The image of Sage crumpling to the floor, his body utterly still, was burned into his vision. The words still echoed in his ears.


    "Tell my father I am sorry."


    He had never heard Sage sound so... resigned.


    The weight of it pressed against his ribs, a foreign and unwelcome sensation. But before it could settle into something dangerous¡ªsomething that might make him weak¡ªMarilla¡¯s voice sliced through the thick, lingering silence.


    ¡°Finally.¡±


    The word was spoken with casual satisfaction, as if Sage¡¯s death was nothing more than a loose end tied up, an inconvenience removed from the board. Marilla stepped forward, her gaze flicking over Sage¡¯s unmoving form with disinterest, her expression betraying no hint of sentimentality.


    ¡°You have proven yourself, Sevrin,¡± she continued smoothly. ¡°Even if the boy had to let you win.¡±


    Sevrin¡¯s grip on his wand tightened, his jaw locking.


    It didn¡¯t matter. Sage had chosen his fate. It had been a battle¡ªa true battle¡ªbut in the end, he had made the choice to fall. That wasn¡¯t Sevrin¡¯s burden to carry.


    Marilla turned her back to the body without another glance, her focus shifting entirely. ¡°We have matters to attend to. There is no need to linger.¡±


    Sevrin forced himself to move, though his legs felt heavier than they should. He stepped around Sage¡¯s fallen form, keeping his face expressionless. He would not allow himself to falter. Not here. Not now.


    But Marilla¡¯s next words pulled his attention sharply.


    ¡°The Vareen boy,¡± she murmured. ¡°It is time we begin addressing him.¡±


    Sevrin blinked, barely concealing his irritation. He turned toward Marilla, his frown deepening. ¡°Soya?¡± The name tasted foreign in his mouth, like something beneath his notice. His thoughts on the Muggle-born had always been the same: nothing. An anomaly at best. A stain on the purity of Austramore at worst. But power? That was laughable.


    He straightened, composing himself. ¡°Why waste time on him?¡± There was no hiding the disdain in his voice. ¡°He¡¯s a Muggle-born. He¡¯s nothing.¡±


    For the first time since the fight ended, Marilla turned her full attention to him. And it was only then that Sevrin realized just how deep his mistake had been.


    The weight of her stare was suffocating, pressing into him like an unseen force, as if the very walls of the room had closed in around him. He had faced powerful wizards before. He had been scolded, reprimanded, even punished. But this was different.


    Marilla took a slow step toward him, the flickering blue torches casting eerie shadows across her face. And when she spoke, there was no anger, no sharp reprimand. Only cold, unshakable certainty.


    ¡°You assume too much,¡± she said, her voice quiet but absolute.


    Sevrin stiffened.


    ¡°You are not the most powerful student in Austramore, Sevrin Verelle.¡±


    His stomach twisted.


    ¡°You are not the most valuable.¡±


    His fingers twitched.


    Marilla leaned in slightly, her expression unreadable, but her words were designed to cut. ¡°That boy¡ªthat Muggle-born¡ªis far more powerful than you.¡±


    Sevrin¡¯s breath caught in his throat before he could stop it. His body tensed, his pride roaring in defiance. That¡ªthat¡ªwas impossible.


    His lips curled into a sneer before he could fully stop himself. ¡°That¡¯s absurd.¡±


    Marilla didn¡¯t blink.


    ¡°You believe blood defines power. That your lineage alone makes you superior.¡± A slow, predatory smile curved across her lips, something distinctly inhuman flickering beneath her borrowed expression. ¡°You are a fool, Sevrin.¡±


    Sevrin¡¯s pulse pounded in his ears, the sharp sting of humiliation creeping up his spine. He wasn¡¯t foolish. He wasn¡¯t weak. He had just proven himself. He had just won. And now, mere moments later, he was being told that some filthy Muggle-born¡ªVareen¡ªwas stronger?


    No. No, that couldn¡¯t be true.


    Soya was nothing. Nothing.


    But Marilla had no reason to lie.


    And that was what made Sevrin¡¯s blood turn cold.


    He swallowed back his instinctive denial, forcing himself to think. Why? What did Salsiar see in that boy? What was it about Vareen that made him important?


    He was just... ordinary. Unremarkable. A Muggle-born.


    And yet, Marilla was speaking as if he was something more.


    As if he was something greater.


    Sevrin¡¯s fists clenched at his sides, his nails biting into his palms.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe that,¡± he finally said, his voice quieter than he intended.


    Marilla only smiled, something unreadable flickering in her eyes.


    ¡°That is not my concern.¡±


    And with that, she turned, gliding toward the door, leaving Sage¡¯s body behind without another thought.


    ¡°Come, Sevrin,¡± she said. ¡°We have work to do.¡±


    Sevrin hesitated for only a fraction of a second before forcing his feet to move, his mind still reeling.


    He would prove her wrong.


    Soya Vareen was not stronger than him.


    He would not be stronger than him.


    Sevrin would make sure of it.


    The corridors of the lower levels stretched before them, their path illuminated only by the cold, flickering blue flames that lined the stone walls. The air was still, heavy with an unnatural silence that seemed to cling to every surface. Sevrin walked beside Marilla¡ªSalsiar¡ªthough he kept a careful distance, his mind still racing with what had just transpired.


    Sage was dead.


    The thought settled in his chest like a weight, pressing deeper with each step. He had spent years at Sage¡¯s side, their paths woven together by ambition, by shared purpose. And now, with one final choice, Sage had severed that thread.


    But it wasn¡¯t just his death that disturbed Sevrin.


    It was what came after.


    That boy¡ªthat Muggle-born¡ªis far more powerful than you.


    Marilla¡¯s words still echoed in his head, sharp and relentless. He refused to accept them. He would not accept them. Soya was nothing. A nobody. He had no bloodline, no legacy. He had no place in their world, and yet¡­ Salsiar was giving him one.


    Sevrin¡¯s hands clenched into fists as they neared the staircase leading back to the upper levels.


    Marilla stopped.


    ¡°This is where we part for now,¡± she said, turning toward him, her expression as calm and composed as ever. ¡°You have done well, Sevrin. But this next step is not for you.¡±


    Sevrin forced himself to meet her gaze, careful not to let his unease show. ¡°And what step is that?¡±


    The edges of Marilla¡¯s lips curled, something dark lurking behind the simple motion.


    ¡°I will lead the Vareen boy to an empty classroom,¡± she said smoothly, as if discussing nothing more than a lesson plan. ¡°And then, I will take him.¡±


    Sevrin felt something cold press against the inside of his ribcage.


    This was it.


    The moment.


    Salsiar had taken his time watching, waiting, planning. But now, he was making his move.


    And Soya had no idea what was coming.


    Marilla gave him one final glance, something unreadable in her gaze, before turning and making her way up the steps.


    Sevrin did not move. Not immediately.


    He stood there, his breath steady, his expression calm. He played the part he had perfected. Cold. Unshaken.


    But the moment Marilla disappeared from sight, something in him snapped.


    Enough is enough.


    His body moved before he fully processed the decision, his feet carrying him through the corridors at a pace just short of running. His heart pounded, not with fear, but with something else¡ªsomething heavier, something deeper.


    He had spent his life seeking power. Control. He had pledged himself to it. But this?


    This was something else.


    Salsiar was not a wizard. He was not a mere force to be reckoned with. He was something older. Something worse.


    And if no one stopped him now, there would be no stopping him at all.


    The halls blurred past him, the torches flickering as if responding to the urgency in his steps. He didn¡¯t hesitate when he reached the door to Seikan Blackthorn¡¯s office.


    He shoved it open.


    Seikan was at his desk, quill in hand, but his piercing green eyes lifted the moment Sevrin entered. The air in the room shifted¡ªcold and sharp, like a blade being drawn.


    ¡°Professor,¡± Sevrin said, his voice steady despite the storm inside him.


    Seikan didn¡¯t move. He simply studied him, expression unreadable. ¡°You have precisely ten seconds to explain why you¡¯ve entered my office unannounced before I hex you out of it.¡±


    Sevrin exhaled slowly, his gaze locking onto the professor¡¯s.


    ¡°Salsiar,¡± he said, deliberately choosing the name, not the guise it wore. ¡°It¡¯s been possessing Marilla.¡±


    A long silence.


    The words settled like lead in the air, heavy and unmoving.


    Then, Seikan slowly placed his quill down. ¡°Take it to the headmaster.¡±


    Sevrin¡¯s hands twitched at his sides. He had expected that response. He had counted on it.


    ¡°I would,¡± he said, his voice unwavering. ¡°But your son is already dead.¡±


    The change was instant.


    The room¡¯s atmosphere snapped like a whip, the air thickening with something unseen. Seikan¡¯s gaze darkened, the weight of his presence shifting, pressing.


    Sevrin stood his ground.


    He didn¡¯t know if Seikan truly cared for his son¡ªif Sage had meant anything to him. But it didn¡¯t matter. Because what mattered was the moment of hesitation, the flicker of instinctive reaction. That was what Sevrin needed.


    Seikan¡¯s fingers curled against the edge of his desk. ¡°Explain,¡± he said, his voice low, measured.


    Sevrin took a slow step forward.


    ¡°Salsiar ordered me to kill him,¡± he said. ¡°And now, he¡¯s after Vareen.¡±


    A long, stretched silence followed.


    Sevrin could feel it¡ªthe way Seikan¡¯s mind was already working, calculating, deciding.


    Then, at last, Seikan rose from his chair.


    ¡°Where?¡±


    Sevrin turned toward the door, already moving. ¡°Follow me.¡±


    And without another word, Seikan followed.

 Chapter 42: Plan in Motion

    Soya sat at the edge of his bed, blinking blearily as the first traces of morning light filtered through the high windows of the Thylacea dormitory. The warmth of his blankets still clung to him, making the thought of leaving them almost unbearable. Almost.


    A soft weight pressed against his lap, and he glanced down to find Inkwell curled into a tight ball, purring softly. The small calico kitten barely stirred as Soya ran a hand down her back, her fur warm beneath his fingers. She was lucky¡ªshe could sleep in. He, however, had classes to attend.


    With a resigned sigh, Soya stretched, rolling his shoulders before standing. He moved through the quiet dormitory with practiced ease, gathering his robes and adjusting the straps of his ever-present bag. He had barely slung it over his shoulder when a familiar voice broke the morning silence.


    ¡°You look like you spent the night trying to solve theoretical runic equations in your sleep.¡±


    Soya turned to find Draven leaning against the doorframe of their shared dorm, arms crossed, his ever-present leather journal tucked beneath one arm. His sharp gray eyes studied Soya with their usual calculating intensity, though the slight twitch at the corner of his lips betrayed mild amusement.


    Soya let out a dry breath, rubbing a hand through his still-messy hair. ¡°No, but thanks for the concern,¡± he muttered. ¡°Maybe I just hate mornings.¡±


    Draven gave a small, knowing nod. ¡°A reasonable stance.¡±


    Before Soya could respond, another voice interrupted¡ªlouder, more animated. ¡°Mornin¡¯, gentlemen!¡±


    Davonte strode into the room, his usual effortless confidence on full display. His slightly unkempt brown hair was still damp from a hurried attempt at fixing it, but his grin was as bright as ever.


    ¡°Ah, Soya, you¡¯re finally up. You missed a solid five minutes of me debating whether or not to turn into a bear to avoid class today.¡± He clapped a hand on Soya¡¯s shoulder as he passed, making it very clear that he hadn¡¯t actually considered attending class in that form.


    Soya quirked a brow. ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°I decided against it.¡± Davonte sighed dramatically, as if deeply disappointed by his own responsible choice. ¡°But only because the desks aren¡¯t bear-sized, and I don¡¯t want to deal with that level of judgment.¡±


    Draven tilted his head slightly. ¡°You¡¯re already judged for your abysmal academic performance. I doubt turning into a bear would shift public opinion in a direction that matters.¡±


    Davonte shot him a wounded look. ¡°I don¡¯t need this kind of negativity before breakfast.¡±


    Soya exhaled a small laugh. It was too early for whatever this conversation had become, but somehow, it was also exactly what he needed.


    The three of them made their way out of the dormitory, their footsteps echoing lightly against the polished wooden floors of the Thylacea common room. The space was still mostly empty, save for a few early risers scattered throughout, some poring over textbooks, others lazily stretching out on the long couches. The massive, enchanted mural of the Australian bush along the far wall flickered slightly, shifting with the soft hues of the rising sun.


    Soya adjusted the strap of his bag as they stepped out into the halls, the distant hum of morning activity growing louder with every turn.


    ¡°I¡¯m starving,¡± Davonte groaned, rubbing a hand over his stomach. ¡°I swear, if they don¡¯t have eggs today, I might stage a coup.¡±


    Draven gave him a sidelong glance. ¡°On what grounds?¡±


    ¡°On the grounds that I require sustenance to function at my full capacity.¡± Davonte gestured dramatically. ¡°I¡¯m a growing young man, Draven.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve already stopped growing,¡± Draven pointed out flatly.


    ¡°Emotionally, sure. But physically? Who knows?¡± Davonte shrugged. ¡°Maybe I have one final growth spurt left.¡±


    Soya shook his head, amused. ¡°You¡¯re not suddenly going to wake up a foot taller.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know that,¡± Davonte countered. ¡°It could happen.¡±


    Draven sighed, the closest he ever came to an eye roll. ¡°The delusion is fascinating.¡±


    As they continued down the corridor, the scent of breakfast grew stronger, mingling with the familiar chatter of students making their way toward the Great Hall. The morning light spilling in from the high windows made the castle feel less imposing, the ancient stone walls taking on a softer, more welcoming glow.


    Soya found himself settling into the rhythm of the morning¡ªhis initial drowsiness fading, replaced by the quiet comfort of routine.


    He didn¡¯t know that, soon enough, this morning would be anything but normal.


    The Great Hall was alive with the usual morning bustle¡ªstudents chatting between mouthfuls of breakfast, the occasional flutter of owls delivering letters, and the ever-present hum of dishes clinking as food magically appeared across the long tables. The enchanted ceiling reflected the sky outside, a soft, pastel morning hue streaked with the last remnants of dawn.


    Soya slid onto a bench at the Thylacea table, setting his bag beside him before reaching for a piece of toast. Draven took a seat across from him, while Davonte plopped down beside Soya with all the grace of a man who had just completed an exhausting trek through the wilderness, rather than a short walk from the dormitories.


    ¡°Oh, thank everything,¡± Davonte groaned as he piled food onto his plate. ¡°Eggs. Crisis averted.¡±


    Soya smirked, buttering his toast. ¡°I was worried about you for a second.¡±


    ¡°Right?¡± Davonte said, through a mouthful of food. ¡°This school would¡¯ve been in chaos if I¡¯d been forced to eat something subpar.¡± He washed it down with a swig of pumpkin juice before turning back to Draven. ¡°Now, back to my very important argument. We¡¯re only eleven, which means I definitely still have time to grow. You¡¯re acting like I¡¯m already at my final height.¡±


    Draven, who had been calmly cutting into a slice of fruit, glanced at him with mild disinterest. ¡°Statistically, your largest growth spurts should occur between the ages of ten and fifteen. However, since you have inherited your father¡¯s build, and he is not particularly tall, it is unlikely you will surpass your current trajectory by any significant margin.¡±


    Davonte blinked at him. ¡°Was that a polite way of saying I¡¯m doomed to be short forever?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Soya snorted, taking a sip of his juice. Davonte turned his attention to him with a pointed look. ¡°Alright, well, you have no room to talk.¡±


    Soya raised a brow. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the smallest person in this entire school,¡± Davonte said, motioning toward him as if he were presenting a case before a jury. ¡°You and, maybe, maybe Salem and Sage. And that¡¯s being generous.¡±


    Soya rolled his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not that small.¡±


    Draven, unbothered, finished a bite of his food before countering, ¡°You are.¡±


    Davonte nodded firmly. ¡°Exactly! You¡¯re like¡­ a wizarding pocket edition.¡±


    Soya shot him a deadpan stare. ¡°That¡¯s not a thing.¡±


    ¡°It should be,¡± Davonte muttered, shoving another bite of egg into his mouth. ¡°A limited-release Soya, perfect for travel.¡±


    ¡°I hate everything about this conversation,¡± Soya said, reaching for another slice of toast.


    Draven, ever the neutral observer, added, ¡°Technically, height does not define one¡¯s magical prowess. If it did, Grundle Strang would be the most powerful student in Austramore.¡±


    Davonte pointed at him. ¡°Okay, first of all, Grundle could crush us all with his pinky if he really wanted to. That guy is built like a literal mountain.¡±


    ¡°Half-giant,¡± Draven supplied.


    ¡°Exactly! And second of all¡ªSoya¡¯s tiny.¡± Davonte gave Soya a playful nudge. ¡°But it¡¯s fine. You make up for it by being terrifyingly good at magic.¡±


    Soya shook his head, trying¡ªand failing¡ªto suppress a small smile. ¡°I¡¯m not terrifyingly good at anything.¡±


    ¡°Sure, sure,¡± Davonte said, waving his fork. ¡°Except, you know, completely outpacing the rest of us in spellwork and being the first Muggle-born to ever attend Austramore. But yeah, totally nothing special going on there.¡±


    Soya shrugged, uncomfortable with the attention but not wanting to dampen the conversation. ¡°It¡¯s not like I¡¯m doing it on purpose.¡±


    Davonte snorted. ¡°That somehow makes it worse.¡±


    Draven nodded in agreement. ¡°You are naturally talented, but unaware of the extent of it. That is, objectively, more frustrating than deliberate arrogance.¡±


    Soya sighed, defeated. ¡°So what I¡¯m hearing is, I can¡¯t win.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Davonte said cheerfully, piling more food onto his plate.


    Soya shook his head but let the conversation drift into other topics as they continued their breakfast. He hadn¡¯t realized how much he needed the familiar banter, the simple routine of morning chatter before the day truly began. It was easy, comfortable.


    But something lingered at the back of his mind, a strange sensation he couldn¡¯t quite place.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    As if something in the day ahead wasn¡¯t going to be so easy after all.


    The halls of Austramore bustled with students making their way to their first class of the day. The morning air was crisp, and the faint hum of casual conversation echoed through the grand stone corridors. Soya, Draven, and Davonte walked together, their conversation carrying over from breakfast, though Soya¡¯s mind was already shifting toward their upcoming Charms lesson.


    ¡°I¡¯m telling you,¡± Davonte said as they passed a cluster of younger students, ¡°if I could enchant my quill to do all my classwork for me, I¡¯d finally be able to achieve my life¡¯s dream¡ªgetting through an entire school year without lifting a finger.¡±


    ¡°That is not a dream,¡± Draven said dryly. ¡°That is academic fraud.¡±


    Davonte waved a dismissive hand. ¡°Fraud, genius¡ªwho¡¯s to say, really?¡±


    Soya shook his head, amused but focused on the path ahead. They were just a few halls away from the Charms classroom when a familiar voice called out from behind them.


    ¡°Mr. Vareen.¡±


    The three of them turned in unison.


    Professor Marilla stood just a few paces away, her posture poised and composed as ever. Her dark robes draped elegantly over her frame, and her sharp eyes fixed directly on Soya. There was nothing outwardly alarming about her presence, but something about the way she addressed him sent a faint shiver down his spine.


    ¡°I need to speak with you for a moment,¡± she continued, her voice smooth, practiced. ¡°Mr. Evander, Mr. Corvidus ¡ªyou may continue on to class.¡±


    Davonte hesitated, glancing at Soya. ¡°Uh¡­ okay. Guess we¡¯ll save you a seat?¡±


    Soya nodded slowly. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯ll be there in a minute.¡±


    Draven studied Marilla carefully, his expression unreadable, but after a brief pause, he simply nodded and turned, walking off with Davonte toward the Charms corridor.


    Soya shifted his bag slightly, suddenly feeling the weight of it more than before. He wasn¡¯t sure why, but something about this felt¡­ off.


    Marilla offered him a polite smile, though it didn¡¯t quite reach her eyes. ¡°I wanted to return something of yours,¡± she said, her voice carrying the same air of authority it always did. ¡°Your missing sketchbook.¡±


    Soya blinked. ¡°My¡ª?¡± He barely stopped himself from finishing the sentence. His sketchbook? The one he¡¯d lost weeks ago?


    He frowned slightly. That didn¡¯t make sense. He had already replaced it. At least, he thought he had. There had been that day in class where he¡¯d suddenly realized it was missing¡­ but Marilla had given him a new one, hadn¡¯t she? Had she¡­ found the old one after all this time?


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ weird,¡± he said, shifting his stance slightly. ¡°Where was it?¡±


    Marilla tilted her head slightly, as if considering the question. ¡°It was misplaced in another classroom. I left it in one just down the hall.¡±


    Soya hesitated.


    Something was wrong.


    There was no logical reason she would only be returning it now. No reason why she wouldn¡¯t have just handed it to him in the hall instead of making him go somewhere else for it.


    But before he could think of a way to decline, Marilla turned gracefully, gesturing for him to follow. ¡°Come. It won¡¯t take long.¡±


    His hesitation lasted only a second too long, and in that brief moment, his body moved on instinct.


    It¡¯s just a sketchbook. If she had it all along, maybe she really did just find it.


    The logic was thin, but he followed anyway.


    Marilla led him down the corridor, further away from the bustling halls and toward a quieter wing of the school.


    It wasn¡¯t far, but something about the atmosphere shifted with every step.


    The torches flickered differently here. The walls seemed taller. The air felt colder.


    They stopped at a classroom door, identical to countless others in the castle. Marilla opened it with a simple flick of her wand.


    ¡°Inside,¡± she said smoothly.


    Soya hesitated again, but there was no clear reason to refuse. He stepped forward, glancing around. The room was empty, desks arranged neatly as if waiting for students who would never come.


    And then, the door clicked shut behind him.


    Soya turned sharply.


    Marilla stood ahead of him, but something had changed. The poised, composed professor was still there¡ªbut her posture was different. The subtle warmth she wore in public was gone. In its place was something else entirely.


    Something colder.


    Something watching.


    A sharp, instinctive warning rang through Soya¡¯s mind.


    He took a step back, suddenly hyper-aware of just how alone they were.


    ¡°Where¡¯s my sketchbook?¡± he asked, his voice carefully neutral.


    Marilla smiled, but it was nothing like the polite expression she¡¯d worn moments ago.


    ¡°Oh, Soya,¡± she murmured.


    And then the lights in the room flickered.


    And the lock behind him clicked shut.


    The air inside the classroom shifted.


    Soya¡¯s breath came slow and measured, his back stiff as he watched Marilla¡ªno, Salsiar¡ªstand between him and the locked door. There was something deeply unnatural about the way she moved now, something that made every instinct in him scream to run.


    Then, without warning, she exhaled a slow breath, and the air around her bent.


    Soya felt it¡ªsomething¡ªa deep, unseen pressure that pressed against his skin, against the very magic in the air itself. And then, just as suddenly as it came, it snapped.


    Marilla''s body convulsed.


    A sharp gasp escaped her lips, her limbs jerking as if an invisible force was ripping her apart from the inside. Soya staggered back as a thick, unnatural blackness poured from her mouth, her eyes rolling back into her head.


    Then¡ªshe fell.


    Her body hit the stone floor with a lifeless thud, her once-composed form now limp, unmoving.


    But Soya barely had time to register it before the darkness rose.


    It twisted, coiled, slithering through the air like a living thing. A figure emerged from it¡ªtall, towering, broad-shouldered, his body made of shifting, writhing shadows that pulsed with an eerie, unnatural glow.


    Salsiar.


    The real Salsiar.


    His piercing yellow eyes snapped onto Soya, and for the first time, Soya felt something that he had never quite experienced before.


    Not fear. Not confusion.


    Something deeper. Something wrong.


    Salsiar took a step forward. The air around him rippled, bending the very magic in the room as he reached out.


    ¡°You have something I need.¡±


    Soya jerked backward, heart pounding as he moved on instinct. His hand flew to his wand, but before he could lift it, dark tendrils lashed out, wrapping around his wrist, his waist, yanking him forward like he weighed nothing at all.


    The force sent a sharp jolt through his spine as Salsiar gripped him, his clawed fingers pressing into his shoulder like iron. Soya struggled, twisting, his body reacting faster than his mind. But the demon¡¯s grip was unyielding, his presence suffocating.


    ¡°You have power, boy,¡± Salsiar murmured, his voice like gravel and oil, thick and suffocating. ¡°Power unlike anything I¡¯ve seen in centuries.¡±


    Soya clenched his teeth, every muscle in his body screaming to move, to fight, to do something. But the shadows around him only tightened, like invisible chains pulling him deeper into their grasp.


    And then¡ª


    The door slammed open.


    A bolt of violet light shot through the room, striking Salsiar¡¯s outstretched arm with a force that sent him staggering back.


    Soya hit the ground with a sharp inhale, the sudden lack of restraint sending him tumbling onto the cold stone floor.


    And standing in the doorway, wand raised, expression calm but lethal¡ª


    Lykaios.


    Her icy blue eyes locked onto Salsiar with a gaze that burned cold, unreadable. The moment she stepped forward, shadows curled and recoiled around her, as if sensing something they didn¡¯t like.


    She lifted her wand again.


    ¡°Astrae Vincula.¡±


    Silver chains of pure magical energy erupted from her wand, wrapping around Salsiar¡¯s form before he could fully recover. The runes within the bindings pulsed¡ªunstable, strained¡ªbut holding.


    For now.


    Soya coughed, pushing himself up onto his elbows, his pulse still hammering against his ribs.


    Lykaios didn¡¯t look at him.


    Her entire focus remained on Salsiar.


    ¡°I hate demons,¡± she murmured, her voice eerily casual.


    Salsiar¡¯s lip curled, his body writhing against the chains, his shadows twisting and snapping at the bindings like wild animals. But he didn¡¯t panic.


    He just smiled.


    ¡°You¡¯re strong,¡± he said, his tone almost approving. ¡°But not strong enough.¡±


    Lykaios¡¯s expression remained impassive, but her grip on her wand tightened. Soya could see it¡ªshe was struggling.


    The runes flickered, just slightly.


    Then¡ª


    Another presence filled the room.


    Not like Salsiar.


    Not like Lykaios.


    But something equally heavy. Equally commanding.


    Soya felt it before he even saw him.


    Seikan Blackthorn.


    The professor stepped inside, his emerald green eyes cold and unreadable as they locked onto the scene before him. He didn¡¯t react to Marilla¡¯s unconscious form. He didn¡¯t react to the chains barely holding Salsiar in place.


    He simply took in the situation.


    And then, in a voice like cut stone¡ª


    ¡°Leave.¡±


    Soya exhaled sharply.


    Lykaios¡¯s wand twitched, her hesitation almost imperceptible.


    Sevrin stood just outside the doorway, lingering in the shadows of the hall, his expression unreadable as he watched from a distance. He didn¡¯t step forward. He didn¡¯t speak.


    He had done what he needed to do.


    And now¡ª


    This was no longer his battle.


    Seikan took a slow step forward, his presence alone shifting the very air in the room. The runes on Lykaios¡¯s bindings flickered¡ªalmost reacting to him.


    Salsiar, for the first time, looked at him with something that was not amusement.


    But neither was it fear.


    Just... calculation.


    Seikan tilted his head slightly, his voice low. ¡°I said leave.¡±


    Lykaios held her gaze for a moment longer, then¡ªwithout another word¡ªreleased the spell.


    The bindings unraveled, fading into nothing.


    She turned sharply, grabbed Soya by the wrist, and yanked him toward the door.


    Soya hesitated, glancing back at Seikan. The professor still hadn¡¯t lifted his wand. Still hadn¡¯t moved beyond that one step.


    But his presence alone was enough.


    Soya swallowed hard, letting himself be pulled from the room.


    And just as they stepped into the hallway¡ªjust as the door shut behind them¡ª


    Sevrin, still standing there, his face shadowed, exhaled quietly.


    ¡°¡­That thing,¡± he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, ¡°was never Marilla.¡±


    Lykaios didn¡¯t react.


    Soya didn¡¯t speak.


    But none of them had to.


    Because from inside the room, the first real clash of magic ignited, sending a shockwave of power rippling through the walls of Austramore.


    And Seikan¡¯s battle had begun.

 Chapter 43: Classroom Brawl

    The air inside the chamber was suffocating. A thick, unnatural pressure hung in the atmosphere, unseen but felt in the marrow of Seikan¡¯s bones. It was the weight of something old, something powerful¡ªsomething wrong. Across from him, Salsiar stood unnervingly still, his golden, predator-like eyes fixed on Seikan with an amusement that barely concealed his malice.


    Seikan didn¡¯t speak. There was no need for words. He had already analyzed the situation, the room, the exits, the obstacles. Every detail had been calculated, every variable accounted for. He knew that brute force was useless against a creature like this. Salsiar was not human, not truly. He was a being that existed outside of wizarding logic, beyond the reach of simple spells.


    But Seikan had never been a simple wizard.


    The first attack was immediate, a bolt of sickly green light slicing through the air like a dagger. Avada Kedavra. A spell designed to be unavoidable, unblockable¡ªbut only if the victim allowed it to be.


    Seikan didn¡¯t move. He didn¡¯t dodge. Instead, his wand flicked upward. Protego! The defensive charm was not enough to stop a Killing Curse on its own, but Seikan had no intention of blocking it directly. His free hand twitched, and with an unseen force, a heavy wooden chair from the side of the room was yanked in front of him. The curse struck the chair instead, and with a hollow thunk, the wood darkened and collapsed into lifeless ash.


    Salsiar narrowed his eyes. ¡°Clever.¡±


    Seikan ignored him. Words were a distraction. Instead, he moved.


    A flick of his wand sent a barrage of runes flying, glowing sigils of ancient power searing through the air. Salsiar responded with a lazy wave of his own hand, black tendrils of energy coiling outwards to intercept the magic. The moment of impact sent a shockwave through the chamber, the force rattling the desks and chairs around them.


    Seikan was already repositioning. His movements were methodical, precise. He knew that wizards fought with their wands. But true magic¡ªhis magic¡ªwas not confined to a single tool. He understood spells. He understood their function, their behavior, their weaknesses.


    Another flick of his wrist, and the desks between them lifted, hovering in the air for less than a second before hurling forward like projectiles. Salsiar batted them aside effortlessly, but Seikan had already predicted that. It was a feint.


    With a whispered incantation, the shattered remains of the desks erupted into Runes of Binding, dark chains of energy lashing out from the debris. They wrapped around Salsiar¡¯s limbs, crackling with arcane energy designed to suppress movement and drain magic.


    For the first time, Salsiar¡¯s expression changed.


    But it was not fear.


    It was delight.


    ¡°Ah,¡± the demon mused, testing the bindings as if they were nothing more than silk threads. ¡°So you do have something beneath that frigid exterior.¡±


    Seikan¡¯s grip on his wand tightened. His mind was still sharp, still cold, but his pulse was hammering in his ears. It was not fear. It was rage.


    Sevrin had told him everything. This was the creature that had ordered his son¡¯s death.


    His son.


    Seikan did not speak of love. He did not show it. He did not know how. But he felt it¡ªdeep, buried beneath the ice of his exterior, beneath the layers of control and calculation. It was there, smoldering like embers beneath ash.


    And now, for the first time in years, the embers flared into something more.


    Seikan did not hesitate.


    A rune burned into the air before him, an intricate sigil drawn in a single, fluid motion. The temperature in the room dropped instantly. The torches lining the walls flickered and dimmed, the shadows stretching unnaturally.


    Rune of Decay.


    The moment the magic activated, the chains constricting Salsiar pulsed with a sickly glow. They began to rot away at the demon¡¯s form, leeching the very essence from his being.


    Salsiar let out a slow exhale.


    Then he grinned.


    The air exploded.


    A pulse of raw, malevolent energy surged outward, obliterating the binding runes in an instant. Seikan barely had time to react, throwing up another desk as a makeshift shield before the force sent him skidding backward. His boots scraped against the stone floor as he came to a stop, eyes locked on his opponent.


    Salsiar¡¯s form was changing.


    The illusion of humanity cracked like shattered glass. His features stretched, warped¡ªhis flesh shifting into something darker, something monstrous. His eyes burned like molten gold, his grin splitting wider, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth.


    ¡°You have potential,¡± Salsiar mused, voice reverberating with unnatural resonance. ¡°But you hesitate. That is why you will lose.¡±


    Seikan remained silent. He was already moving, already planning. There was no hesitation in his mind¡ªonly the next move, the next calculation.


    He would not lose.


    Not to this.


    Not to him.


    The fight did not pause.


    Salsiar lunged.


    Seikan moved.


    A blast of blackened energy cut through the air where Seikan had stood only a moment before, the force shattering the stone floor in a violent eruption of dust and debris. But Seikan was already several steps ahead, his mind operating at a speed beyond conscious thought. He had spent his entire life studying spellcraft¡ªnot just in theory, but in its behavior, in the way magic moved. He knew how spells flowed, how they interacted. And most importantly¡ªhow to weaponize them.


    Salsiar¡¯s next attack came without warning, a streak of molten gold arcing toward him with a sickening, twisting motion. It didn¡¯t move like a normal curse; it slithered, hunting for a target like a living thing.


    Seikan flicked his wand¡ªProtego!¡ªbut instead of blocking, he angled the barrier downward at the last second, redirecting the spell into the ground. The instant the energy struck the stone, Seikan moved again, wand flashing through the air as he pulled a desk into his hands.


    Salsiar sneered. ¡°Another shield? You¡¯re running out of tricks, professor.¡±


    Seikan didn¡¯t answer.


    Because the desk wasn¡¯t a shield.


    With a single, calculated motion, he hurled it forward.


    Salsiar reacted as expected, raising an arm to blast it apart with magic¡ªjust like Seikan wanted.


    A split-second before impact, Seikan flicked his wand downward. Depulso!


    The desk dropped midair, evading Salsiar¡¯s counterattack entirely, and before the demon could react¡ª


    It slammed into his legs, knocking him off balance.


    Seikan didn¡¯t waste the opening. Bombarda!


    The force of the explosion sent Salsiar skidding backward, his form twisting unnaturally as the sheer impact of the attack rattled the chamber. For a brief, fleeting moment, Seikan thought he had managed to stagger him¡ª


    But then he saw it.


    The grin.


    Salsiar straightened, rolling his shoulders as the unnatural golden glow in his eyes flickered with something sinister. ¡°You fight well,¡± he admitted, amusement curling through his voice. ¡°Most wizards waste their spells. But you¡ªyou understand magic in a way that few ever do.¡±


    Seikan did not react to the praise.


    Because it was not praise.


    It was bait.


    And Seikan did not take bait.


    But then¡ª


    Salsiar¡¯s expression shifted.


    The air grew heavier.


    And the next words that left his lips carried a weight that sent something cold running through Seikan¡¯s veins.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to die here, you know.¡±


    Seikan¡¯s grip on his wand tightened.


    ¡°I¡¯ll make you an offer,¡± Salsiar continued, tone almost casual. ¡°Hand over the Vareen boy, and I will allow you to leave this place alive.¡±


    A slow silence stretched between them.


    Seikan did not speak. Did not move.


    He simply stared.


    And then¡ªsomething changed.


    The quiet fury that had burned beneath the surface, the rage he had suppressed for so long¡ª


    It cracked.


    Salsiar¡¯s grin widened, as if sensing it. ¡°I know you care about your students,¡± he murmured. ¡°And I know you are¡­ fond of them. But is it worth your life?¡±


    Seikan¡¯s knuckles were white.


    Sage was dead.


    Because of him.


    Because of this thing.


    And now¡ª


    Now he was standing here, daring to suggest that Seikan hand over another student?


    Soya.


    A child.


    A Muggle-born child.


    A boy who had nothing, no magical family, no legacy, and yet still fought¡ªwho learned magic faster than anyone had any right to. Who carried a power none of them understood.


    And Salsiar wanted him.


    Seikan inhaled slowly.


    And then, finally¡ª


    He spoke.


    ¡°You truly do not understand me.¡±


    The room shifted.


    Salsiar tilted his head, intrigued.


    Seikan took a single step forward.


    ¡°I do not make deals with things like you.¡±


    The temperature in the chamber dropped.


    For the first time, something in Seikan¡¯s presence felt dangerous.


    ¡°You believe yourself above men. You believe yourself beyond wizards.¡±


    Another step.


    Salsiar¡¯s grin didn¡¯t falter, but he did not move either.


    Seikan lifted his wand, but this time, he did not raise it to cast.


    He simply pointed it at Salsiar¡¯s chest.


    ¡°I am not a man.¡±


    Salsiar¡¯s eyes narrowed.


    ¡°I am not a wizard.¡±


    The walls creaked. The torches dimmed.


    ¡°I am something far worse.¡±


    Salsiar finally frowned.


    Seikan exhaled¡ªslow, measured.


    ¡°I am a father,¡± he whispered. ¡°And you killed my son.¡±


    And then¡ª


    The room exploded into fire.


    Soya stood outside the classroom, frozen.


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    The sounds coming from within were unlike anything he had ever heard. Spells colliding, stone shattering, the deep, unnatural hum of something wrong twisting the very air around them. It wasn¡¯t like a duel between students. It wasn¡¯t even like a duel between wizards.


    This was something else entirely.


    Sevrin was still nearby, standing a short distance from the door, arms crossed, his face unreadable. Lykaios was perfectly still, staring at the closed door, listening. The only indication that she was affected at all was the faint twitch of her fingers against her wand, as if debating whether or not to go back inside.


    But none of them moved.


    Because none of them could interfere.


    A new impact shook the walls, and Soya flinched.


    Then¡ª


    Footsteps.


    Casual, leisurely, unbothered footsteps approaching from down the hall.


    Soya turned his head in time to see none other than Boromus Spellchecker¡ªHeadmaster of Austramore, eccentric and impossible to predict, a man who often seemed lost in his own world¡ªstrolling toward them as if this were any other normal morning.


    The Headmaster¡¯s long robes trailed behind him, mismatched patches sewn in by hand, his wild silver hair as unkempt as ever. He hummed softly to himself, seemingly oblivious to the violent battle happening behind the door in front of him.


    He came to a stop just outside the classroom, staring at the closed door.


    Then, with the mild curiosity of a man checking if a shop was still open, he reached out and gave the handle a light wiggle.


    It did not move.


    Boromus let out a soft sigh, shaking his head. ¡°Ah, doors,¡± he mused to himself. ¡°Always locking me out of my own school. Rude.¡±


    Soya blinked.


    Was he¡ªwas he serious?


    Another violent crash came from within, followed by the unmistakable sound of a spell igniting something. The temperature in the hall wavered, as if the very magic in the air was recoiling from the sheer force being used inside.


    Boromus barely seemed to notice.


    Instead, he pulled out his wand¡ªan ancient, deeply grooved thing, thicker than most wands, its surface worn down by years of use. Without pausing, without hesitating, without even looking concerned, he flicked it toward the door.


    ¡°Depulso.¡±


    The door exploded off its hinges.


    Not in a dramatic, fiery blast. Not in a way that sent shrapnel flying.


    No¡ªjust one, clean, casual BOOM¡ªand the heavy wooden door shot inward like a battering ram, crossing the room at full speed¡ª


    ¡ªAnd slamming directly into Salsiar¡¯s face.


    The demon staggered, his form shifting and distorting from the sheer impact. A noise somewhere between a grunt and an animalistic snarl escaped his lips, and the moment of shock was enough for Seikan to step forward, wand raised, already preparing his next move.


    But before he could strike¡ª


    Boromus strolled inside.


    Soya could only watch in stunned silence as the Headmaster walked past him, past Lykaios, stepping over the remains of the now very open doorway. His expression was entirely neutral, as if he had not just casually assaulted a powerful demon with a door.


    He took in the scene with mild interest, then turned his gaze to Seikan.


    ¡°Ah, there you are,¡± Boromus said, his tone light. ¡°I felt immense, lethal magic being used and feared some of my students were making a bit of a mess of things.¡± He tilted his head, glancing between the debris and the smoldering scorch marks on the walls. ¡°But I see it¡¯s just you, Seikan. Playing with a friend.¡±


    Seikan did not react.


    Salsiar, now standing, shaking off the impact, looked¡ªannoyed.


    He let out a sharp exhale, rolling his shoulders as if to shake off his frustration. ¡°Who in the hell are you supposed to be?¡±


    Boromus blinked.


    For a moment, he seemed genuinely surprised by the question.


    Then, with a pleasant smile, he gestured to himself.


    ¡°Oh, I suppose you wouldn¡¯t know me,¡± he said cheerfully. ¡°Boromus Spellchecker. Headmaster of this fine establishment.¡±


    The instant the words left his mouth¡ª


    Salsiar froze.


    His eyes widened¡ªtruly widened¡ªfor the first time since the fight began.


    Boromus tilted his head, watching. ¡°Ah. That name means something to you, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    The moment stretched.


    And then¡ª


    Salsiar moved.


    Not to attack. Not to fight.


    But to run.


    Without hesitation, without a single word, his body morphed, shifting into a swirling, black mist. The movement was violent, unnatural, as if the very fabric of the room rejected his presence.


    And then, with an earsplitting howl, the mist erupted outward¡ª


    ¡ªAnd shot through the shattered window, disappearing out of sight.


    A heavy silence followed.


    Soya barely dared to breathe.


    Then¡ª


    Boromus sighed, tucking his wand back into his robes.


    ¡°Well, that was dramatic,¡± he murmured, glancing toward the ruined window. ¡°Couldn¡¯t even stay for tea.¡±


    Seikan, still standing in the center of the destruction, let out a slow breath, lowering his wand.


    Boromus smiled pleasantly.


    ¡°So,¡± he said, clapping his hands together. ¡°Would you like to explain what in Merlin¡¯s name just happened, or shall I assume you already know I¡¯m going to find out either way?¡±


    The air in the ruined classroom was still thick with residual magic. Faint embers flickered where spells had scorched the stone, and the heavy scent of charred wood lingered from the destruction. Seikan stood amid the wreckage, his wand lowered, his breathing measured.


    Boromus, unbothered by the chaos around him, turned to face him fully, hands tucked comfortably into the loose folds of his patched robes. His expression was pleasant, but his sharp, knowing gaze missed nothing.


    ¡°Well then,¡± the Headmaster mused, stepping carefully over a pile of splintered desks. ¡°That was quite the show, Seikan. I¡¯d ask if you¡¯re all right, but something tells me you wouldn¡¯t answer honestly even if you weren¡¯t.¡±


    Seikan exhaled slowly. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    ¡°Ah, of course,¡± Boromus said lightly. ¡°And I suppose now would be a good time for you to tell me why there was an ancient demon throwing spells at you inside my school?¡±


    Seikan remained silent for a moment, his mind sorting through everything that had happened in the past hour. Then, finally, he spoke.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know much,¡± he admitted, his voice level. ¡°Sevrin brought me this information only recently.¡±


    Boromus¡¯s gaze flickered toward the boy still standing just outside the threshold of the ruined door. ¡°Did he now?¡±


    Sevrin, for once, looked less composed than usual. His arms remained crossed over his chest, but there was a stiffness in his shoulders that hadn''t been there before. He was watching everything carefully, calculating, but there was no defiance in his expression¡ªonly quiet observation.


    Seikan continued. ¡°From what I was told, Salsiar has been here for some time. Hidden. He arrived during the attack months ago and has remained ever since. He¡¯s been possessing Professor Marilla, using her to move undetected.¡±


    Boromus nodded absently, pacing a slow circle around the wreckage, humming as if considering something mundane. ¡°Mm. That would explain the rather unusual inconsistencies in her behavior this term. Not to mention why I kept getting the distinct feeling I was being watched whenever she was in the same room.¡±


    He paused, tapping his chin. ¡°How terribly impolite of him.¡±


    Seikan did not react to the humor. ¡°He¡¯s been interested in Soya.¡±


    Boromus¡¯s expression did not change, but something in the air around him shifted¡ªa subtle, almost imperceptible disturbance, like the first ripple on the surface of a still lake.


    ¡°I see,¡± he murmured. ¡°And what, exactly, does he want with the boy?¡±


    Seikan shook his head. ¡°That, I don¡¯t know. But he made it clear that Soya is important. He was willing to offer me my life in exchange for handing him over.¡±


    Boromus let out a low whistle. ¡°Generous.¡±


    ¡°I declined.¡±


    Boromus chuckled. ¡°Of course you did.¡±


    A pause.


    Then, his gaze slid back toward Sevrin. ¡°And you, young Verelle?¡±


    Sevrin¡¯s green eyes flickered, but he did not look away. ¡°What about me?¡±


    ¡°You seem to have had quite a bit of information before anyone else did,¡± Boromus said casually. ¡°And yet, from what I gather, you were working under Salsiar until very recently.¡±


    Sevrin¡¯s lips pressed together in a thin line. He was silent for a long moment, his mind turning behind his cold expression. Then, with his usual measured tone, he finally answered.


    ¡°I did,¡± he said simply.


    Boromus raised an eyebrow. ¡°And why, pray tell, did you stop?¡±


    Sevrin¡¯s expression did not change, but something in his posture shifted. ¡°Because I realized I had no future under him.¡±


    Boromus tilted his head. ¡°Is that all?¡±


    Sevrin hesitated.


    Then, his eyes flickered toward Seikan before settling back on the Headmaster.


    ¡°He ordered me to kill Sage,¡± he said flatly. ¡°So I did.¡±


    Boromus was quiet.


    Then, after a moment, he smiled.


    Not cruelly. Not mockingly.


    Just softly.


    And then¡ªhe laughed.


    Sevrin¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡±


    Boromus shook his head, looking mildly amused as he clasped his hands behind his back. ¡°Oh, my dear boy,¡± he said, voice warm with the kind of humor reserved for the deeply ironic. ¡°You did a poor job of it.¡±


    Sevrin stiffened.


    ¡°What?¡±


    Boromus sighed, shaking his head as if he found the whole thing mildly inconvenient. ¡°Sage Blackthorn was found not long ago. And, much to my personal relief, he is very much alive.¡±


    Sevrin did not move.


    He did not react.


    But Soya could see it¡ªthe way his fingers curled just slightly at his sides, the way his normally razor-sharp expression faltered for just a fraction of a second.


    Boromus smiled pleasantly.


    ¡°He¡¯s currently in the Medical Wing,¡± the Headmaster continued, ¡°no doubt being a rather miserable patient. But yes¡ªalive. Which means, dear Sevrin, that you failed.¡±


    A silence stretched through the corridor.


    Sevrin remained still.


    And then, with a slow, exhale¡ª


    ¡°¡­I see.¡±


    Boromus clapped his hands together. ¡°Marvelous! Now that that¡¯s settled¡ªSeikan, do make sure your sons stay alive, will you? It¡¯s such a dreadful bother keeping track of them when they start vanishing like this.¡±


    Seikan sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll do what I can.¡±


    ¡°Good man.¡±


    And with that, Boromus turned on his heel, his mismatched robes sweeping behind him as he began strolling down the hall as if he had not just single-handedly forced an ancient demon into retreat with little more than his presence.


    Soya, still trying to process everything that had just happened, turned toward Sevrin.


    He had expected some kind of reaction.


    Anger. Frustration. A sharp, biting comment.


    But Sevrin only stared at the floor, his expression unreadable.


    Soya wasn¡¯t sure, but for just a moment¡ª


    He thought he saw the faintest flicker of something uncertain in his eyes.


    And then, as quickly as it came, it was gone.


    The chaos had settled.


    With Salsiar gone and Boromus wandering off in his usual eccentric fashion, the aftermath of the battle left a strange silence in its wake. Seikan stood in the ruined classroom, his sharp green eyes scanning the unconscious form of Professor Marilla, who lay motionless on the cold stone floor.


    Soya had barely had a moment to process everything that had happened before Seikan turned toward him.


    ¡°Vareen,¡± Seikan said evenly.


    Soya tensed, instinctively wary. He hadn¡¯t done anything wrong¡ªat least, not recently¡ªbut there was something about Seikan that always made people feel like they should be guilty of something.


    ¡°Yes, sir?¡±


    Seikan glanced down at Marilla¡¯s body. ¡°Help me carry her to the Medical Wing.¡±


    Soya blinked.


    ¡°¡­You could do that yourself.¡±


    Seikan gave him a dry look. ¡°I am aware.¡±


    Then why¡ª


    Oh.


    Soya exhaled through his nose. He wants to talk to me alone.


    He didn¡¯t argue. Without another word, he knelt beside the unconscious professor, taking hold of her legs while Seikan slid his hands under her arms, taking most of the weight. Together, they lifted her with little difficulty, though Seikan found himself doing most of the balance work.


    The hallway was quiet as they walked.


    Soya waited.


    Seikan wasn¡¯t the kind of man to waste time with small talk. If he had something to say, he would say it. And sure enough¡ªafter a long moment of silence, he spoke.


    ¡°Salsiar was after you.¡±


    Soya swallowed but didn¡¯t stop walking. ¡°¡­I noticed.¡±


    ¡°Do you know why?¡±


    Soya frowned. ¡°No.¡±


    Seikan¡¯s gaze flickered toward him, unreadable.


    ¡°No ideas at all?¡±


    Soya hesitated.


    For a long time, he had kept it to himself. The way his drawings moved sometimes, how the ink swirled in ways that shouldn¡¯t have been possible. The runes that appeared on his parchment¡ªrunes he had never learned but could write as if he had known them his whole life.


    He had ignored it.


    Because it didn¡¯t make sense.


    Because if he ignored it, maybe it would just go away.


    But now¡ª


    Now Salsiar wanted him.


    Now Seikan was asking.


    And Seikan wasn¡¯t like the others. He knew things. If there was anyone who might have an answer¡ª


    It was him.


    Soya took a breath.


    ¡°There¡¯s¡­ something,¡± he admitted carefully. ¡°But I don¡¯t know what it is.¡±


    Seikan¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. ¡°Explain.¡±


    Soya adjusted his grip on Marilla, his mind scrambling to find the words. ¡°¡­Sometimes, when I draw, the ink moves. Not like smudging or anything. It¡ªshifts.¡± He swallowed. ¡°And sometimes, I¡¯ll draw runes I don¡¯t remember learning. But they¡¯re real. They¡¯re actual runes, and I don¡¯t know how I know them.¡±


    Seikan¡¯s steps slowed slightly.


    Soya didn¡¯t stop. He exhaled and pushed forward. ¡°And in duels¡ªthings just make sense.¡± He struggled to explain it. ¡°Like, I don¡¯t have to think about it. I know where to step before I need to step there. I move before I should know how. I learn spells quickly, like I already know how to do them before I¡¯m even taught.¡±


    Seikan said nothing.


    Soya let out a frustrated breath. ¡°I thought it was just¡ªI don¡¯t know. Instinct? Maybe I was just good at it. But now¡­¡±


    ¡°Now you¡¯re not so sure.¡±


    Soya nodded.


    A long silence followed.


    Seikan¡¯s mind was working. Soya could see it¡ªthe way his expression didn¡¯t change, but his grip on Marilla shifted slightly, his fingers tightening as he processed what had just been said.


    Then, finally¡ª


    ¡°You¡¯re not the only one who¡¯s noticed.¡±


    Soya glanced up. ¡°What?¡±


    Seikan didn¡¯t look at him, his gaze fixed ahead as they walked. ¡°The other professors have noticed something strange about you as well.¡±


    Soya blinked. ¡°They have?¡±


    Seikan nodded. ¡°You pick up spellwork faster than students should¡ªfaster than most professors have ever seen. You move in duels with precision that cannot be natural for someone with no prior training. And now¡­¡± He glanced at Soya. ¡°Ink magic.¡±


    Soya frowned. ¡°Ink magic?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s unheard of,¡± Seikan admitted. ¡°But not impossible.¡±


    Soya¡¯s stomach twisted. ¡°¡­And that¡¯s what Salsiar wanted?¡±


    Seikan¡¯s gaze darkened slightly. ¡°It would explain why he¡¯s taken such a specific interest in you.¡±


    Soya was silent.


    His heart pounded in his chest.


    He had always known something was off about himself. The way he understood magic before he was supposed to. The way spells fit in his mind before he had even learned them. The way his drawings¡ªhis art¡ªfelt like something more than just ink on parchment.


    But he had never said anything.


    Never questioned it.


    And now, for the first time¡ª


    He had to.


    Soya exhaled through his nose, pushing down the sudden weight in his chest. ¡°So what do I do?¡±


    Seikan was quiet for a long moment.


    Then¡ª


    ¡°You learn,¡± he said simply. ¡°You study. And you find out what you are before Salsiar does.¡±


    Soya¡¯s grip on Marilla tightened.


    Right.


    That was the only option.


    Because if Salsiar wanted something from him¡ª


    Then Soya would make damn sure he never got it.

 Chapter 44: Healing and Reflection

    The infirmary was eerily quiet, the usual hum of whispered voices absent. Only the faint rustling of linens and the distant bubbling of a restorative potion filled the air. Seikan Blackthorn stood at the entrance, his sharp green eyes fixed on a bed near the far end of the ward.


    Sage Blackthorn lay there, pale against the white sheets, his usual air of quiet menace replaced with something¡­ fragile.


    Seikan had seen his son in many states¡ªcalculated, cruel, smug, indifferent. But never like this. Never small. Never tired.


    For the first time in a long while, Sage looked like what he was. A child.


    Seikan approached with slow, measured steps, his robes barely making a sound as he crossed the room. When he reached the bedside, he did not speak immediately, instead studying Sage¡¯s face. There were no visible wounds, but magic had a way of wounding beyond the physical.


    Sage¡¯s dark eyes cracked open, sharp but unfocused. For a moment, he simply blinked up at the ceiling, as though uncertain whether he was still dreaming. Then his gaze slid toward Seikan, and recognition flickered through his exhaustion.


    A long silence stretched between them.


    Seikan finally broke it. ¡°You are alive.¡±


    Sage let out a soft, breathy laugh. ¡°Disappointed?¡± His voice was hoarse, lacking its usual edge.


    Seikan did not answer immediately. Instead, he pulled a chair closer, lowering himself into it with the same unshakable precision he carried in all things. He folded his hands in his lap, observing Sage with that same cool, unreadable expression he always wore.


    ¡°No,¡± he said finally. ¡°I am not disappointed.¡±


    Sage turned his head slightly, his gaze flickering with something unreadable. He looked like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. Instead, he let out a slow breath, his expression slipping into something uncharacteristically open.


    He looked unguarded.


    ¡°¡­I thought I was dead,¡± Sage admitted quietly.


    Seikan inclined his head. ¡°That was the intended outcome, was it not?¡±


    Sage let out a small, humorless chuckle. ¡°Yeah. Guess Sevrin will be disappointed.¡±


    A pause. Then, in a rare, near-imperceptible shift, Seikan¡¯s fingers tightened slightly in his lap.


    ¡°Salsiar ordered your death.¡± It was not a question.


    Sage¡¯s lips pressed together. He turned his head away, staring at the far wall.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Seikan exhaled slowly, something in his shoulders shifting ever so slightly. ¡°And Sevrin carried out the order.¡±


    Another long pause.


    ¡°Not exactly,¡± Sage muttered. His voice was quieter now, almost reluctant. ¡°I let him.¡±


    Seikan¡¯s gaze sharpened, but he said nothing. He simply waited.


    Sage swallowed. ¡°He was¡­ going to lose. At first I was holding back. But then, I knew if I survived, he wouldn¡¯t. And I¡ª¡± He hesitated. His fingers curled into the sheets. ¡°I didn¡¯t want that.¡±


    For a long moment, Seikan did not speak. Then, carefully, he reached out and adjusted the blanket covering Sage. It was such a simple motion, yet deliberate¡ªensuring that his son was warm, secure.


    Sage blinked, thrown off by the small gesture.


    Seikan leaned back, his sharp eyes unreadable once more. ¡°That was not an easy decision.¡±


    Sage snorted softly. ¡°Yeah. I noticed.¡±


    Seikan tilted his head slightly. ¡°Do you regret it?¡±


    Sage hesitated. Then, finally, he exhaled. ¡°No.¡±


    A pause.


    Something unreadable flickered through Seikan¡¯s gaze, but it was gone before Sage could name it.


    ¡°You are alive,¡± Seikan repeated, softer this time.


    Sage looked at him then, properly looked. His father had always been impossible to read, an impenetrable wall of logic and control. But now, for the first time, Sage saw something else.


    A quiet kind of relief.


    Seikan shifted in his seat with the same controlled grace as always, adjusting his robes as he did so. ¡°Rest,¡± he instructed simply. ¡°There will be time for discussions later.¡±


    Sage watched him for a long moment. Then, quietly, he murmured, ¡°Okay.¡±


    The door to the infirmary creaked open, and the distinct sound of leisurely footsteps echoed through the quiet room. Seikan did not immediately turn his head, but Sage¡¯s tired gaze flickered toward the entrance, narrowing slightly at the unmistakable presence of Boromus Spellchecker.


    The Headmaster strode inside with his usual casual air, hands comfortably tucked behind his back, his mismatched robes sweeping the floor in his wake. His sharp blue eyes scanned the room as if he were simply taking a morning stroll, rather than stepping into the aftermath of a near catastrophe.


    He gave a small hum as he passed a few empty beds, before stopping near Marilla¡¯s unconscious form, lying still beneath the covers of the farthest cot.


    ¡°Ah,¡± Boromus mused, glancing her over with mild curiosity. ¡°Still unconscious, I see. Quite the ordeal for her, I imagine. Poor thing, having her body borrowed like an old coat.¡±


    Seikan, still seated beside Sage¡¯s bed, remained quiet, his posture as composed as ever. Sage, however, let out a quiet scoff from the pillows. ¡°You sound so concerned.¡±


    Boromus turned his head slightly, flashing the boy an easy smile. ¡°Oh, tremendously. Truly. You can hear the anguish in my voice.¡±


    Sage gave him a flat look.


    Boromus then turned his attention to Seikan. ¡°You¡¯re staying here for a while, then?¡±


    Seikan inclined his head slightly. ¡°For the time being.¡±


    Boromus nodded, tapping a finger against his chin. ¡°Good, good. You may as well be here for this, then.¡±


    Seikan finally lifted his gaze properly, his emerald eyes sharp with interest.


    Boromus¡¯ tone, while still light, carried a quiet weight to it as he stepped closer. ¡°This situation has made something painfully clear, old friend. Our current security measures are woefully inadequate when it comes to matters like this.¡± He gestured vaguely toward Marilla. ¡°A demon has been waltzing through my school halls, unseen, unchallenged. And that is not something I plan to let happen again.¡±


    Seikan¡¯s expression remained unreadable. ¡°You wish to reinforce the wards.¡±


    ¡°I wish to do more than that,¡± Boromus corrected, clasping his hands together. ¡°I want improved detection runes placed throughout Austramore, particularly in the lower levels. Something that will alert us immediately if another entity like Salsiar so much as breathes within our walls.¡±


    Seikan exhaled quietly, considering the request. ¡°Demon detection is not simple.¡±


    ¡°I know that,¡± Boromus said, waving a hand. ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m asking you.¡±


    A beat of silence.


    Seikan¡¯s fingers tapped lightly against the armrest of the chair. ¡°It is possible,¡± he admitted. ¡°But not without time.¡±


    Boromus nodded. ¡°You¡¯ll have the time you need. You have until the start of next year.¡±


    Another pause.


    Then, as if it were an afterthought, Boromus added, ¡°Oh, and I imagine you¡¯ll find this fascinating¡ªI¡¯ve arranged for a demonology expert to join the staff next year.¡±


    Seikan did not react.


    Not outwardly.


    But Boromus saw it.


    A shift, almost imperceptible¡ªthe way Seikan¡¯s shoulders tensed just slightly, the way his fingers stopped their slow movement against the chair.


    For a man as composed as Seikan Blackthorn, that was the equivalent of a visible flinch.


    Sage noticed it too, his tired eyes flickering with curiosity as he glanced between them.


    Seikan said nothing.


    Boromus let his smile linger for just a moment longer before turning away, humming to himself as if nothing had happened.


    ¡°Well,¡± he said lightly, stepping toward the door. ¡°I¡¯ll leave you to your son, Seikan. But do think about my request, won¡¯t you?¡±


    He didn¡¯t wait for an answer.


    With a lazy wave, he strode out of the infirmary, whistling an old tune under his breath.


    The room fell into silence once more.


    Sage, still watching his father carefully, finally muttered, ¡°You know who it is, don¡¯t you?¡±


    Seikan¡¯s expression remained unreadable.


    ¡°No.¡±


    The night air hung heavy over Austramore, the usual hum of student chatter subdued in the wake of the day''s events. Whispers of the fight, of the demon, of Salsiar still lingered in the corridors, but none of it reached the Thylacea common room.


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Not yet.


    Here, the flickering glow of enchanted lanterns bathed the space in soft golden light. The crackling fireplace cast long, shifting shadows across the room, its warmth a stark contrast to the unsettling cold Soya still felt in his bones.


    He sat curled in his usual chair near the hearth, legs drawn up, arms loosely wrapped around himself. His sketchbook lay untouched in his lap, the pages blank despite the charcoal stick still clutched between his fingers.


    He had been staring at it for the past ten minutes.


    He wanted to draw.


    Needed to.


    But every time he lifted his hand, all he could see was Salsiar¡¯s twisted form, the way the shadows had moved like something alive, the way the air had felt wrong. The memory clawed at the edges of his mind, wrapping around him like invisible tendrils.


    His fingers tightened on the charcoal.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Davonte¡¯s voice cut through the silence, breaking Soya¡¯s trance. ¡°We¡¯re just gonna go ahead and talk about it, because I can¡¯t sit here and pretend this isn¡¯t weird anymore.¡±


    Soya blinked, glancing up.


    The others were all here. Draven, sitting cross-legged on the floor with his ever-present journal balanced against his knee. Tiana, poised on the edge of the sofa, watching quietly but intently. Kalsei, lounging with his head draped over the armrest, his white hair with pink and teal streaks, hanging lazily.


    And Davonte, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, silver eyes locked onto Soya with that sharp, knowing look that made it impossible to hide anything.


    Soya frowned slightly. ¡°¡­What?¡±


    Davonte rolled his eyes. ¡°This.¡± He gestured vaguely at Soya, then narrowed his eyes. ¡°You. Sitting there like some tragic, brooding protagonist, not saying a single word about the fact that you were almost kidnapped by a demon today.¡±


    Soya stiffened.


    Draven adjusted his glasses. ¡°In fairness, the probability of Soya expressing his emotions openly is statistically nonexistent.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well,¡± Davonte huffed, ¡°he doesn¡¯t need to say it. I know him.¡± His gaze flickered back to Soya. ¡°And you¡¯re not okay.¡±


    Soya looked away, jaw tightening. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    ¡°You suck at lying.¡±


    Tiana finally spoke, her voice calm but steady. ¡°He¡¯s right, Soya.¡±


    Soya clenched his teeth. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter.¡±


    ¡°It does,¡± Kalsei said, flipping onto his stomach on the couch, propping his chin on his hands. His usually playful tone was gentler than normal. ¡°You don¡¯t have to talk about it, but you don¡¯t have to sit there and pretend, either.¡±


    Soya swallowed.


    His fingers twitched against his sketchbook.


    He wanted to act normal. He wanted to sit here and banter with them like always, to make some dry remark and let the conversation shift away from him.


    But¡­


    His hands were still shaking.


    And they knew.


    Of course they did.


    Davonte sighed, rubbing the back of his head. ¡°Look, I¡¯m not saying you have to give us the whole tragic monologue or whatever. But you almost got taken today, mate. That¡¯s¡­ That¡¯s not nothing.¡±


    Soya exhaled slowly. Then, after a long pause¡ª¡°¡­It was terrifying.¡± The words came out quieter than he expected.


    Davonte nodded. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    Soya hesitated. He shifted, gripping the charcoal stick tighter, feeling its rough texture against his palm. ¡°I thought¡ªI felt¡ª¡± He struggled to find the words. ¡°It was like¡­ He knew something I didn¡¯t.¡±


    Draven¡¯s brow furrowed slightly. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Soya¡¯s throat felt tight. ¡°Like¡ªhe knew me. Or something about me. Like I was¡­¡± His voice dropped lower. ¡°¡­important.¡±


    Silence.


    Then¡ª


    ¡°Well,¡± Kalsei mused, ¡°you are the only Muggle-born in centuries. That¡¯s pretty cool.¡±


    Soya shot him a flat look.


    Kalsei grinned. ¡°Just trying to lighten the mood.¡±


    Soya sighed, leaning his head back against the chair. ¡°I don¡¯t feel important.¡±


    Tiana, who had been quiet for most of the discussion, finally spoke. ¡°That¡¯s not up to you.¡±


    Soya glanced at her, frowning.


    She met his gaze evenly. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter if you feel important. You are. And that means people¡ªthings¡ªare going to notice.¡±


    Soya¡¯s fingers curled tighter around the edge of his sketchbook.


    Davonte leaned forward again, resting his forearms on his knees. ¡°And that means we have to be ready.¡±


    Soya hesitated. ¡°We?¡±


    Davonte raised an eyebrow. ¡°Yeah, we. What, you think you¡¯re dealing with this alone?¡±


    Soya¡¯s lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Because honestly¡­


    He had thought that. He had always been alone, before coming here. Always figuring things out himself, always keeping things hidden because it was easier than explaining. But now¡ªNow they were looking at him like it wasn¡¯t even a question. Like of course they were in this with him.


    Like of course they were going to stand by him. Soya swallowed past the tightness in his throat.


    ¡°¡­Right,¡± he murmured.


    Davonte gave a satisfied nod. ¡°Good. Because if you try to play the brooding loner thing for too long, I will start throwing things at you.¡±


    Kalsei perked up. ¡°Ooh, can I join?¡±


    Draven sighed. ¡°I refuse to be involved in whatever this is.¡±


    Tiana simply shook her head with a small, amused exhale.


    Soya let out a breath¡ªone that felt like it had been trapped in his chest for hours.


    The night air was crisp and cool, carrying the distant chatter of the Eucalyptic Grove¡¯s insects just beyond Austramore¡¯s boundary. The school loomed behind him, its warm glow a stark contrast to the quiet solitude Sevrin had sought.


    He sat on a low stone wall, just on the edge of the grounds, where the wards of Austramore¡¯s protective magic shimmered faintly in the distance. Here, beneath the open sky, away from the suffocating halls and their whispers, he could think.


    His hands idly toyed with the remains of a biscuit, crumbling the edges and tossing small pieces onto the ground. The sound of tiny claws scuttling across the stone filled the silence as a flock of nightfinches cautiously approached, drawn by the food.


    Sevrin watched them. His fingers loosened, letting another few crumbs drop. The birds hopped closer, eyes bright and beady, their sharp little beaks pecking at the ground. It was quiet. Peaceful. And yet¡ªHis mind was anything but.


    Salsiar was gone. Not dead, but gone. He should have felt relief. He did feel relief. But he also felt lost.


    His entire life had been spent planning, controlling, maneuvering himself into a position of power. He had chosen to follow Salsiar, to align himself with something greater than the petty games of children. He had believed in it.


    But Salsiar had thrown him away the moment he proved himself useless. He had almost lost everything. Almost lost Sage. His hands clenched slightly. He had betrayed his best friend. For what?


    A soft rustle of footsteps broke through his thoughts.


    He didn¡¯t flinch. He had already sensed her presence long before she made herself known.


    ¡°Sulking doesn¡¯t suit you.¡± Lykaios¡¯s voice was calm, cold, but¡­ softer than usual.


    Sevrin let out a quiet exhale, not bothering to look up as he tossed another crumb onto the ground. ¡°I¡¯m thinking.¡±


    Lykaios stopped a few paces away, her silhouette outlined by the distant glow of Austramore¡¯s lanterns. She tilted her head slightly, watching him. ¡°You¡¯re vulnerable right now,¡± she murmured. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ unsettling.¡±


    Sevrin scoffed. ¡°How comforting.¡±


    Lykaios stepped forward, finally settling onto the stone beside him, her posture as composed as ever.


    She didn¡¯t push. Didn¡¯t demand. She simply waited.


    The birds flitted closer, their tiny feet tapping against the stone as they pecked at the scattered crumbs.


    Sevrin exhaled slowly. ¡°¡­I don¡¯t know what to do now.¡± It was quieter than he intended.


    Lykaios didn¡¯t react immediately. She reached into her robes, pulled out a small scrap of bread, and, without looking, crumbled it between her fingers, adding it to the pile of crumbs at their feet.


    A nightfinch hesitated, then hopped forward, snatching up a piece.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to know,¡± she said finally.


    Sevrin frowned. ¡°I always know.¡±


    Lykaios gave him a sharp, sidelong glance. ¡°No. You pretend you always know.¡±


    Sevrin clenched his jaw, staring at the birds as they swarmed closer, picking apart the scattered remains of their offering.


    For so long, he had been in control. He had made choices with precision, manipulating situations to his advantage. But now, for the first time, he was standing at a crossroads with no clear path forward.


    Salsiar was gone. Sage was alive. And he¡­ He wasn¡¯t sure what he was anymore.


    Lykaios shifted slightly, her shoulder brushing his. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable, but the warmth of the gesture was there. ¡°You¡¯re allowed to be lost,¡± she murmured.


    Sevrin swallowed. His throat felt tight. He exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair, his usual composure slipping. ¡°I¡ª¡± His voice wavered, and he bit down on the words before they could escape.


    Lykaios didn¡¯t push. Didn¡¯t pry. She just sat there, letting the silence stretch between them, watching the birds as they picked apart the last crumbs.


    Sevrin let out a slow, shuddering breath. He had spent so long making sure no one could see his weakness. But with her¡ªHis sister¡ªHe didn¡¯t have to hide.


    The night stretched around them, vast and indifferent. The stars above glittered like cold pinpricks of light against the dark sky, distant and unfeeling. The quiet hum of the enchanted grove in the distance filled the air, steady and unchanging¡ªsomething constant in a world that, for Sevrin, no longer felt stable.


    The nightfinches had eaten their fill and fluttered away into the trees, leaving behind only the two of them, perched on the edge of the school boundary like they were separate from the world inside its walls.


    For a long time, Sevrin just sat.


    And Lykaios waited.


    She had always been patient with him¡ªnever pushing, never forcing words he wasn¡¯t ready to say. And now, as he stared at the empty ground where the birds had been, something inside him cracked just enough to let the words spill through.


    ¡°¡­I thought I was doing the right thing,¡± he muttered.


    Lykaios didn¡¯t move, didn¡¯t respond immediately, just waited for him to continue.


    Sevrin¡¯s hands clenched in his lap. ¡°I believed in it. In Salsiar. In his vision. The idea that we¡ªpure-bloods¡ªwere stronger. That we had earned our place in magic. That the others¡­ the weak ones¡­ didn¡¯t belong.¡± His voice was tight. ¡°I thought I understood it. Thought I was strong.¡±


    He inhaled sharply through his nose. ¡°But when he told me to kill Sage, I didn¡¯t even hesitate.¡±


    Lykaios turned her head slightly, watching him.


    Sevrin¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°I just did it. Because I was told to. Because I thought it was what I was supposed to do.¡±


    The words felt like poison on his tongue. He had prided himself on being in control, on being the one who manipulated, not the one who obeyed. But the truth was unbearable. He had been nothing more than a pawn. A weapon wielded by someone stronger. And the worst part? He hadn¡¯t even realized it.


    His hands trembled slightly before he clenched them into fists, forcing them still. ¡°I hate myself for it.¡±


    Lykaios exhaled through her nose. She shifted slightly, her posture still composed, still cold¡ªbut her voice, when she spoke, was quiet. ¡°You are eleven, Sevrin.¡±


    He looked at her sharply, expecting sarcasm, but her tone was steady.


    ¡°You were looking for a path. You tried to force one that didn¡¯t fit.¡± She studied him with her piercing blue gaze, unreadable but firm. ¡°You can fix that.¡±


    Sevrin swallowed. ¡°How?¡±


    Lykaios turned back toward the horizon. ¡°You find one that does.¡±


    Silence settled between them again.


    Sevrin stared at the ground, his mind a tangled mess of thoughts he didn¡¯t know how to organize. Then, finally, he exhaled, tilting his head back toward the sky. ¡°I don¡¯t understand what Salsiar wanted with Vareen.¡±


    Lykaios didn¡¯t react outwardly, but the air around her seemed to shift slightly.


    Sevrin continued, unaware of the change in her. ¡°He¡¯s a Muggle-born¡ªhe¡¯s weak. He¡¯s not even¡ª¡±


    He barely had time to register the sudden cold in Lykaios¡¯s voice before she cut him off.


    ¡°Do not speak about him like that.¡±


    Sevrin turned his head sharply.


    Lykaios¡¯s expression was the same as always¡ªcalm, unreadable. But her eyes¡ªher eyes¡ª


    Something flickered in them. Something that sent a rare shiver down his spine.


    Sevrin stiffened slightly. ¡°I just meant¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know what you meant.¡± Her voice wasn¡¯t loud. But it was dangerous.


    Sevrin, for once, was at a loss for words.


    Lykaios looked away again, her posture relaxing just slightly, but her hands remained perfectly still in her lap.


    ¡°Salsiar is not a fool,¡± she murmured. ¡°If he wanted Soya, there was a reason.¡±


    Sevrin didn¡¯t argue. Because she was right. Whatever had made Salsiar interested in that boy¡ªwhatever had driven him to try and take him¡ªwas something he still didn¡¯t understand.

 Chapter 45: Unexpected Encounters

    The spiral staircase leading to Boromus Spellchecker¡¯s office always felt a little too long¡ªespecially when one was summoned.


    But this time, Davonte Evander was not summoned. No, this was his own idea.


    Which made it so much worse.


    He adjusted his robes, ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair, and did his best to adopt an air of professionalism. He was here to propose something important. Something that could redefine the student experience at Austramore.


    And Boromus Spellchecker needed to hear it.


    The office door loomed ahead, its intricate carvings shifting subtly, as if sensing his approach.


    Davonte inhaled. He straightened his posture, lifted his chin and then knocked.


    There was a pause.


    After a moment Boromus'' voice came from behind the door. ¡°Come in, dear boy!¡±


    Davonte pushed the door open and stepped inside, where the Headmaster¡¯s cluttered but cozy office awaited. Books stacked at impossible angles, enchanted trinkets hovered in the air, and in the center of it all, behind a massive, mismatched wooden desk¡ª


    Boromus Spellchecker himself.


    The man looked exactly as he always did¡ªlike someone who had just rolled out of bed and stumbled into immense magical power entirely by accident. His silver hair was untamed, his robes were a patchwork of different fabrics (some of which seemed to be changing color even now), and his bright blue eyes twinkled with the kind of insufferable amusement that suggested he already knew this conversation was going to be entertaining.


    Davonte cleared his throat.


    ¡°Professor Spellchecker, sir.¡± He did his best to sound formal, like this was a real meeting. ¡°I¡¯d like to propose an event for the students before the holidays.¡±


    Boromus steepled his fingers. ¡°Oh? Do tell.¡±


    Davonte nodded, slipping into presentation mode. ¡°Well, sir, I was recently speaking with my good friend Soya Vareen, and he introduced me to this fascinating concept from the Muggle world¡ªcosplay.¡±


    Boromus blinked.


    Davonte carried on, feeling a surge of confidence. ¡°It¡¯s a dress-up thing! But not normal dress-up¡ªcreative dress-up. People pick characters from books and stories and dress like them. It¡¯s, uh¡­ a form of self-expression, you know? Art and magic and fashion all in one.¡±


    Boromus leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin. ¡°Cosplay, you say?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Davonte said eagerly. ¡°And I thought¡ªwhy not bring this amazing idea to Austramore? We could host a literary costume event where students dress as characters from wizarding literature! Imagine the creativity! The fun! The historical accuracy!¡±


    Boromus¡¯ eyes twinkled with immense amusement. ¡°A fascinating notion.¡±


    ¡°Right?¡± Davonte grinned. ¡°People could come as famous magical figures! Merlin, Morgana, Jacko the Bold¡ªmaybe even Headmaster Spellchecker himself!¡±


    Boromus hummed. ¡°A daring choice.¡±


    Davonte nodded sagely. ¡°You do have a distinct aesthetic.¡±


    Boromus¡¯ lips twitched. ¡°And tell me, dear boy¡­ do you have a character in mind for yourself?¡±


    Davonte hesitated. ¡°Well, uh¡­ I was thinking about dressing as the protagonist from The Midnight Sorcerer, but¡ª¡±


    Boromus lifted a hand. ¡°Say no more. I love it.¡±


    Davonte beamed.


    Boromus clasped his hands together. ¡°There is only one problem.¡±


    Davonte¡¯s smile faltered. ¡°¡­Problem?¡±


    Boromus leaned forward slightly, amusement practically oozing from his expression.


    ¡°My dear Davonte,¡± he said, voice full of unreasonable delight, ¡°did Soya happen to explain what Muggle cosplay is actually about?¡±


    Davonte frowned. ¡°Yeah! It¡¯s about dressing up as characters from books and¡ª¡±


    And then it hit him. The way Boromus was smiling. The way he was very clearly waiting for realization to dawn. The slow, creeping suspicion that something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.


    Davonte cleared his throat. ¡°I mean¡­ that is what it is, right?¡±


    Boromus just continued to smile. ¡°Oh, absolutely. Sometimes.¡±


    ¡°¡­Sometimes?¡±


    Boromus leaned back, gesturing vaguely. ¡°Oh, well, some Muggles do indeed dress as fictional characters from books. But from what I understand, cosplay extends to all forms of media.¡±


    Davonte blinked. ¡°¡­All?¡±


    ¡°Movies. Plays. Comics. Even, ah¡­ modern pop culture.¡±


    Davonte stared.


    Boromus¡¯ grin widened. ¡°Yes, dear boy. If we host this event exactly as you¡¯ve described, we may very well find students arriving dressed as talking cats, alien warlords, or giant metallic men who turn into horseless carriages.¡±


    Silence.


    Davonte opened his mouth.


    Closed it.


    Opened it again.


    Then, very slowly, realization hit. ¡°¡­So not just book characters.¡±


    Boromus beamed. ¡°Not just book characters.¡±


    Davonte groaned, burying his face in his hands. ¡°I really should have asked more questions.¡±


    Boromus patted his shoulder. ¡°A valuable lesson in research, my boy.¡±


    Davonte sighed. ¡°Well¡­ what do you think? Could we still make it work?¡±


    Boromus tilted his head in consideration. Then, after a moment, he laughed. ¡°Oh, absolutely.¡±


    Davonte perked up. ¡°Really?¡±


    Boromus nodded. ¡°Why not? Magic and creativity go hand in hand. If students wish to dress as their favorite characters, then so be it! A celebration of imagination and storytelling!¡±


    Davonte grinned. ¡°So you¡¯ll approve it?¡±


    Boromus leaned forward, eyes twinkling. ¡°I¡¯ll do you one better¡ªI¡¯ll attend.¡±


    Davonte¡¯s excitement faltered slightly. ¡°¡­You¡¯re not gonna dress as a talking cat, are you?¡±


    Boromus tapped his chin thoughtfully. ¡°I was considering something dramatic¡­ perhaps a spectral owl? A wayward wizard from beyond the stars? A sentient cloak of mist?¡±


    Davonte groaned. ¡°This is already getting out of hand.¡±


    Boromus grinned, patting his shoulder again. ¡°Welcome to event planning, dear boy.¡±


    As Davonte and Boromus continued to discuss planning the event, a soft breeze blew in the window from the courtyard below, where Soya sat beneath the sprawling gum tree, his sketchbook balanced on his knees. The rhythmic scratching of his quill against the parchment filled the otherwise still morning air. He wasn¡¯t drawing anything in particular¡ªjust letting his hand move, ink flowing effortlessly, creating shapes and lines that barely registered in his conscious mind. He had been doing this more often since the encounter with Salsiar. It was easier than thinking.


    But even lost in his own thoughts, Soya wasn¡¯t oblivious.


    He felt the eyes on him.


    Steady, calculating, but hesitant.


    The figure shifted slightly, an outline now, silhouetted by the sun.


    Sage Blackthorn.


    For a long while, the other boy didn¡¯t move, standing at a distance like a shadow at the edge of Soya¡¯s world. That, in itself, was unsettling. Sage wasn¡¯t the type to linger in silence. If he was here, it meant he wanted something.


    Soya finally lifted his head, his gaze locking onto Sage¡¯s dark, unreadable eyes. The other boy had his hands shoved into his robes, shoulders squared, but there was something different about him¡ªsomething that felt¡­ unguarded. Vulnerable.


    That didn¡¯t make Soya feel any better.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°Need something?¡± Soya asked, keeping his voice neutral.


    Sage inhaled sharply, as if bracing himself for something difficult. Then, instead of answering, he stepped forward and, without asking, sat down across from Soya, folding his legs underneath him. The movement was stiff, awkward¡ªlike he wasn¡¯t sure how to do this.


    Soya¡¯s fingers tightened slightly on his quill. He didn¡¯t trust this.


    Since the beginning of the year, Sage had been an extension of Sevrin¡¯s cruelty, watching with that same sharp gaze, throwing words that cut just as deep as spells. But now¡­ he was sitting here. With no sneer. No taunt. Just¡­ silence.


    ¡°I¡ª¡± Sage exhaled sharply, running a hand through his already-messy hair. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to do this.¡±


    Soya frowned slightly. ¡°Do what?¡±


    ¡°Talk,¡± Sage muttered. ¡°To you.¡±


    Soya blinked. That was probably the most honest thing he had ever heard come out of Sage Blackthorn¡¯s mouth.


    A long pause stretched between them. Soya wasn¡¯t sure if he was supposed to respond, so he simply let the silence linger. If Sage wanted to say something, he would have to do it himself.


    And eventually, he did.


    ¡°I was wrong,¡± Sage said finally. The words came slow, deliberate, as if they had weight. As if it was difficult for him to say them.


    Soya stared at him, not sure how to respond to that.


    Sage let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. ¡°That¡¯s it? No gloating? No sarcastic remark?¡±


    Soya tilted his head slightly. ¡°Do you want me to?¡±


    Sage¡¯s lips twitched, something like amusement¡ªreal amusement, not his usual mocking smirk¡ªflickering across his face before disappearing. ¡°No,¡± he admitted. ¡°I don¡¯t think I could handle that.¡±


    A strange tension sat between them. Not the usual hostility. Not exactly friendship. Just¡­ something unfamiliar.


    Soya watched as Sage¡¯s hands clenched slightly against his knees. ¡°I don¡¯t expect you to believe me,¡± he continued. ¡°Or forgive me. That¡¯s not why I¡¯m here.¡± His voice dipped slightly, something uncharacteristically raw slipping through. ¡°I just¡ªI just need to try.¡±


    Soya¡¯s fingers tapped idly against his sketchbook. He didn¡¯t know what to say to that. He wasn¡¯t sure he even wanted to say anything.


    Sage Blackthorn had tormented him for months, and yet, here he was, trying. Soya wasn¡¯t sure what to do with that.


    So, instead, he simply nodded once and turned back to his sketchbook.


    He didn¡¯t tell Sage to leave.


    And Sage didn¡¯t.


    For now, that was enough.


    The silence between Soya and Sage was thick with unspoken things. Sage, despite his best efforts, still looked uncomfortable, as if he was sitting on a hexed cushion, unsure if it would explode beneath him at any second. Soya wasn¡¯t sure what to make of this strange attempt at conversation. He had expected hostility, smugness¡ªanything but this hesitant awkwardness.


    The scratching of his quill against the parchment filled the void, steady and unbroken. If Sage had something else to say, he could say it. Soya wasn¡¯t going to carry the conversation for him.


    But the next voice that broke the silence wasn¡¯t Sage¡¯s.


    ¡°You¡¯re awfully close to something you should be keeping your distance from, Blackthorn.¡±


    Sage stiffened.


    Soya looked up just in time to see Lykaios Verelle stepping into view, her icy blue gaze locked onto Sage like he was something foul stuck to her boot. She moved with her usual cold, calculated grace¡ªfluid, yet unnervingly controlled.


    Soya wasn¡¯t afraid of her, not exactly, but she was intimidating.


    Sage, however, didn¡¯t flinch. He turned his head slightly, his expression shifting back into something more familiar¡ªguarded, sharp, unreadable. It was almost a relief to see. At least that was normal.


    Lykaios didn¡¯t stop walking until she was standing right beside Soya, casting a shadow over him. Her presence, though silent, was unmistakable.


    ¡°I was talking to him,¡± Sage said coolly, though there was an edge to his voice.


    Lykaios tilted her head slightly. ¡°And I¡¯m sure whatever you were saying was incredibly fascinating, but I have other plans for him.¡±


    Soya blinked, glancing up at her. ¡°Plans?¡±


    She turned her gaze to him. ¡°Training.¡±


    Soya frowned. ¡°Training for what?¡±


    Lykaios gave him a look, as if that was a stupid question. ¡°To fight.¡±


    Soya¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°Why?¡±


    Lykaios exhaled through her nose, clearly irritated by the fact that she had to explain herself. ¡°Because you were nearly kidnapped by a demon, Vareen.¡± Her voice was cool, unwavering. ¡°And from what I¡¯ve seen, that won¡¯t be the last time something like that happens.¡±


    Soya swallowed.


    He knew she was right.


    Sage, who had been silent for a moment, crossed his arms. ¡°So what? You¡¯re his protector now?¡± His tone was dry, but there was something else beneath it. Something he wasn¡¯t quite saying.


    Lykaios didn¡¯t even glance at him. ¡°I¡¯m making sure he doesn¡¯t die the next time someone comes after him.¡±


    Soya shifted uncomfortably. He wasn¡¯t used to people caring about whether he could protect himself or not. And Lykaios¡­ she was an enigma. She didn¡¯t care about people. Not in a normal way.


    And yet, here she was.


    Training.


    Preparing him.


    Because she expected something to happen again.


    Sage¡¯s expression darkened slightly, but he said nothing.


    Lykaios, satisfied that there was no argument, extended a hand to Soya. ¡°Come on.¡±


    Soya hesitated, glancing at Sage for a fraction of a second before sighing and closing his sketchbook. He had the distinct feeling that arguing wasn¡¯t an option.


    He took her hand, letting her pull him up to his feet.


    Sage watched silently, his expression unreadable.


    Soya didn¡¯t know what he was feeling, but as Lykaios started walking away with him in tow, he could still feel Sage¡¯s gaze lingering on his back.


    As Lykaios led Soya away, Sage remained where he was, watching them go with an unreadable expression. His fingers twitched slightly at his sides, but he made no move to follow. Instead, he let his voice carry after them, laced with idle curiosity.


    ¡°I wonder,¡± he mused, loud enough for them to hear, ¡°how your dear brother would react if he knew you were getting close to a Muggle-born.¡±


    Lykaios stopped mid-step. She didn¡¯t turn. She didn¡¯t even look at him.


    But the tension in the air sharpened like a blade.


    Soya felt it.


    Sage felt it.


    ¡°Watch yourself, Blackthorn.¡± Her voice was calm, cold, but something lurked beneath it. Not quite anger. Not quite a warning. Something¡­ unreadable.


    Sage simply tilted his head slightly, studying her.


    Then, without another word, Lykaios continued walking, pulling Soya along without so much as a backward glance.


    Soya didn¡¯t say anything as they left the courtyard behind, winding through the quieter corridors of the school. He wasn¡¯t sure what had just happened back there, but one thing was clear: Lykaios did not want to discuss it.


    Eventually, they stepped onto one of the school''s training grounds¡ªan open courtyard used for spell practice and dueling. The night air was crisp, the moon casting pale light over the stone floor.


    Lykaios let go of his wrist and turned to face him fully. "You know how to fight?¡± she asked bluntly.


    Soya hesitated. ¡°I¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, you don¡¯t,¡± she interrupted. ¡°I saw you against Salsiar. You froze.¡±


    Soya clenched his jaw. ¡°I didn¡¯t freeze.¡±


    Lykaios raised a sharp brow. ¡°You hesitated.¡±


    Soya exhaled, frustrated. ¡°He was a demon, Lykaios.¡±


    ¡°And the next thing that comes after you might be worse,¡± she said flatly. ¡°You think your excuses will mean anything then?¡±


    Soya fell silent.


    Lykaios studied him for a moment before nodding, satisfied that he wasn¡¯t going to argue. ¡°Good. At least you¡¯re smart enough to listen.¡±


    Soya huffed. ¡°You¡¯re not exactly great at making people want to listen.¡±


    Lykaios ignored that. ¡°We¡¯ll start simple.¡± She took a few steps back, drawing her wand. ¡°Attack me.¡±


    Soya blinked. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Attack me.¡±


    Soya frowned. ¡°That¡¯s not how training works. Shouldn¡¯t you be teaching me first?¡±


    Lykaios sighed, as if this was a massive inconvenience. ¡°I need to see what I¡¯m working with. Attack me.¡±


    Soya hesitated.


    She rolled her eyes. ¡°You hesitate again, and I¡¯ll attack you first.¡±


    Soya immediately lifted his wand. ¡°Alright, fine.¡±


    Lykaios smirked.


    Soya took a breath, then flicked his wand. ¡°Expelliarmus!¡±


    A simple spell. A safe spell. But Lykaios was faster.


    Protego.


    The shield snapped into place effortlessly, deflecting his spell like it was nothing.


    Soya barely had time to react before Lykaios moved.


    She didn¡¯t attack him directly¡ªshe didn¡¯t even use magic. Instead, she closed the distance fast, sweeping out a foot to knock him off balance.


    Soya stumbled, barely catching himself.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Lykaios demanded.


    Soya shot her an incredulous look. ¡°That was me attacking you!¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she corrected. ¡°That was you testing me. Like you weren¡¯t sure if I was really going to block it.¡± She stepped closer, staring him down. ¡°When someone attacks you, you don¡¯t test them. You fight them.¡±


    Soya scowled. ¡°I don¡¯t like fighting.¡±


    Lykaios narrowed her eyes. ¡°Then learn how to win fast.¡±


    Soya inhaled sharply through his nose.


    Lykaios stepped back, giving him space. ¡°Again.¡±


    Soya adjusted his stance. He wasn¡¯t used to dueling like this. In class, things were controlled, structured. But this?


    This was something else.


    Still, he wasn¡¯t about to let Lykaios walk all over him.


    His fingers tightened around his wand. He exhaled slowly.


    ¡°Depulso!¡±


    Lykaios sidestepped it. The spell barely grazed past her robes, striking the stone wall behind her.


    Soya¡¯s eyes widened. She was fast.


    Before he could react, Lykaios flicked her own wand. ¡°Flipendo.¡±


    The force struck his shoulder, sending him stumbling backward onto the stone floor.


    Soya groaned. ¡°You didn¡¯t even warn me!¡±


    Lykaios smirked. ¡°Neither will the next thing that tries to kill you.¡±


    Soya glared up at her. ¡°You enjoy this, don¡¯t you?¡±


    She tilted her head. ¡°Not particularly.¡±


    She extended a hand toward him. He hesitated, but took it, letting her pull him to his feet.


    She studied him for a moment, then said, ¡°You¡¯re not bad.¡±


    Soya frowned. ¡°I just lost.¡±


    Lykaios raised a brow. ¡°Did you think you were going to win?¡±


    Soya scowled. ¡°You could¡¯ve let me think I had a chance.¡±


    Lykaios exhaled through her nose, something almost like amusement flickering in her gaze. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Vareen.¡±


    Then, without thinking, she added¡ª


    ¡°You¡¯ll get better.¡±


    Soya blinked.


    She realized what she had said.


    Her expression didn¡¯t change, but something inwardly shifted, like the realization was catching up to her too late.


    She meant it. She wanted him to get better., and she didn¡¯t know why.


    Lykaios turned sharply, shoving her wand back into her robes. ¡°Again. And this time¡ªtry harder.¡±


    Soya sighed but lifted his wand again.

 Chapter 46: The Blackthorn Incident

    The halls of Austramore buzzed with the usual morning chatter as Soya, Draven, Davonte, Tiana, and Kalsei made their way toward their Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. The air was cool, a hint of the ocean breeze slipping through the open stone corridors, but their conversation was warm and lively¡ªmostly thanks to Davonte, who never let a conversation settle into silence for too long.


    ¡°I¡¯m just saying,¡± Davonte was insisting, waving a hand animatedly, ¡°if we are doing this whole cosplay thing, I should definitely get a sword.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need a sword,¡± Draven replied, not even looking up from the book he was reading as they walked. ¡°You have a wand. A far more practical weapon.¡±


    Davonte scoffed. ¡°A wand is great, obviously, but a sword? That¡¯s how you make an entrance.¡±


    Kalsei grinned,bouncing slightly as he stepped beside Davonte. ¡°Maybe if you train hard enough, you could dual-wield. A wand in one hand, a sword in the other.¡±


    Davonte¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°You¡¯re a genius.¡±


    ¡°Or an enabler,¡± Tiana muttered.


    Soya, who had been largely quiet, just shook his head. He didn¡¯t have the energy to argue over Davonte¡¯s ongoing obsession with dramatic flair.


    As they turned the last corner toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, their conversation slowed. Other students were already filing in, but as they stepped inside, the sight at the front of the class made all of them pause.


    Soya frowned slightly. ¡°Is that¡ª?¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± Draven confirmed.


    Seikan Blackthorn, their Potions professor, stood at the head of the room. He was as still and composed as ever, his piercing emerald eyes scanning the students as they entered. His long, dark robes, etched with subtle runic embroidery, contrasted sharply with the usual battle-ready stance of Professor Marilla. He looked perfectly at home, yet entirely out of place.


    The murmurs of the students reflected their confusion.


    Seikan, however, wasted no time addressing it.


    ¡°I will be filling in for Professor Marilla while she recovers,¡± he stated plainly, his voice crisp and unwavering.


    The room immediately quieted.


    Soya exchanged a glance with Davonte. While Seikan was undeniably brilliant, the idea of him teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts was... unexpected.


    Seikan took a step forward, his hands clasped behind his back as his sharp gaze swept over the class. ¡°Some of you may believe that spellwork alone will protect you in a fight.¡± His voice was as steady and composed as ever. ¡°That is incorrect.¡±


    The students shifted slightly.


    Seikan continued. ¡°Magic is a tool. A powerful one, certainly. But it is not everything. When facing an opponent, you must consider all elements of battle¡ªincluding your surroundings.¡±


    A beat of silence.


    Then, Seikan turned toward the class. ¡°One of you. Attack me.¡±


    The students froze.


    Davonte blinked. ¡°Wait¡ªwhat?¡±


    Seikan remained completely unfazed. ¡°Someone cast a spell at me. Now.¡±


    The students exchanged uneasy glances.


    Soya frowned slightly. He had seen Seikan fight Salsiar¡ªhe knew how powerful the man was. So why was he asking a first-year to try and hit him?


    Finally, one student hesitantly lifted their wand. ¡°Um¡­ Flipendo?¡±


    The spell shot forward¡ªdirect, precise.


    Seikan moved so effortlessly that it barely looked like a decision.


    He picked up a chair.


    And used it to block the spell.


    The spell collided with the wooden surface, dispersing harmlessly. The room was dead silent.


    Seikan set the chair back down with careful precision. Then, in the same calm, deliberate tone, he said:


    ¡°Most magic requires contact to be effective.¡± He swept his gaze across the room. ¡°You all rely too much on your wands.¡±


    Soya¡¯s fingers tightened slightly around his own wand, a slow realization settling over him.


    Seikan continued. ¡°A duel is not just about spellwork. It is about control.¡± His gaze was sharp. ¡°You are not just wizards. You are fighters.¡± He tilted his head slightly. ¡°Or at least, you should be.¡±


    The students were silent.


    Then, finally, Davonte¡ªbecause of course it would be Davonte¡ªlet out a quiet, impressed:


    ¡°...Okay. That was kinda cool.¡±


    The silence following Seikan¡¯s demonstration stretched long enough that the weight of his words settled over the class like a smothering blanket. Even Davonte, usually the first to break tension with some kind of quip, seemed to be momentarily at a loss.


    Soya¡¯s mind worked quickly, replaying what had just happened. Most magic needs contact to be effective. It was something so obvious, yet none of them had ever thought to approach spellwork this way.


    Seikan let the silence linger for another moment before speaking again. ¡°What you have just witnessed,¡± he stated, ¡°is a fundamental principle of combat. It is not simply about casting spells faster than your opponent. It is about understanding the nature of magic itself.¡±


    His sharp emerald gaze swept over the students. ¡°Your wands are extensions of you. They are not your only means of defense.¡±


    A few students exchanged glances.


    Davonte finally found his voice. ¡°So¡­ you¡¯re saying if someone throws a spell at us, we should just start grabbing furniture?¡±


    A flicker of something almost amused crossed Seikan¡¯s face. ¡°If it works.¡±


    A few muffled laughs rippled through the room, though no one was entirely sure if he was joking.


    Seikan continued, stepping around the chair he had just used. ¡°Many of you will make the mistake of thinking that if an opponent attacks, you must counter with equal force. This is inefficient.¡± He clasped his hands behind his back. ¡°A more efficient approach is to deny them the opportunity entirely.¡±


    Soya listened carefully, his grip on his wand tightening.


    Seikan turned to the class again. ¡°Defense is not simply about shielding yourself. It is about control. Control of the fight. Control of your opponent. Control of yourself.¡±


    He lifted a single hand, snapping his fingers. ¡°Vareen.¡±


    Soya stiffened.


    Seikan tilted his head slightly. ¡°Attack me.¡±


    Soya hesitated.


    He had seen Seikan fight. The man had battled a demon and survived. There was no reality where a first-year student, let alone Soya, could actually land a hit on him.


    Still, he wasn¡¯t about to refuse.


    He adjusted his stance, exhaled slowly, and lifted his wand.


    ¡°Depulso!¡±


    The force spell shot forward, sharp and precise¡ª


    And Seikan simply stepped aside.


    The spell soared past him, striking the stone wall harmlessly.


    Soya barely had time to react before Seikan¡¯s wand flicked.


    ¡°Expulsum Infernalis.¡±


    Soya moved on instinct, diving to the side just as the spell struck where he had been standing. The impact sent a small shockwave through the floor, rattling desks and knocking over an inkpot.


    The class collectively flinched.


    Soya scrambled back to his feet, heart pounding.


    Seikan lowered his wand. ¡°That was better.¡±


    Soya let out a breath. ¡°Better?¡±


    Seikan nodded. ¡°You moved. You adapted. That is survival.¡± He turned back to the rest of the class. ¡°If you rely solely on shields and counterspells, you will lose to someone faster than you. If you rely solely on attacking, you will lose to someone smarter than you.¡±


    His expression remained unreadable. ¡°Do both.¡±


    The room was silent again, but this time, the energy had shifted. The students were listening.


    Seikan let his words settle before stepping back toward the center of the room. ¡°We will spend the rest of today¡¯s lesson focusing on movement and defense. By the end of this class, you will not just cast spells¡ªyou will control the battlefield.¡±


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Soya straightened slightly.


    Seikan wasn¡¯t like other professors. He wasn¡¯t teaching them to pass a test.


    He was teaching them to survive.


    Soya exhaled slowly, steadying himself after dodging Seikan¡¯s spell. His pulse was still racing from the near miss. He had moved instinctively, without thinking¡ªand that was the part that unsettled him most.


    Beside him, Davonte let out a low whistle. ¡°Damn, mate. You¡¯re lucky you dodged that.¡±


    Soya glanced at him. ¡°Yeah. I felt that.¡±


    Davonte rubbed his chin. ¡°That was Expulsum Infernalis, yeah? That spell Marilla taught us a few weeks ago?¡±


    Soya frowned slightly. He remembered that lesson well. The spell had been introduced as an advanced technique, something they were allowed to practice but warned not to use carelessly.


    Davonte continued, voice dropping slightly. ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about it, you know? Back then, Marilla¡ª¡± He hesitated. ¡°Or, well¡­ Salsiar, probably. I reckon he was already controlling her by that point.¡±


    Soya¡¯s stomach turned slightly.


    It made sense.


    Expulsum Infernalis wasn¡¯t a standard first-year spell. It wasn¡¯t even a common spell. It was an aggressive, incapacitating technique designed to overwhelm an opponent with sheer concussive force.


    If Salsiar had been in control of Marilla then, it meant he had been planting dangerous knowledge into their lessons from the start.


    Soya clenched his jaw.


    Seikan, who had been allowing the murmurs to linger, suddenly spoke again.


    ¡°Your movements will dictate the flow of battle,¡± he said, his voice crisp, dragging them back into the lesson. ¡°Footwork, positioning, spatial awareness¡ªthese matter just as much as your spellwork.¡±


    He turned, stepping toward the center of the room. ¡°Everyone, wands down.¡±


    A pause.


    Then the students hesitantly obeyed, tucking their wands away.


    Seikan¡¯s expression remained unreadable. ¡°You will not cast spells until I say otherwise. Right now, I will teach you how to avoid them.¡±


    Some students shifted uncomfortably.


    Seikan continued, unfazed. ¡°Step forward.¡±


    The class did as they were told, forming a loose semi-circle around him.


    Seikan lifted a hand, gesturing to the room. ¡°When you are under attack, your first instinct may be to counter.¡± His gaze sharpened. ¡°That is not always the best course of action.¡±


    His emerald eyes flicked toward Soya. ¡°Vareen. Again.¡±


    Soya straightened slightly, cautious. ¡°Again?¡±


    Seikan tilted his head. ¡°Attack me.¡±


    Soya inhaled, hesitated just a moment, then moved.


    ¡°Depulso!¡±


    The spell shot forward¡ª


    And Seikan simply stepped to the side.


    Effortless. Precise.


    The spell shot harmlessly past him, colliding with the far wall.


    Seikan clasped his hands behind his back. ¡°That,¡± he said, ¡°was footwork.¡±


    Soya swallowed.


    Seikan continued. ¡°A spell does not seek its target. It moves in a straight path. If you move first, the spell misses. Simple.¡±


    Davonte, watching closely, huffed. ¡°Yeah, well, easier said than done.¡±


    Seikan raised a single brow. ¡°Then do it.¡±


    Davonte blinked. ¡°Wait, what?¡±


    Seikan¡¯s wand flicked.


    ¡°Flipendo.¡±


    Davonte yelped and barely managed to dive to the side before the spell shot past him.


    The students gasped.


    Seikan¡¯s expression remained composed. ¡°Faster.¡±


    Davonte scrambled to his feet, eyes wide. ¡°What the hell?!¡±


    Seikan ignored him, turning back to the rest of the class. ¡°Each of you will learn how to evade before you ever attempt a counterattack. Do not think. Do not hesitate. Move.¡±


    A sharp crack of his wand against his palm, and suddenly, the students realized¡ª


    This wasn¡¯t a lesson.


    This was training.


    And Seikan Blackthorn did not believe in making things easy.


    The energy in the room had shifted.


    This wasn¡¯t an ordinary Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Seikan Blackthorn wasn¡¯t teaching them in the way they were used to. He wasn¡¯t lecturing. He wasn¡¯t walking them through spell theory or textbook defenses.


    He was training them.


    The distinction was subtle, but it was there. Training was something you did to survive.


    And Seikan Blackthorn was a survivor.


    "Again," Seikan said, his voice sharp and unwavering.


    He flicked his wand.


    "Depulso."


    A student tried to dodge¡ªtoo slow. The spell clipped their shoulder, sending them stumbling back into a desk with a thud.


    "Too predictable," Seikan said. "You moved after the spell was cast. Move first."


    Another flick of his wand.


    "Flipendo."


    Another student yelped, diving aside, barely avoiding the hex as it struck the floor beside them. They landed awkwardly, but they landed.


    "Better," Seikan said. His gaze flicked to another student. "Again."


    One by one, he targeted them at random, his movements fluid and controlled. His spells were precise¡ªnot lethal, but relentless.


    The students weren¡¯t being given time to think. That was the point.


    They had to react.


    They had to survive.


    Soya felt his heart hammering in his chest. His turn would come again soon¡ªhe knew it. He had dodged once, but that was instinct. If Seikan turned his wand on him again, would he be able to do it twice?


    "Depulso."


    Soya tensed, but the spell wasn¡¯t aimed at him.


    It was aimed at Davonte.


    Davonte, in true Davonte fashion, had been smirking just seconds before¡ªright up until the spell hit him square in the chest and sent him flying backwards through a row of desks.


    The room went silent, the enter class seemed to be collectively holding their breath.


    A moment later, a groan came from the wreckage. Davonte¡¯s hand weakly lifted from behind an overturned chair. ¡°...I hate this class.¡±


    Seikan didn¡¯t even blink. "Pain is an excellent teacher," he said.


    Davonte groaned again.


    Tiana, despite herself, snorted.


    Seikan turned back to the class, expression unreadable. "Magic is not a shield against reality," he stated. "Your wands will not save you if your mind is too slow. Your body will not survive if you hesitate."


    His gaze swept over them, sharp and cold. "Survival is what matters. Not your grades. Not your pride. If you cannot keep up, you will not last when it truly counts."


    The room was utterly still.


    Seikan let his words settle before nodding slightly. "Again."


    And the training continued.


    The lesson finally ended.


    Not with a neat conclusion, nor with any parting words of encouragement¡ªSeikan Blackthorn wasn¡¯t the type for that. Instead, he had simply flicked his wand one last time, dismissing them all with a simple, "You may go."


    No praise. No final remarks. Just the quiet understanding that they had survived another hour of his brutal, no-nonsense training.


    Soya was exhausted.


    Not physically¡ªhis body was fine¡ªbut mentally? His brain felt like it had been put through a wringer. His nerves were still wired from dodging spells, his thoughts racing through everything Seikan had said, trying to process it all.


    Next to him, Davonte groaned as he stretched his arms, still clearly sore from being launched into a row of desks. "Man, I am never gonna recover from that class."


    "You¡¯ll live," Draven said dryly, adjusting his bag over his shoulder.


    "I dunno, mate. I think my soul took damage."


    Kalsei grinned, from behind him. "On the bright side, you did get some valuable combat experience."


    Davonte scoffed. "Experience? I got flung across the classroom like a bloody ragdoll!"


    Tiana smirked. "And yet, you still kept running your mouth. Fascinating."


    They continued walking toward their common room, the usual post-class banter keeping their spirits light¡ªuntil they rounded a corner.


    And froze.


    A truly unexpected sight greeted them.


    Grundle Strang, their half-giant classmate, was standing towering over someone much, much smaller.


    Sage Blackthorn.


    The two were standing in the middle of the corridor, and while Sage normally had a presence that made people wary, it was utterly dwarfed by Grundle¡¯s sheer size.


    The five of them stopped walking, watching with fascination.


    Grundle tilted his head down, his warm amber eyes filled with something deeply sincere.


    "You look like you need a hug," he said simply.


    Sage stiffened instantly, his expression turning into a scowl. "What?"


    Grundle, unfazed, nodded thoughtfully. "Yep. You look like you really need a hug."


    Sage took a slow step back, his body tense. "I don¡¯t¡ª"


    Grundle scooped him up.


    Effortlessly.


    Like lifting a kitten.


    "Put me down," Sage snapped, his voice caught somewhere between fury and outright horror.


    Grundle gave him a soft pat on the back, holding him with the kind of gentle strength that defied reason. "Shhh," he rumbled. "It¡¯s okay."


    Sage¡¯s entire body went rigid. "I swear, if you don¡¯t¡ª"


    Grundle gave him another gentle squeeze. "There, there."


    Soya, Draven, Davonte, Kalsei, and Tiana stood there, completely frozen, watching this unfold in utter disbelief.


    Sage Blackthorn. The cold, calculating, ruthless student who barely showed an ounce of warmth to anyone¡­ was currently being cuddled like an upset toddler in the arms of the kindest half-giant in Austramore.


    Sage struggled, but it was pointless.


    Grundle was Grundle.


    "You¡¯re fighting the inevitable," Grundle said cheerfully, patting him again.


    Sage let out an actual snarl. "Put. Me. Down."


    Grundle finally relented, setting him carefully back onto the ground.


    Sage stumbled, his face caught between rage and humiliation.


    Grundle just smiled warmly down at him. "See? Bet you feel better already."


    Sage¡¯s expression suggested he wanted to commit several violent crimes.


    The five of them watching were barely containing themselves.


    Davonte leaned over to Kalsei, whispering, "This is the best thing I¡¯ve ever seen in my life."


    Kalsei nodded fervently.


    Sage, regaining his composure, glared up at Grundle. His voice was low, seething. "Never do that again."


    Grundle just gave him a thumbs up. "Okay!"


    Sage stormed off, robes billowing, his entire existence vibrating with fury.


    The moment he was out of sight, the five of them lost it.


    Davonte was doubled over, wheezing with laughter. Kalsei had to physically support himself against a wall. Tiana, normally composed, was grinning into her sleeve. Even Draven looked mildly amused.


    Soya just stood there, still trying to process what had just happened.


    Grundle turned back to them, smiling warmly. "That was nice."


    Davonte wiped a tear from his eye. "Mate. You¡¯re a legend."


    Grundle beamed. "Thanks!"


    And with that, the half-giant wandered off, completely unbothered, as if he hadn¡¯t just traumatized one of the most dangerous students in Austramore with sheer affection.


    Soya let out a breath.


    Austramore was insane.

 Chapter 47: Shifting Safety

    Seikan Blackthorn stood in Boromus Spellchecker¡¯s office, his sharp emerald gaze locked onto the headmaster as he made his request. The atmosphere in the office was calm, filled with the faint scent of old parchment and incense, yet there was an undeniable weight between them. A weight Boromus was well aware of.


    Boromus, seated behind his grand desk cluttered with half-read scrolls, enchanted trinkets, and a teacup that stirred itself absently, regarded Seikan with an expression of knowing amusement, yet an underlying seriousness.


    ¡°You¡¯re requesting a house change for your son,¡± Boromus mused, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the arm of his chair. ¡°Not an unreasonable request, given the circumstances.¡± His sharp eyes flickered with something deeper, something unreadable.


    Seikan did not waver. ¡°No, it is not.¡± His voice was steady, unwavering, as always. ¡°Sevrin attempted to kill him. I will not have Sage sharing a dorm with him.¡±


    Boromus let out a slow breath through his nose, leaning back slightly. His silver hair, wild as ever, shifted as he tilted his head. ¡°You know, I anticipated this conversation.¡± He gestured vaguely toward the parchment-strewn desk. ¡°Even took the liberty of considering which house might be best suited.¡±


    ¡°Thylacea,¡± Seikan stated immediately. ¡°Sage is too much like me. He needs¡­ balance.¡±


    Boromus¡¯s gaze sharpened slightly at those words. Seikan rarely admitted personal faults, even in roundabout ways. ¡°An interesting choice,¡± the headmaster mused, though he didn¡¯t argue. ¡°Yes, I suspect Thylacea will suit him well enough. The house values survival and adaptability, after all. But, of course, I will need Sage¡¯s agreement.¡±


    ¡°He will not argue,¡± Seikan said simply.


    Boromus hummed, tapping his wand against his palm in thought before abruptly shifting gears. ¡°And what of Sevrin?¡± His voice carried more weight now. ¡°You are well aware of what he has done. His actions, under Salsiar¡¯s orders or not, could warrant immediate expulsion. Attempted murder within these walls is no light matter, Seikan.¡±


    The potions master remained composed, but something tightened in his jaw. ¡°I do not want him expelled.¡±


    Boromus arched a brow. ¡°Oh?¡±


    Seikan¡¯s gaze darkened slightly. ¡°If he is expelled, he will be beyond anyone¡¯s reach. He is going down a dark path. Here, at least, he is under watchful eyes.¡± His lips pressed into a thin line. ¡°Even if I wish I could handle the matter myself.¡±


    Boromus exhaled slowly, watching Seikan closely. ¡°A father¡¯s restraint,¡± he murmured, more to himself than anything.


    Seikan didn¡¯t answer.


    Boromus let the silence stretch between them before he finally gave a slow nod. ¡°Very well. I will see to the house transfer immediately.¡± Then, after a moment of thought, he added, ¡°And as for Sevrin¡­ we will keep him within these walls. But do not mistake this for leniency. There will be consequences, Seikan. He will not walk away from this unchallenged.¡±


    Seikan inclined his head slightly. He did not argue.


    Boromus waved a hand, and a parchment floated toward him, quill poised and ready. He scribbled a quick note, sealing the arrangement with an idle flick of his wand. ¡°Now, if that is all¡ª¡±


    Seikan didn¡¯t move.


    Boromus gave a small, knowing smirk. ¡°Ah. That is not all.¡±


    Seikan¡¯s voice was lower now, almost dangerous in its quiet intensity. ¡°The next time Sevrin raises his wand against my son¡­¡± His emerald eyes gleamed with something almost feral. ¡°I will not be so diplomatic.¡±


    Boromus met his gaze with calm understanding. He did not rebuke him.


    Instead, with a knowing smile, he simply said, ¡°Understood.¡±


    The Yarramundi common room was quiet, bathed in the dim glow of enchanted lanterns hanging along the walls. The air was thick with the scent of aged wood and parchment, the occasional flicker of a candle casting long shadows across the walls.


    Sage Blackthorn sat in the far corner, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the grooves in the table before him. He wasn¡¯t doing anything in particular¡ªjust thinking. He had been doing a lot of that lately.


    The sharp sound of the common room door opening drew his attention. A figure stepped inside¡ªa prefect, their blue and gold badge gleaming under the soft lighting.


    ¡°Sage Blackthorn?¡±


    Sage frowned slightly. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    The prefect didn¡¯t seem fazed by his sharp tone. ¡°You¡¯re being relocated to a different house. I¡¯ve been sent to escort you.¡±


    Sage blinked. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re being transferred to Thylacea,¡± the prefect clarified.


    Sage stiffened. ¡°Says who?¡±


    ¡°The headmaster,¡± the prefect answered simply.


    Sage¡¯s eyes narrowed. He hadn¡¯t been told about this. No warning. No explanation. And now, suddenly, he was being removed from Yarramundi? He knew exactly why¡ªSevrin. After everything that had happened, there was no way Seikan would allow him to remain in the same dorm as the boy who had nearly killed him.


    Sage exhaled slowly, forcing his temper under control. He wasn¡¯t angry, not exactly. He just didn¡¯t like being blind-sided.


    ¡°Fine,¡± he muttered, standing. ¡°Lead the way.¡±


    The prefect turned and began walking, and Sage followed in silence, his mind racing.


    After a few corridors, he finally asked, ¡°So what happens now?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll be assigned a new dorm in Thylacea,¡± the prefect explained. ¡°Same year level, same accommodations¡ªjust a different house.¡±


    Sage frowned. ¡°Do I get a choice in this?¡±


    The prefect glanced at him, unimpressed. ¡°If you want to argue with Professor Blackthorn about it, be my guest.¡±


    Sage exhaled sharply through his nose. No. That wasn¡¯t a battle he was willing to pick.


    As they walked, he took in the shift in the castle¡¯s atmosphere. Yarramundi¡¯s common room had been deep within the stone corridors of the school, but Thylacea¡¯s was closer to the outer walls, where the night air seeped through open archways. The further they walked, the more the ambiance changed¡ªwarmer, more open, filled with the faint scent of the forest beyond.


    When they finally reached the entrance, the prefect gestured ahead. ¡°You¡¯ll be in the same dorm as Vareen, Evander, and Corvidus.¡±


    Sage stopped dead in his tracks.


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    ¡°¡­What?¡±


    The prefect arched a brow. ¡°Problem?¡±


    Sage clenched his jaw. He had just been assigned to a dorm with Soya Vareen. The Muggle-born. The same kid he and Sevrin had tormented at the start of the year. The same kid who had, in the span of only a few months, drawn the attention of something ancient¡ªsomething even Salsiar had been after.


    Sage had spent the better part of the year mocking Vareen. And now?


    Now he was sharing a dorm with him.


    Sage closed his eyes for a brief moment, inhaled, and let it out slowly.


    ¡°Fine.¡± His voice was tight. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with.¡±


    The prefect smirked slightly, amused at his clear discomfort, before gesturing him forward.


    And so, with the weight of inevitability settling on his shoulders, Sage Blackthorn stepped into his new home.


    The Thylacea dormitory was usually a place of quiet comfort¡ªa space where the students could unwind without the rigidity of classes or the looming pressure of exams. But tonight, a certain disturbance had the three boys in deep discussion.


    Soya sat cross-legged on his bed, sketchbook in hand, absently running his fingers along the edges of the parchment while he listened. Davonte stood with his arms crossed, glaring at the new bed that had been added to the room, while Draven sat comfortably in his own, flipping through a book with idle interest.


    ¡°That¡¯s definitely a new bed,¡± Davonte stated firmly, as if anyone needed convincing.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Draven replied without looking up, ¡°that is how additional dorm mates tend to work.¡±


    Davonte huffed. ¡°That¡¯s not the point.¡±


    Soya glanced between them before speaking. ¡°Who do you think it¡¯s for?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m trying to figure out,¡± Davonte said, tapping his fingers against his arm. ¡°Could be a transfer. Maybe someone got moved because of disciplinary reasons. Maybe¡ª¡± He suddenly narrowed his eyes. ¡°Maybe this is a prank.¡±


    Draven finally looked up. ¡°A prank?¡±


    ¡°Yeah! Maybe some rich pureblood heir got bored and decided to test their authority by randomly moving in with us.¡±


    Draven blinked slowly. ¡°That is, without a doubt, the stupidest theory I have ever heard.¡±


    ¡°I think it has merit,¡± Davonte muttered.


    Soya tilted his head. ¡°Do people actually do that?¡±


    Davonte threw his hands up. ¡°Rich people do weird things!¡±


    Before the debate could escalate, the dormitory door swung open.


    The three of them turned.


    And then froze.


    Sage Blackthorn stood in the doorway.


    The room fell into an eerie silence, as if the entire world had paused for a moment too long.


    Sage, for his part, did not look particularly happy about being there either. His dark eyes flicked across the room, taking in their expressions¡ªDavonte¡¯s blatant suspicion, Soya¡¯s nervous confusion, and Draven¡¯s cool, unreadable gaze.


    ¡°¡­Oh,¡± Sage muttered. ¡°Great.¡±


    Davonte was the first to snap out of his shock. His brows furrowed, voice immediately laced with distrust. ¡°What the hell are you doing here, Blackthorn?¡±


    Sage sighed. ¡°Fantastic welcome. Love that.¡± He stepped inside, dropping his bag beside the new bed. ¡°If you must know, I was moved. Didn¡¯t get much say in it.¡±


    Soya blinked. ¡°You¡­ transferred to Thylacea?¡±


    ¡°Apparently.¡± Sage sounded about as thrilled about it as they were.


    Davonte bristled. ¡°And we weren¡¯t told?¡± He glanced toward Soya, protective instinct kicking in hard. ¡°And you expect us to just accept that you¡¯re suddenly bunking with us?¡±


    Sage exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. ¡°Trust me, Evander, I¡¯m not exactly thrilled about this either.¡±


    Davonte scoffed, stepping forward slightly, shoulders squared. ¡°Yeah? Well, you¡¯ll excuse me if I don¡¯t exactly trust the guy who spent half the year making Soya¡¯s life miserable.¡±


    Sage didn¡¯t flinch, but his jaw did tighten slightly.


    Soya, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke.


    ¡°Davonte.¡± His voice was soft, but firm.


    Davonte glanced at him, frowning.


    Soya shifted slightly, his grip tightening on his sketchbook. He was nervous¡ªhe wouldn¡¯t lie about that. But at the same time¡­


    Sage looked tired. Not in an exhausted way, but in the way that suggested he had been carrying a lot lately.


    ¡°¡­He¡¯s here now,¡± Soya said simply.


    The words carried weight, even if they weren¡¯t anything profound.


    Davonte scowled, clearly unhappy, but he backed off¡ªif only because Soya was the one who had been hurt by Sage¡¯s actions the most.


    Draven, who had been watching the entire exchange, finally spoke, his voice calm and composed as always. ¡°This will be interesting.¡±


    Sage sighed. ¡°Thanks, Corvidus.¡±


    Soya hesitated for a moment, then, in a quiet but sincere voice, said, ¡°Welcome to Thylacea.¡±


    Sage stilled slightly.


    He didn¡¯t reply immediately.


    But after a moment, with a quiet, unreadable expression, he muttered, ¡°Yeah. Thanks.¡±


    And just like that, Sage Blackthorn became their dorm mate.


    The morning light seeped in through the dormitory windows, casting long shadows across the stone walls of the Thylacea dorm. The early sounds of students stirring, robes rustling, and the faint chirping of birds outside signaled the start of another day at Austramore.


    Soya slowly woke, blinking blearily as he sat up, his hair a tousled mess. He rubbed his eyes, stretching slightly before glancing around. Draven was already sitting up in his bed, book in hand, as if he had simply been waiting for the world to catch up with him.


    Davonte, predictably, was sprawled out across his bed, half-covered by his blankets in a position that looked entirely uncomfortable. He mumbled something incoherent as he shifted.


    And Sage¡­


    Sage was awake too, though he had remained quiet in his bed, staring at the ceiling in thought.


    Soya hesitated for a moment before offering a quiet, ¡°Good morning.¡±


    Draven glanced up from his book briefly before returning to reading. ¡°Morning.¡±


    Davonte grumbled something about it being too early for sentient thought.


    Sage, however, paused before muttering, ¡°¡­Yeah. Morning.¡±


    That was about the extent of their morning interaction.


    Davonte didn¡¯t acknowledge Sage beyond that. He got up, stretched, and immediately started getting ready for the day, all while making it very clear that he was entirely unbothered by Sage¡¯s presence¡ªor at least, pretending to be.


    Draven, unsurprisingly, didn¡¯t engage much either. Not out of hostility, just because he was Draven.


    Soya, on the other hand, was quiet as he got dressed, throwing on his robes before slinging his bag over his shoulder. He wasn¡¯t comfortable around Sage yet¡ªhe doubted that would come any time soon¡ªbut he also wasn¡¯t going to treat him like an outcast.


    They made their way out of the dorm, heading toward the Great Hall for breakfast.


    It wasn¡¯t until they reached the wider corridors, filled with the morning chatter of students, that Soya realized something.


    Sage was following them.


    Not in a creepy or intentional way¡ªat least, Soya didn¡¯t think so. It was¡­ subtle. Sage kept just a little behind them, not with them, but never too far. He wasn¡¯t walking in his usual confident, self-assured stride. Instead, he moved with something almost uncertain, like he was lingering just close enough to seem like he belonged but not close enough to assume he did.


    Soya frowned slightly but said nothing.


    By the time they reached the Great Hall, the group spotted Kalsei and Tiana already at the Thylacea table.


    Davonte immediately plopped down next to Kalsei, stretching his arms with an exaggerated yawn. ¡°Alright, someone tell me why mornings exist.¡±


    ¡°Because time moves forward, unfortunately,¡± Kalsei said cheerfully, twirling a spoon between his fingers.


    Tiana raised a brow as she glanced between them. ¡°You all look exhausted.¡±


    Draven set his book down as he sat. ¡°We survived Blackthorn¡¯s Defense Against the Dark Arts class yesterday.¡±


    Kalsei¡¯s eyebrows shot up. ¡°Oh. That explains it.¡±


    Soya took his usual spot next to them, quietly grabbing some toast.


    And then¡ª


    Sage.


    Sage hesitated for the briefest moment before sitting down at the Thylacea table.


    Not with them, not directly.


    Just close enough.


    Soya caught it instantly.


    Sage had never sat at this table before. He had always belonged to Yarramundi. He had always been separate from them.


    Sage didn¡¯t say anything. He just quietly grabbed a plate, acting as though he had always been there. But his posture was stiff, and there was a tension in his shoulders that suggested he wasn¡¯t quite sure if he was welcome.


    Soya glanced at Davonte, who pointedly ignored him.


    Kalsei, on the other hand, gave Sage a curious look before shrugging and turning back to his food.


    Soya exhaled quietly.


    Sage Blackthorn, whether he wanted to admit it or not, was trying¡ªawkwardly, stiffly, but trying.

 Chapter 48: Mental Health

    The Great Hall hummed with the usual morning chatter, the clinking of cutlery against plates, and the occasional outburst of laughter from students scattered among their house tables. Golden morning light filtered through the enchanted ceiling, reflecting the clear blue sky outside, promising a warm day ahead. At the Thylacea table, Soya Vareen sat between Davonte and Draven, slowly chewing on a piece of toast as he half-listened to the conversation around him. Across the table, Tiana sipped her tea with quiet poise, while Kalsei twirled a spoon between his fingers absentmindedly, as if entertaining himself with some private thought.


    Sage, seated just a little too close to the group to be unintentional, was pretending he wasn¡¯t listening. He hadn¡¯t quite figured out how to integrate himself yet, but his presence was no longer as aggressively cold as it once was. He was trying¡ªeven if his natural guardedness kept him from making it obvious.


    Then, without warning, the sound of a spoon tapping against the rim of a goblet silenced the entire hall.


    The gentle, rhythmic sound had an immediate effect. All eyes turned toward the head table, where Headmaster Boromus Spellchecker stood, his ever-curious expression lingering as if he had only just remembered why he had gotten to his feet in the first place.


    ¡°Ah. Yes. That¡¯s what I was doing,¡± he murmured to himself, before raising his voice for the hall to hear. ¡°A moment of your time, dear students.¡±


    The noise died down completely. Even the most inattentive students knew that when Boromus decided to speak, it was worth listening¡ªif only because there was no telling what he might say. Some announcements were deeply profound. Others, utterly nonsensical. Either way, it was bound to be memorable.


    ¡°I have a rather exciting announcement today¡ªone that I¡¯m sure will be of interest to all of you. As you know, Austramore has always prided itself on fostering not just academic success, but emotional well-being. As such, I am pleased to introduce our returning school counsellor, Liora Wren, as well as our newest addition to the staff, Samuel Bradley.¡±


    At those words, the two individuals standing beside Professor Seikan Blackthorn took a step forward.


    Liora Wren was a familiar face to many¡ªtall and graceful, with warm, hazel-green eyes that seemed to hold endless patience. Her wavy dark brown hair was streaked with silver, tied back in a loose braid, giving her an air of quiet wisdom. She was a counselor who had never needed to ask intrusive questions to understand students¡¯ struggles¡ªher mere presence was often enough to soothe even the most troubled minds. For years, she had been a pillar of support at Austramore, but she had left the previous year for personal reasons. Now, she had returned, her expression calm and reassuring as ever.


    Beside her stood Samuel Bradley, a man of easy confidence, despite the slight messiness of his warm brown hair. He carried himself with a casual but open posture, his hazel-green eyes filled with quiet understanding. Though his attire leaned more on the professional side, his rolled-up sleeves and comfortable boots made it clear that he preferred practicality over strict formality. There was something inherently approachable about him¡ªsomething that immediately put students at ease, even before he spoke.


    Boromus gestured toward them with a flourish.


    ¡°Liora, as many of you know, has been with us for some time and is returning to her post after a year away. She is a wellspring of wisdom, kindness, and, I dare say, more patience than any of us truly deserve.¡± A chuckle rippled through the hall. ¡°And as for Samuel¡ªwell, he is here to ensure that no student, no matter their background or struggles, feels alone in their journey.¡±


    Liora inclined her head with her usual gentle smile. ¡°I look forward to being here again,¡± she said simply, her voice carrying a quiet warmth.


    Samuel stepped forward and, in stark contrast, gave the students a cheeky grin. ¡°Not much for big speeches, so I¡¯ll just say this¡ªI¡¯m here if you need someone to talk to, someone to vent at, or just someone to steal biscuits from my office. I do have the best ones.¡± A few scattered laughs spread across the hall at that. ¡°My door¡¯s open, no pressure, no judgment. That¡¯s all.¡±


    Seikan Blackthorn, who had remained silent thus far, finally spoke, his voice carrying the same sharp precision as always. ¡°These counselors are here to provide support in times of need. I trust you all have enough sense to respect their time and take advantage of their guidance when necessary.¡±


    Boromus, smiling as if amused by Seikan¡¯s way of putting things, clapped his hands together. ¡°Splendid. That concludes our morning announcements. Do enjoy the rest of your breakfast.¡±


    With that, the students slowly returned to their meals, but the presence of the two counselors had already sparked a wave of hushed conversations across the hall.


    At the Thylacea table, Davonte leaned over to Soya, voice low. ¡°Think I could just go to Bradley¡¯s office to steal biscuits, or does that count as an emotional crisis?¡±


    Soya, despite still being shaken from recent events, couldn¡¯t help but let out a small laugh. ¡°I think you¡¯d have to at least pretend to be troubled.¡±


    ¡°Mate, I am troubled. I¡¯m troubled about the quality of biscuits served at this school.¡±


    Tiana arched a brow. ¡°You could just ask him.¡±


    ¡°That takes the fun out of it.¡±


    Draven, who had been silent up until now, absently flipped a page in his ever-present journal. ¡°You¡¯d make a terrible criminal.¡±


    ¡°Oi, that¡¯s uncalled for.¡±


    ¡°I simply mean you¡¯re too obvious.¡±


    Kalsei grinned. ¡°Not to mention too loud.¡±


    Sage, who had been quietly picking at his breakfast, found himself watching them¡ªobserving how easily they interacted, how effortlessly they fit together. It was¡­ foreign to him. But part of him wanted to understand it.


    Davonte Evander prided himself on many things¡ªhis confidence, his charm, his ability to remain unfazed by nearly anything. But most of all? His sheer, unwavering dedication to snacks.


    And today, he had a mission.


    A mission to infiltrate Samuel Bradley¡¯s biscuit supply.


    The moment breakfast had ended, Davonte had peeled away from his usual group, giving them a casual wave and mumbling something about ¡°important matters¡± before vanishing down the corridors.


    Now, standing outside Professor Bradley¡¯s office, he adjusted his expression into something appropriately tragic. He had to sell it. Had to make it convincing.


    Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door.


    There was a pause before a voice called out, ¡°Come in!¡±


    Davonte pushed the door open, stepping inside.


    Samuel Bradley¡¯s office was different from most professors¡¯. The space felt comfortable¡ªnot the rigid, scholarly atmosphere most staff members preferred. There was a well-worn couch near the fireplace, a few bean bags tossed into the mix, and warm light filtering through the tall arched windows. Bookshelves lined the walls, but instead of being meticulously organized, they were scattered with odd trinkets, small enchanted orbs, and¡ªmost importantly¡ªa large tin of biscuits sitting prominently on the desk.


    Samuel sat in his chair, sleeves rolled up, leaning back in an effortlessly casual way as he studied Davonte with mild amusement. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s hear it. What¡¯s got you in a twist?¡±


    Davonte exhaled dramatically, flopping into one of the chairs across from him. He dragged a hand down his face for extra effect. ¡°Professor, I just¡­ I don¡¯t know anymore.¡±


    Samuel nodded sagely, already reaching for the biscuit tin. ¡°Rough day?¡±


    ¡°Oh, mate, you have no idea.¡± Davonte sniffled for good measure.


    A very unconvincing sniffle.


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    Samuel didn¡¯t call him out. Instead, he cracked open the tin and nudged it toward Davonte. ¡°Biscuit?¡±


    Davonte took one immediately, shoving it into his mouth with the speed of a man who had never eaten before in his life. ¡°Fank you,¡± he mumbled around the biscuit.


    Samuel leaned forward, elbows on his desk. ¡°Want to talk about it?¡±


    Davonte sighed heavily, taking another biscuit. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ school, y¡¯know? So much pressure.¡± Crunch.


    Samuel raised a brow. ¡°Uh-huh.¡±


    ¡°I mean, people expect so much from me.¡± Crunch. ¡°Always thinking I¡¯ve got everything figured out.¡± Crunch. ¡°But inside? Who even am I?¡±


    Samuel¡¯s lips twitched. ¡°A guy eating an alarming number of biscuits in my office?¡±


    Davonte paused, mid-reach for another biscuit, before letting out a deep sigh. ¡°See? This is exactly what I mean.¡±


    Samuel chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°So, just so I¡¯m clear¡­ you came here under the guise of an existential crisis¡ª¡±


    ¡°A real existential crisis.¡±


    ¡°¡ªto eat my biscuits.¡±


    Davonte gave him a deeply serious look. ¡°Mate, I¡¯m suffering.¡±


    Samuel snorted, leaning back in his chair. ¡°Right. Of course. Suffering.¡±


    Davonte nodded solemnly.


    There was a long pause.


    ¡°¡­Well?¡± Samuel prompted.


    ¡°Well what?¡±


    Samuel gestured. ¡°Are you gonna take another biscuit, or are you just going to stare at them longingly?¡±


    Davonte grabbed two.


    Samuel sighed, amused. ¡°You¡¯re the worst liar I¡¯ve ever seen.¡±


    Davonte grinned through a mouthful of biscuit. ¡°Mate, you knew what this was when you let me in.¡±


    Samuel chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°Yeah, yeah. Just don¡¯t let this become a habit.¡±


    Davonte gave him a thumbs up, stuffing another biscuit into his mouth.


    It was absolutely going to become a habit.


    The main courtyard of Austramore was a haven on days like this¡ªclear blue skies stretched endlessly above, the scent of eucalyptus and fresh earth lingering in the air. The sandstone pathways were warm underfoot, lined with patches of bright green grass where students lounged in clusters, enjoying the rare day off from classes.


    At the center of it all, beneath the sprawling shade of a massive ghost gum tree, Soya and his friends had gathered.


    Davonte stretched his arms lazily, flopping onto the grass with all the grace of a sunbathing lizard. ¡°Now this is the life,¡± he sighed. ¡°No classes, no responsibilities, and best of all¡ªno Seikan Blackthorn launching me across a classroom.¡±


    ¡°You did fail to dodge,¡± Draven pointed out, flipping through his ever-present journal.


    ¡°I failed because he flung a spell at me out of nowhere!¡±


    Tiana smirked, taking a delicate sip from her tea flask. ¡°If you think that was ¡®out of nowhere,¡¯ you clearly weren¡¯t paying attention. He warned you.¡±


    ¡°Not in words I understood!¡±


    ¡°You mean at all?¡± Kalsei grinned, as he flicked a pebble toward Davonte.


    Davonte caught it with practiced ease. ¡°I swear, one day, I¡¯m gonna catch all of you off guard.¡±


    ¡°You say that, yet here we are,¡± Tiana mused.


    Before Davonte could argue, Saunak Carswell came bounding toward them, all energy and excitement. His soft silver-white hair glowed in the sunlight, shifting between pink and yellow, his expression one of pure enthusiasm. ¡°You guys will not believe what I found!¡±


    Davonte sat up immediately. ¡°Please say it¡¯s food.¡±


    ¡°Nope,¡± Saunak grinned, dramatically pulling out a small, enchanted orb from his pocket. ¡°It¡¯s a prank device. You roll it under someone¡¯s chair, and it makes a really convincing squishing noise.¡±


    There was a pause.


    ¡°¡­That¡¯s disgusting,¡± Manaya Moon said flatly, arriving alongside Salem Blackthorn, her usual calm expression giving no indication of whether she was horrified or impressed.


    ¡°Salem, please tell me you¡¯re not part of this nonsense,¡± Tiana said, crossing her arms.


    Salem, standing slightly behind Manaya, hesitated. ¡°¡­I reserve my right to remain neutral.¡±


    Draven glanced at the device with mild interest. ¡°Scientifically speaking, what kind of ¡®squishing¡¯ are we talking about?¡±


    Saunak grinned way too much at that. ¡°Wanna find out?¡±


    Kalsei immediately leaned in. ¡°Absolutely.¡±


    Before they could put their plan into action, Grundle Strang entered the scene¡ªhis towering half-giant form casting a long shadow over them all. His massive hands held a tiny, sleepy wombat, which he cradled with utmost gentleness.


    ¡°Barney fell asleep in my pocket again,¡± Grundle announced cheerfully. ¡°I think he likes it there.¡±


    Davonte immediately forgot about Saunak¡¯s prank device. ¡°Mate, that is the cutest thing I have ever seen.¡±


    Soya, who had been quietly sketching, peeked up from his sketchbook, eyes softening slightly at the sight of the wombat snoozing in Grundle¡¯s palm. ¡°He looks comfortable,¡± he murmured.


    Grundle beamed. ¡°He is. He likes the warmth.¡±


    ¡°Honestly? Same,¡± Davonte muttered. ¡°I should start carrying a wombat around for warmth.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not how it works,¡± Tiana sighed.


    Soya allowed himself a small smile as he returned to his sketching. This¡ªthis was the kind of moment he liked. Just existing. No pressure. No expectations.


    Yet¡­


    His gaze drifted slightly.


    A few meters away, standing under the archway of the courtyard, was Sage Blackthorn.


    He wasn¡¯t with them.


    But he wasn¡¯t far either.


    He lingered just at the edges, watching¡ªnot in a malicious way, not as if he was planning anything. Just¡­ watching.


    Like he wasn¡¯t sure whether he was allowed to be part of this.


    Like he didn¡¯t know how.


    Soya noticed him first. He didn¡¯t say anything, didn¡¯t call attention to it. But as he turned the page in his sketchbook, he made a quiet decision.


    He wouldn¡¯t force Sage into anything.


    But if he ever decided to step closer¡ª


    They wouldn¡¯t turn him away.


    Grundle Strang¡¯s massive form cast a long shadow as he turned toward the archway, his warm amber eyes spotting Sage Blackthorn standing alone in the distance. Unlike the others, Grundle didn¡¯t hesitate.


    With a bright grin, he marched straight toward Sage, his massive steps thudding softly against the stone pathways. The tiny wombat in his palm, still half-asleep, gave a little snuffle but otherwise remained unbothered.


    ¡°Sage!¡± Grundle called cheerfully. ¡°Look!¡±


    Sage tensed instantly, eyes darting to the group as if expecting some kind of trap.


    Then he realized Grundle was just showing him the wombat.


    ¡°¡­What.¡±


    Grundle beamed, holding Barney up slightly, as if that explained everything. ¡°He fell asleep in my pocket again!¡±


    Sage stared at the tiny, dozing wombat, completely unprepared for the interaction. ¡°And?¡±


    Grundle¡¯s grin never wavered. ¡°Isn¡¯t he cute?¡±


    Sage blinked. He opened his mouth, closed it, then exhaled sharply. ¡°I¡ªsure. I guess.¡±


    Grundle nodded proudly, as if Sage had just made some grand declaration. ¡°Right? He¡¯s so soft too!¡±


    Sage did not know what to do with this information.


    From a short distance away, Davonte Evander watched the exchange with thinly veiled suspicion, his arms crossed. His silver eyes flickered with protective instinct, muscles tensing just in case Sage tried to pull something.


    It was only when Soya¡¯s fingers lightly wrapped around his wrist that Davonte snapped out of it.


    Soya had barely spoken, but his quiet presence was enough to get Davonte to glance down at him.


    Soya didn¡¯t say anything. He just shook his head slightly, his expression calm, but firm.


    Davonte gritted his teeth, clearly reluctant. But after a long moment, he huffed and looked away.


    Soya turned his attention back to Sage.


    The boy stood there, stiff, guarded, but there was something different about him now. Maybe it was the subtle hesitation, the way he seemed lost instead of cruel.


    Soya inhaled slowly.


    And then, to everyone¡¯s surprise¡ª


    He spoke.


    ¡°¡­You¡¯re good at runes, right?¡±


    Sage¡¯s head snapped toward him instantly, eyes narrowing. ¡°What?¡±


    Soya shifted, his hands gripping his sketchbook. He hated drawing attention to himself like this, but¡ª


    He wanted to try.


    ¡°¡­Think you could help me understand them a bit better?¡± he asked nervously.


    Silence.


    Absolute, stunned silence.


    Draven, Tiana, and Kalsei all froze, exchanging quick glances with each other. None of them had expected this. Even Davonte, who had just restrained himself from interfering, looked visibly pained at what was happening.


    Sage, for his part, just stared at Soya, as if trying to decipher some hidden motive.


    ¡°¡­You want me to teach you runes?¡± Sage finally asked, voice flat.


    Soya nodded. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    Soya hesitated before saying quietly, ¡°Because you know them. And I don¡¯t.¡±


    Sage¡¯s fingers twitched slightly at his side, and for a brief second¡ªjust a second¡ªthere was something almost vulnerable in his expression.


    Then, as if realizing too much emotion had slipped through, he straightened, his posture becoming rigid again.


    ¡°¡­Fine,¡± Sage muttered.


    Davonte¡¯s jaw dropped slightly.


    Tiana raised an eyebrow.


    Kalsei tilted his head, amused.


    Draven, ever the observer, simply watched, filing the moment away in his mind.


    Soya gave a small, hesitant nod. ¡°Okay.¡±


    Sage exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. ¡°But don¡¯t expect me to make it easy.¡±


    Soya offered a tiny, fleeting smile. ¡°Didn¡¯t think you would.¡±

 Chapter 49: Learning to be Nice

    The potions classroom was cool and dimly lit, the stone walls lined with ancient shelves packed with vials of shimmering liquids, preserved herbs, and glass jars containing things most students preferred not to look at too closely. The scent of crushed roots and bubbling brews filled the air, thick with the underlying sharpness of something vaguely acidic.


    At the front of the room, standing behind his desk with his usual unwavering posture, was Professor Seikan Blackthorn.


    His emerald green eyes scanned the class with the same quiet intensity that had made even the most confident students hesitate under his gaze. With his robes perfectly pressed and his hands clasped behind his back, he looked more like a strategist preparing for battle than a professor leading a lesson.


    ¡°Today,¡± Seikan began, his voice sharp and precise, ¡°we will be brewing a Concentrated Nightshade Draught. A potion not meant for consumption, but rather an advanced study in controlled toxicity and extraction refinement.¡±


    There was a brief pause.


    Then Davonte leaned over to Soya, whispering, ¡°So we¡¯re just brewing straight-up poison?¡±


    Seikan did not look up, but his voice carried across the room without effort.


    ¡°If you wish to phrase it in the most brainless way possible, then yes.¡±


    Davonte sat up straight immediately. ¡°Right. Yep. Love that. Totally listening.¡±


    A few students snickered, but none dared to join in too openly.


    Seikan continued smoothly, ¡°The Nightshade Draught is a particularly volatile potion¡ªnot because of its lethality, but because of the precision required to stabilize it. A single misstep in ingredient preparation will cause the mixture to curdle into something entirely useless.¡±


    Tiana raised a hand, her steel-blue hair catching the light as she spoke. ¡°What are its common uses, Professor?¡±


    Seikan¡¯s gaze flickered to her. ¡°Historically, it has been used to create antidotes to certain venom-based spells and creature bites. However, in its raw state, it is¡ª¡± He paused for the slightest moment. ¡°¡ªhighly persuasive in negotiations where one requires a bargaining advantage.¡±


    A few students shifted uncomfortably, while others, like Draven, scribbled notes with interest.


    ¡°Fortunately for you all,¡± Seikan continued, unbothered by their reactions, ¡°we will be working with a diluted version. The school governors would frown upon first-years poisoning themselves so early in the academic year.¡±


    Kalsei, sitting near the back, smirked slightly. ¡°So it¡¯s more of a gentle poison?¡±


    Seikan¡¯s lips twitched, just barely suppressing amusement. ¡°A contained one, if you follow instructions correctly.¡±


    The students got to work, gathering their ingredients and setting up their stations.


    Soya, working alongside Draven and Davonte, focused on slicing his withered nightshade leaves into thin, even strips, his movements calm and methodical.


    Across the room, Sage worked alone, his movements just as precise, if not more so¡ªhis entire focus narrowed in on his work, as if determined to prove something.


    Seikan¡¯s sharp gaze swept the classroom, watching each student carefully, ensuring that no one deviated too far from the instructions.


    The air filled with the bubbling of cauldrons, the quiet hum of muttered incantations, and the occasional hiss of a mixture reacting slightly too aggressively.


    Soya exhaled slowly, his fingers steady as he stirred his potion exactly as instructed.


    The bubbling and hissing of cauldrons filled the potions classroom, the air thick with the scent of nightshade, crushed roots, and the faint, almost metallic tang of brewing magic. The room had settled into a steady rhythm¡ªsoft mutterings of incantations, the occasional clink of stirring rods against metal, and the faint rustle of parchment as students referenced their notes.


    Soya, ever meticulous, kept his movements controlled and precise, his hand stirring in slow, deliberate motions as instructed. His potion had taken on the correct shade of deep indigo, the surface shimmering faintly, meaning he had followed the process correctly.


    Across from him, Draven observed with his usual quiet intensity, flipping through his handwritten notes as he checked their progress.


    ¡°You measured the powdered aconite correctly,¡± Draven murmured, his eyes darting toward Soya¡¯s neatly arranged workspace. ¡°That¡¯s why your viscosity is stable.¡±


    Soya nodded slightly, adjusting his grip on the stirring rod. ¡°Yours looks the same,¡± he noted, glancing at Draven¡¯s cauldron, which was just as refined, a near-perfect match to his own.


    Draven¡¯s lips quirked in satisfaction. ¡°Naturally.¡±


    Meanwhile, Davonte, who had been following the instructions loosely at best, frowned at his own cauldron, which had taken on an unsettling murky brown color instead of the intended deep indigo.


    ¡°¡­This is fine,¡± Davonte muttered.


    ¡°It is not fine,¡± Draven said without looking up.


    ¡°Could still be useful,¡± Davonte reasoned. ¡°Maybe a mildly inconvenient poison instead of a lethal one.¡±


    Soya sighed, rubbing his temple as Davonte tried to salvage his potion.


    A few cauldrons over, Sage¡¯s potion was flawless¡ªa perfect deep violet with no inconsistencies, his work nearly indistinguishable from Seikan¡¯s own demonstration cauldron.


    Seikan¡¯s sharp green eyes swept the room, pausing just long enough to acknowledge Sage¡¯s accuracy before moving on. He gave no praise, but Sage still caught the glance¡ªand for him, that was enough.


    Finally, as the last of the potions reached their final stages, Seikan spoke.


    "Begin bottling your samples. Carefully. I would prefer to leave this lesson without needing to visit the infirmary."


    The students hurried to comply, using their wands to guide the liquid into small, sealed glass vials before placing them neatly into labeled containers.


    Davonte, still scowling at his disastrous concoction, muttered under his breath before quickly bottling whatever it had become.


    Seikan strode to the front of the room, folding his hands behind his back.


    ¡°For some of you, this was a passable attempt,¡± he stated, his gaze sweeping across the classroom. ¡°For others¡­ I will have further discussions about the meaning of following instructions.¡±


    Davonte did not meet his gaze.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°With that, you are dismissed. Clear your stations.¡±


    The sound of chairs scraping against the stone floor filled the room as students gathered their belongings.


    As Soya packed away his notebook, he felt a presence linger nearby.


    He glanced up.


    Sage was standing not too far from their table, his expression unreadable.


    Soya tensed just slightly out of instinct.


    But Sage said nothing.


    Instead, after a brief pause, he simply turned and left the room¡ªwalking ahead of them as the students began filtering out toward Charms class.


    ¡°Man,¡± Davonte groaned as they stepped into the hallway, ¡°you think this class was rough? I love Professor Coorong, but I swear if he makes us practice more high-speed wandwork today, I¡¯m throwing myself into the nearest lake.¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t make it past five minutes,¡± Draven remarked.


    ¡°I would thrive,¡± Davonte argued.


    The Charms classroom was one of the more lively spaces at Austramore. Unlike the cold discipline of Potions or the rigid structure of Transfiguration, Charms always felt unpredictable¡ªpartly because of Professor Jasper Coorong¡¯s unique teaching methods, and partly because of the sheer chaotic energy that came with learning spells meant for practical use.


    Soya and his friends filed into the room, taking their usual seats near the middle, not too close to the front to be questioned immediately, but not far enough to seem inattentive.


    Professor Coorong was already at the front of the room, perched casually on his desk, one leg swinging slightly as he tossed a small enchanted ball between his hands.


    ¡°Right then, my lovely little spellcasters,¡± he greeted with a grin, his colorful robes shifting in hue as he moved. ¡°Today, we are going to be working on consecutive casting¡ªalso known as not standing there like a stunned mullet after every spell you fire off.¡±


    Davonte leaned over to Soya, whispering, ¡°That¡¯s a very specific way of putting it.¡±


    Soya just nodded, already resigned to the chaos that was a Coorong lesson.


    Professor Coorong hopped off his desk and clapped his hands together. ¡°Now, most of you have gotten the hang of individual spellwork. Great. Fantastic. But what happens when you actually need to use them quickly?¡±


    Silence.


    Kalsei raised a hand. ¡°We die?¡±


    Professor Coorong beamed. ¡°Exactly! Or worse¡ªyou look like an absolute amateur. And we can¡¯t have that, can we?¡±


    A few students snickered while others shifted uneasily, already sensing where this was going.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to pair you up,¡± Professor Coorong continued, pacing along the front of the room, ¡°and you will practice chaining spells together. Not just one and done, but moving from one spell to the next smoothly.¡±


    Davonte groaned dramatically, leaning back in his chair. ¡°I knew it. The lake is calling me.¡±


    ¡°Davonte,¡± Tiana said dryly, ¡°if you spent half as much effort practicing as you do complaining, you¡¯d be a magical prodigy by now.¡±


    ¡°You underestimate my commitment to suffering.¡±


    Professor Coorong began listing partners, moving through the room quickly.


    ¡°Tiana, you¡¯re with Kalsei.¡±


    ¡°Draven, you¡¯re with Saunak.¡±


    ¡°Soya¡­ you¡¯re with Sage.¡±


    Soya froze.


    Beside him, Davonte visibly stiffened, his gaze flicking toward Sage immediately.


    Sage himself, who had been half-doodling in his notes out of boredom, paused mid-motion before exhaling sharply.


    ¡°Right,¡± Sage muttered, standing. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with.¡±


    Soya, tense but unwilling to argue, nodded hesitantly and got to his feet.


    Davonte grabbed Soya¡¯s wrist as he passed.


    ¡°You sure about this?¡± he murmured, voice low enough that only Soya could hear.


    Soya hesitated¡ªjust for a second¡ªbefore giving a small nod.


    ¡°¡­Yeah.¡±


    Davonte did not look convinced.


    But he let go.


    As Soya moved across the room to stand beside Sage, Professor Coorong waved his wand, sending enchanted training dummies into place.


    ¡°Alright, kids. Let¡¯s see what you¡¯ve got!¡±


    Soya exhaled slowly, gripping his wand.


    Sage rolled his shoulders, his expression unreadable.


    This was going to be¡­


    Interesting.


    The classroom was alive with motion, the flickering hum of spells being cast one after another filling the air. Professor Coorong, ever the enthusiastic conductor of chaos, weaved between pairs of students, offering quick corrections and the occasional encouraging whistle whenever someone actually managed a smooth transition between spells.


    Soya stood beside Sage, gripping his wand lightly, his body already naturally poised for spellwork.


    Sage, on the other hand, had his usual stiff posture, his narrowed eyes fixed on the training dummy as if it had personally insulted him.


    Professor Coorong clapped his hands together. ¡°Alright, kids! Chaining spells is about fluidity¡ªyou don¡¯t stop and think between each spell, you just move. Think of it like music! Rhythm! Flow! If you hesitate, you¡¯re done! If you fumble your wand movement, you¡¯ll trip over your own spellwork! So don¡¯t stop, don¡¯t overthink¡ªjust cast.¡±


    Sage¡¯s jaw tightened slightly. ¡°I don¡¯t fumble.¡±


    Soya blinked up at him. ¡°I don¡¯t think he was talking about you specifically.¡±


    Sage just grunted, raising his wand.


    Before Soya could suggest how to actually start, Sage flicked his wand sharply¡ª


    ¡°Expulso!¡±


    A blast of energy shot from his wand, striking the training dummy hard enough to send it skidding backward.


    Before the energy had even dissipated, Sage snapped his wand again¡ª


    ¡°Depulso!¡±


    Another wave of force hit the dummy, sending it crashing into the wall with a heavy thud.


    Soya blinked. ¡°¡­That works, too.¡±


    Sage huffed, lowering his wand. ¡°See? Not hard.¡±


    Soya shifted slightly. ¡°I think the goal was to practice more than just shoving it into a wall.¡±


    Sage frowned. ¡°It¡¯s efficient.¡±


    Soya tilted his head, considering, before carefully repeating Sage¡¯s words back to him, except¡­


    Softer.


    Less aggressive.


    ¡°You mean it¡¯s a simple approach that gets the job done?¡±


    Sage paused. ¡°¡­Yeah.¡±


    Soya gave a small nod, pretending not to notice the way Sage¡¯s expression flickered for a fraction of a second.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Soya said, adjusting his grip on his wand. ¡°Your turn to defend. Let me try.¡±


    Sage crossed his arms but didn¡¯t argue. He stepped aside, gesturing vaguely at the training dummy. ¡°Go ahead.¡±


    Soya hesitated for a split second before raising his wand.


    ¡°Expelliarmus!¡±


    A red bolt flashed forward, striking the dummy. The force dislodged a small wooden rod from its hands, sending it clattering to the floor.


    Before Sage could say anything, Soya quickly snapped his wand into the next motion.


    ¡°Depulso.¡±


    This time, the dummy lurched backward, skidding slightly¡ªbut not with as much force as when Sage had blasted it.


    Soya exhaled, lowering his wand.


    Sage watched him for a moment. ¡°You hesitated between them.¡±


    Soya nodded. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m still getting used to switching fast.¡±


    Sage¡¯s arms remained crossed. ¡°Then you should practice more.¡±


    Soya glanced up at him.


    And, once again¡ª


    He repeated Sage¡¯s words back to him.


    Softer.


    ¡°You mean I should keep working on it so it comes naturally?¡±


    Sage stiffened slightly.


    ¡°¡­Yeah.¡±


    Professor Coorong, who had been casually strolling past, grinned. ¡°Oh, very nice, Vareen! I like how you¡¯re putting your own rhythm into it!¡±


    Sage scowled. ¡°It was slow.¡±


    Soya shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ll get better.¡±


    Sage opened his mouth, ready to argue¡ª


    But something about the way Soya had said it made him pause.


    Because he had said it calmly.


    No frustration. No self-doubt.


    Just a simple statement of fact.


    Soya would get better.


    He was certain of it.


    Sage wasn¡¯t used to that kind of confidence.


    He looked away, gripping his wand a little tighter. ¡°¡­Fine. Let¡¯s try again.¡±


    Soya nodded, stepping back into position.


    Davonte, from across the room, glanced over at them warily, clearly not thrilled about this arrangement.


    But Draven, who had been watching silently, just hummed in quiet amusement.


    Because while Soya was practicing spellwork¡ª


    He was also doing something else.


    Something much harder.


    Teaching Sage how to talk to people.

 Chapter 50: The Boy Who was not a Professor

    Soya sat cross-legged on his bed, parchment balanced carefully across his knees. His sketchbook lay open beside him, covered in dozens of strange runes he''d unknowingly drawn. The dorm room was unusually quiet, with only the sound of scratching quills and the rustling of parchment filling the silence between him and Sage, who sat perched rigidly on the edge of his own bed, scrutinizing Soya¡¯s work with narrowed, critical eyes.


    Soya glanced up briefly at Sage, unsure what to make of the other boy¡¯s thoughtful stare. Sage had offered his assistance, but even now, there was a tension lingering between them that neither seemed entirely sure how to navigate. Sage wasn''t exactly known for kindness, after all, and Soya was still wary, despite his gentle willingness to offer second chances.


    Soya paused, tapping his pen softly against his lip. "I was aiming for this rune here," he said quietly, pointing to a particular symbol from the textbook on runes they''d borrowed from the library. "It''s supposed to represent protection, right?"


    Sage shifted closer, analysing the parchment with narrowed eyes. "You''re doing it wrong," he said bluntly, the familiar sharp edge returning effortlessly to his voice. He jabbed a finger at the page, though there was no cruelty in the gesture this time¡ªonly his characteristic impatience. "The top stroke should be curved to the right, not straight. And these lines¡ª" Sage''s voice trailed off, and his eyes narrowed slightly in confusion.


    "What is it?" Soya asked, shifting uneasily under Sage''s intense scrutiny.


    Sage frowned, tilting his head slightly to better examine the parchment. He reached forward, pulling the page closer and peering down at the symbols as if confirming something he suspected but didn''t quite want to believe. "You did it again," he said abruptly, scowling as if annoyed at himself for not noticing sooner.


    "What?" Soya asked, genuinely confused. "What did I do?"


    Sage exhaled sharply, looking vaguely frustrated as he gestured to the rune. "You started off drawing the basic shield rune correctly, but halfway through, you switched to something entirely different. You''re drawing the ancient variant again. That''s why they feel different¡ªthese aren''t normal runes; they''re older."


    Soya looked at the drawing closely, leaning forward to examine his own work. The rune on the page looked entirely normal to him, familiar even¡ªbut he trusted Sage knew what he was talking about. "I didn''t even realize," he admitted quietly. "It just felt right."


    Sage regarded him for a moment, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. "You''re weird," he remarked bluntly, shaking his head. "Most wizards can''t even draw modern runes properly, let alone ancient ones by accident."


    Despite himself, Soya smiled faintly. Sage''s bluntness felt oddly reassuring¡ªit was more familiar, and perhaps easier to deal with than the gentler version of Sage he''d glimpsed in fleeting moments. "I guess that''s one way to put it," he conceded softly.


    Sage leaned back against the bed frame, crossing his arms. "Do you know what these runes do?" he asked, tone still sharp, though there was genuine curiosity there now.


    Soya shook his head, carefully examining his own drawing as if it might suddenly explain itself. "No idea," he admitted honestly. "I know the basics, but the deeper stuff¡ªI don''t understand at all. It just happens."


    "Ancient runes," Sage murmured thoughtfully, eyes distant as though trying to recall something important. "They''re old, powerful¡ªand complicated. You''re drawing them instinctively without any real instruction. That''s not normal, even for a talented wizard." He paused, meeting Soya''s gaze. "Especially not for a Muggle-born."


    Soya tensed slightly at the mention of his blood status, but Sage¡¯s expression wasn''t cruel¡ªjust blunt and honest, as always. "I know," Soya said softly, fiddling with the edge of his parchment. "I don''t really know why it happens. It''s¡­ frustrating."


    For a moment, Sage seemed uncertain of what to say next. Vulnerability didn''t come naturally to him, and the stiffness returned to his posture as he struggled to articulate his thoughts. "Look, I¡ª" He faltered, jaw tightening before he forced himself to continue. "If you¡¯re going to draw them anyway, you might as well learn to do it right. Properly. Maybe figure out what they actually mean."


    Soya glanced at him, sensing the veiled offer of continued help beneath Sage''s rough words. "Thanks," he said gently, the corners of his mouth lifting into a hesitant smile. "I appreciate that."


    Sage scoffed, quickly looking away as if irritated by his own moment of softness. "Whatever. Just don''t expect me to hold your hand the entire way," he snapped defensively, though the bite wasn''t nearly as sharp as it once might have been.


    Soya couldn''t help the faint smile that formed at the edges of his lips. "Wouldn''t dream of it."


    The room fell quiet again, filled only by the gentle scratch of Soya¡¯s pen as he continued to draw, this time carefully watching each line. Sage observed silently, his curiosity undeniably piqued by the ease and grace with which Soya translated thought into ancient symbols. Neither spoke further, each lost in their own thoughts¡ªbut something had subtly shifted between them. They weren''t friends yet, perhaps not even fully comfortable in each other¡¯s presence. But they weren''t quite enemies, either. Not anymore.


    Seikan stood at the heavy oak desk in his private office, his slender fingers tracing thoughtfully over a parchment covered in complex runic designs of his own making. Around him, the flickering glow from lanterns and floating candles cast subtle, shifting shadows across shelves lined meticulously with ancient texts and delicate glass phials filled with softly glowing potions. The quiet hum of magic filled the room, the protective runes etched upon the walls pulsing gently, attuned to their creator''s quiet contemplation.


    He glanced up sharply as a gentle knock echoed at his door. Without looking away from the parchment, Seikan flicked his wand, and the door swung open silently, admitting Sage, whose steps were hesitant, unsure. The boy moved stiffly, gripping a notebook as if the pages themselves burned his fingertips. He was usually confident, even in Seikan''s presence, yet now something seemed to unsettle him deeply.


    "Father," Sage began cautiously, the familiar sharpness softened into tentative respect. "Can I show you something?"


    Seikan lifted his gaze slowly from his own intricate runes, emerald eyes narrowing slightly as he studied his son''s nervous stance. "Come," he said quietly, gesturing with a subtle flick of his hand toward the seat opposite him. "Show me."


    Sage stepped closer, carefully laying the notebook open on the polished surface of the desk, its pages trembling slightly beneath his fingertips. "It''s Soya," he said quietly, eyes fixed on the pages rather than on his father''s searching gaze. "He¡¯s doing it again. Writing runes¡ªreal ancient runes¡ªnot the kind we''ve been creating."


    Seikan''s expression betrayed nothing, though his eyes sharpened with immediate interest as they swept the pages Sage had presented. A series of runes covered the parchment, their lines graceful, fluid, resonating with an unmistakable authenticity that immediately set them apart from Seikan¡¯s meticulously reconstructed versions. His brows knitted together subtly, the faintest flicker of surprise flashing in the depths of his eyes.


    "You''re certain he drew these?" Seikan asked quietly, his voice steady, carefully masking his intrigue beneath the familiar fa?ade of cool composure.


    Sage nodded, his expression troubled as he crossed his arms defensively. "I watched him do it. He wasn''t even trying¡ªdidn''t even realize he was doing it. One second he was sketching some nonsense, and then these appeared beneath his quill. They''re genuine, aren''t they? Not like your recreations."


    For a long moment, Seikan studied the intricate patterns on the parchment, absorbing each stroke and curve carefully. His own life''s work had been dedicated to reconstructing these very symbols¡ªyet here was a young boy, a Muggle-born no less, effortlessly etching genuine ancient runes onto paper without the slightest understanding of their complexity or meaning.


    "You are correct," Seikan finally murmured, the subtle tension in his voice betraying his astonishment. "These runes... they are authentic. True ancient runes. Not recreations, nor copies."


    "But how is that possible?" Sage pressed, frustration sharpening his tone. "You''ve studied these your entire life. You know more than anyone. Yet even your creations are not truly ancient¡ªthey¡¯re just close approximations. How can Soya¡ªa boy with no magical lineage, no background¡ªdo something even you can''t fully understand?"


    Seikan remained silent for a long moment, his emerald eyes fixed thoughtfully on the parchment. His fingers brushed lightly over the intricate symbols, his mind turning over possibilities he had dismissed for years. This went beyond mere talent or luck; there was something far deeper, far more mysterious at work here. It unsettled him. Seikan had built his career on precision, discipline, and control¡ªyet Soya seemed to shatter every preconceived notion of magical lineage and power he¡¯d held.


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    "Ancient magic doesn''t discriminate by blood," Seikan finally murmured, half to himself, his voice filled with cautious contemplation. "It chooses its vessel by qualities far deeper than ancestry. Whatever allows Soya to channel these runes is innate, something ancient, instinctual¡ªsomething that even he himself is unaware of."


    Sage scowled slightly, dissatisfaction etched clearly on his sharp features. "It''s absurd," he muttered, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. "He''s drawing symbols of power beyond even your grasp, Father. If it''s not his blood, what could it possibly be?"


    Seikan¡¯s gaze flicked up sharply, pinning Sage in place. His voice softened subtly, filled not with anger, but gentle caution. "Beware of arrogance, Sage. Do not underestimate someone simply because their power does not align with your expectations. Magic, especially the ancient kind, defies such simple categorizations. We would be foolish to dismiss Soya¡¯s talent as a fluke or coincidence."


    Sage exhaled, expression faltering as he absorbed his father¡¯s words. He shifted uneasily, the bitter edge fading somewhat, though confusion still lingered heavily in his features. "But still," he murmured quietly, almost as if he couldn¡¯t quite let it go, "he shouldn''t be able to do this."


    Seikan lifted the notebook carefully, examining the runes closely once again, a deep curiosity ignited in his eyes. "Yet he does," he answered calmly. "And rather than question why, perhaps the more important question is how best we can guide him. This talent¡ªunchecked, untrained¡ªis potentially dangerous."


    Sage¡¯s shoulders tightened, his eyes narrowing subtly. He said nothing further, instead simply watching as Seikan placed the notebook carefully back on the desk. Sage¡¯s pride still resisted fully accepting the reality before him, yet curiosity and respect for his father''s wisdom kept him silent.


    "You have done well to bring this to my attention," Seikan finally said, his tone quietly approving. "It seems our young Mr. Vareen is far more intriguing than even I had initially suspected."


    Sage nodded stiffly, uncertain how to respond to the subtle praise. After all, approval from his father came rarely, and he found himself unsettled by the conflicting emotions swirling within him. He had sought Seikan''s approval, but now that he had it, the implications felt heavier than he''d expected.


    Without another word, Sage quietly took back the notebook, his eyes thoughtful and somewhat troubled as he turned away. As he exited the office, Seikan watched him go, his expression unreadable¡ªbut within, he felt the first spark of genuine fascination.


    Soya was different¡ªunexplainably so.


    And now Seikan understood precisely why someone like Salsiar had taken such a keen interest in him.


    Sage returned quietly to the Thylacea common room, still clutching Soya''s notebook as if it might somehow vanish from his grasp if he relaxed his grip. The common room was bathed in the golden warmth of the afternoon sun filtering gently through wide windows, creating lazy patterns across the polished wooden floors and plush, comfortable chairs. Near the crackling fireplace, Soya sat with Davonte and Draven, engaged in quiet, friendly chatter punctuated by occasional laughter. Davonte''s ferret darted energetically around Inkwell, Soya¡¯s kitten, the two creatures playfully chasing one another, oblivious to their amused audience.


    Sage hesitated at the threshold, his presence still uncertain and somewhat intrusive amidst this casual camaraderie. He was unused to being a part of something relaxed, friendly¡ªwarm. His approach was noticed almost immediately, Davonte''s silver eyes narrowing suspiciously as they caught sight of the notebook clasped tightly in Sage¡¯s hand.


    "Oi," Davonte said sharply, straightening in his seat and nodding pointedly toward the notebook. "Why do you have Soya''s sketchbook?"


    The light-hearted atmosphere of the group seemed to falter momentarily, tension flickering briefly through the air. Sage stiffened instinctively, a familiar defensiveness rising in him, ready to meet hostility with his usual cold disdain. Yet before he could respond, Soya intervened gently, placing a calming hand lightly on Davonte''s arm.


    "It''s alright, Davonte," Soya reassured softly, offering his friend a patient smile. "I gave it to Sage earlier. He''s helping me with some of the rune stuff."


    Davonte blinked, his expression shifting quickly from hostility to surprise, clearly not expecting such an answer. He glanced between the two boys with uncertainty, clearly torn between protective suspicion and trust in his friend''s judgment. Finally, he gave a quiet, somewhat reluctant sigh, sinking back into his chair with an expression that suggested lingering skepticism but an acceptance of Soya¡¯s wishes. "Fine," he grumbled quietly, glancing warily at Sage. "But I''m watching."


    Sage didn¡¯t respond immediately, simply moving forward to hand the notebook carefully back to Soya. "Thanks," Sage said stiffly, not quite making eye contact as he placed it into Soya''s outstretched hand.


    Soya offered a grateful nod, sensing the lingering awkwardness and doing his best to ease it with a gentle smile. "Thank you," he replied sincerely, carefully setting the notebook on the table beside him. "It really helped."


    Sage nodded curtly again, retreating quickly to an empty chair nearby, his discomfort clear despite his carefully maintained composure. His attention shifted, drawn away from the boys to the playful antics unfolding near their feet. Inkwell pounced playfully at Davonte''s ferret, the two animals rolling around, batting gently at each other, a blur of fur and cheerful squeaks.


    He watched the creatures closely, expression softening unintentionally, betraying the gentler curiosity beneath his normally cold exterior. He''d never been allowed a familiar¡ªSeikan always viewed such companions as distractions from true mastery of magic¡ªbut now, seeing the effortless companionship and affection these two animals displayed, Sage felt an unfamiliar pang of longing tug quietly at his chest.


    Almost without thinking, he murmured softly, "A kitten would be nice¡­"


    Draven, who rarely missed even the smallest comment, tilted his head curiously toward Sage. "What was that?" he asked calmly, his voice polite yet clearly intrigued by Sage''s quiet admission.


    Sage immediately straightened, expression tightening defensively as embarrassment crept across his features. "Nothing," he snapped quickly, eyes quickly darting away from Draven''s inquisitive gaze. "Forget it."


    Davonte smirked, clearly amused by Sage¡¯s discomfort. "Really? Didn''t peg you for a cat person, Blackthorn."


    Soya quickly stepped in once again, sensing Sage''s embarrassment and trying gently to defuse it. "Well, kittens are nice," he said softly, his eyes gentle, understanding clear in his tone. "They''re comforting, and they always seem to know when something''s bothering you."


    Sage glanced sharply at Soya, expression briefly vulnerable before it quickly hardened again, a familiar defensive mask sliding smoothly into place. He didn''t respond, merely turning away, though he couldn''t quite hide the faint flush of embarrassment at being so clearly exposed.


    An awkward yet strangely companionable silence settled over the group for a moment, broken only by the quiet, playful sounds of Inkwell and the ferret at their feet. Sage found himself unable to look away completely, his eyes continuing to track the playful dance of the creatures, secretly enjoying their innocence and joy.


    Soya glanced sideways at Sage, seeing the lingering softness in his normally harsh gaze. He didn''t say anything further, knowing better than to push, but the faint, hopeful smile tugging at his lips spoke volumes. Perhaps there was more to Sage Blackthorn than anyone, including Sage himself, realized. And perhaps, just perhaps, there was still hope yet for a boy so accustomed to cruelty.


    After all, even the smallest of creatures could soften the hardest hearts.


    After a thoughtful pause, Soya gently cleared his throat and turned toward Davonte and Draven. "Hey, I just remembered¡ªI need both of your help preparing for class tomorrow," he said, keeping his voice as casual and natural as possible, though a faint hint of mischief flickered briefly behind his gentle eyes.


    Davonte raised an eyebrow skeptically, clearly suspecting Soya was up to something, but he didn''t challenge him immediately. Instead, he exchanged a glance with Draven, who merely shrugged slightly, indifferent as ever. "Sure thing," Draven said simply, rising to his feet with calm, methodical precision. "Where to?"


    Davonte stood more reluctantly, still eyeing Soya with mild suspicion. "Are you sure, mate? You usually handle that stuff just fine on your own."


    Soya nodded quickly, carefully scooping up Inkwell from the floor, earning a quiet meow of surprise from the small calico kitten. Without hesitation, he turned to Sage, who was still sitting stiffly nearby, watching the sudden flurry of activity with thinly veiled confusion. Before Sage could fully grasp what was happening, Soya placed Inkwell gently into his lap.


    "Could you watch Inkwell for a bit?" Soya asked softly, smiling warmly. "It shouldn''t take long. He doesn''t really like being alone."


    Sage''s eyes widened momentarily in surprise, quickly masked by his usual defensive expression. He stared down at the kitten now perched comfortably in his lap, frozen by the unexpected weight and warmth. "Wait¡ªwhat¡ª" he began, flustered, clearly unprepared for the sudden responsibility placed upon him.


    Davonte immediately looked wary, stepping forward protectively. "Soya, you sure about this? I mean, this is Sage we''re talking about."


    Soya merely shook his head gently, placing a reassuring hand briefly on Davonte''s arm. "I trust him," he replied quietly, meeting Sage''s uncertain gaze with quiet sincerity. "He won¡¯t hurt Inkwell."


    Davonte sighed reluctantly, glancing at Sage once more, clearly displeased. But he respected Soya enough not to push further. "Alright," he muttered grudgingly, turning toward the dormitory stairs. "Let''s hurry up, though. The sooner we finish, the better."


    Draven followed Davonte without comment, seemingly unbothered by the arrangement. Soya lingered for a brief moment, offering Sage one last gentle, reassuring smile before hurrying off after his friends, leaving Sage alone, bewildered and entirely unsure what to do with himself¡ªor the small, purring creature now curled comfortably in his lap.


    Sage glanced down at Inkwell, meeting the kitten¡¯s curious, luminous eyes with hesitation. "Don''t look at me like that," he muttered defensively, though there was no real bite behind his words, just uncertainty and embarrassment. "This was your owner''s idea, not mine."


    The kitten purred softly, gently kneading Sage¡¯s robes with tiny, rhythmic paws. Something about the innocent affection of the small animal softened the edge Sage so carefully maintained. Almost despite himself, he tentatively brushed his fingers lightly against the kitten''s silky fur, startled by the gentle rumble of approval that greeted his cautious touch.


    Feeling oddly vulnerable, Sage glanced around quickly to ensure no one else was observing him in this moment of tenderness. Once confident he was alone, he allowed his guard to lower slightly, relaxing subtly into the chair as he stroked the small creature nestled contentedly against him.


    "I don''t know why he trusts me," Sage murmured quietly, more to himself than the kitten, "but I''m glad someone does."


    Inkwell blinked sleepily, a soft, comforting warmth radiating from his small frame. Sage felt a tiny, tentative smile tug at the corner of his lips, his usual cold composure melting away ever so slightly. He still didn¡¯t fully understand why Soya had chosen to trust him, or why the boy had reached out despite Sage¡¯s previous hostility. But for now, with the gentle weight of the kitten curled against him, Sage decided not to question it.


    He just allowed himself simply to enjoy the peaceful moment and the quiet companionship he''d secretly longed for all along.

 Chapter 51: Lines are Drawn

    The Great Hall bustled with eager chatter and laughter, the morning sunlight streaming through the tall stained-glass windows, casting brilliant patterns of colored light over the students gathered at their tables. Breakfast was momentarily forgotten, conversations fading to expectant whispers, as Boromus Spellchecker rose gracefully from his seat at the staff table and stepped calmly forward, holding up a hand to quieten the hall. His deep eyes sparkled with amusement, as if he found the bustling excitement as delightful as the students themselves.


    "Good morning, students," Boromus began, his rich voice warm and comforting as it echoed gently across the Great Hall. "As I''m sure many of you have realized, the school year draws swiftly toward its end, and with that comes the usual flurry of excitement and activity. We''ve had an eventful year, more so than usual." His eyes twinkled mischievously at this, hinting at the understatement, and several students chuckled knowingly, memories of recent chaos fresh in their minds.


    "However," he continued, adjusting his robes with an exaggerated flourish, "we will not let recent events dampen our spirits! In fact, it is my pleasure to announce a rather unusual addition to our usual end-of-year celebrations, an idea kindly suggested to me by our very own Davonte Evander." At the mention of Davonte¡¯s name, several eyes turned curiously toward the Thylacea table, where Davonte leaned back proudly, arms crossed, clearly savoring the attention, despite the lighthearted smirks his friends wore at his antics.


    Boromus''s eyes twinkled even brighter as he continued, clearly entertained by the idea himself. "We will be hosting Austramore¡¯s first-ever Cosplay Day! Yes, I know," he added, chuckling gently, "it''s new to me as well. The idea is for you all¡ªand indeed, your professors¡ª¡± seated beside him Seikan Blackthorn stiffened. ¡°to dress as your favorite fictional or historical characters. It promises to be quite the enjoyable spectacle, I suspect."


    Whispers and excited laughter filled the room, students already beginning to enthusiastically discuss potential costumes, each more ambitious and creative than the last. Boromus held up a hand, waiting patiently as the noise faded.


    "Of course, Cosplay Day will take place on a regular class day, ensuring our usual academic rigor remains undisturbed, though admittedly somewhat more colorfully attired. Your professors have assured me they too will participate,¡± Seikan¡¯s emerald eyes flicked to Boromus, a promise of something close to murder flashing across his face, ¡°so I recommend taking full advantage of this rare opportunity to see Professor Coorong as someone other than himself," Boromus said, with a teasing glance toward the Charms professor who sat with a wide, mischievous grin. The students erupted into laughter at the playful jab, Professor Coorong grinning back cheerfully as he mimed removing an imaginary hat and bowing dramatically in acknowledgment.


    As the laughter subsided, Boromus''s expression turned gentle once more. "This event will take place just before we break for the holidays, and it is my sincere hope that it brings joy and a sense of unity to our halls. Remember, while the year has been challenging for many, we have much to celebrate. Your creativity and enthusiasm are what makes Austramore truly magical."


    With a soft smile and a final wave of his hand, Boromus returned to his seat, and the hall immediately burst into excited conversations as students began eagerly planning costumes and speculating about what their professors might wear.


    At the Thylacea table, Soya sat quietly amused, a faint smile on his lips as Davonte beamed proudly at the recognition. "See, told you he''d love the idea," Davonte said confidently, turning to Draven, who merely rolled his eyes in gentle amusement.


    Nearby, Tiana Loreman sat thoughtfully, fingers absently tracing patterns along the polished tabletop as she seemed lost in thought. After a moment, she turned quietly to Soya, who was busy feeding Inkwell small pieces of bacon from his plate.


    "Soya," she began quietly, her voice steady but carrying a note of uncertainty, "I wanted to ask you something."


    He looked up curiously, noticing the seriousness hidden beneath her carefully maintained composure. "Of course, what''s up?"


    Tiana hesitated slightly, her eyes shifting briefly before returning resolutely to Soya''s. "I was wondering¡ªsince holidays are nearly here¡ªif you''d mind if I spent them with you and your family. I don¡¯t really have a place to go, and¡­" She paused again, seeming unusually vulnerable for the normally poised girl. "I thought maybe it would be nice to see the Muggle world for myself."


    Davonte, Draven, and Kalsei watched curiously, remaining quiet but attentive as they awaited Soya''s response. Davonte especially seemed intrigued, his silver eyes wide with curiosity.


    Soya smiled warmly, sensing a hidden weight behind her casual request, but didn¡¯t push it. "Of course, Tiana," he said gently, his voice quiet but firm. "My family would be more than happy to have you. And if you really want to see the Muggle world, I can promise it''ll be an adventure."


    Tiana visibly relaxed, a faint smile flickering across her usually reserved face. "Thank you," she replied quietly, genuine relief clear in her eyes.


    "Hey, don''t leave me out," Davonte suddenly interjected, leaning forward eagerly. "If you two are planning adventures in the Muggle world, I''m definitely coming. I''ve always wanted to see a tellybox thing!"


    Draven sighed dramatically beside them. "It''s just called a television, Davonte."


    Kalsei giggled softly, nudging Davonte playfully. "Careful, you might actually learn something."


    Their laughter rippled down the table, filling the air with warmth and camaraderie. Nearby, Sage watched silently, his dark eyes fixed thoughtfully on the group, quietly absorbing the unfamiliar but comforting sense of belonging that seemed to radiate from them all.


    Unseen by the others, Boromus Spellchecker sat at the professor¡¯s table, observing the interactions with quiet satisfaction. His eyes lingered thoughtfully on the small group, noting particularly the calm, genuine warmth Soya radiated even amid all the uncertainty he faced. A quiet smile played across the headmaster¡¯s lips as he leaned back slightly in his chair.


    It seemed Austramore was changing¡ªperhaps for the better¡ªand he couldn''t help but feel pleased by it.


    Davonte leaned back, his expression lighting up as the chatter around the table slowly faded into comfortable background noise. "Alright," he announced eagerly, rubbing his hands together as his eyes gleamed with anticipation. "If we''re going to pull off this cosplay thing properly, we''ll need costumes. And I know just the place¡ªFernwick has that quirky little costume shop, right?"


    Tiana raised an elegant eyebrow at Davonte¡¯s enthusiasm, though the faint smile tugging at her lips softened her skeptical expression. "You mean Madame Marigold¡¯s Masquerades? I''ve passed by a few times but never actually gone inside."


    Davonte¡¯s grin widened, his voice gaining excitement. "That''s the one! I''ve heard from older students it''s full of all kinds of strange outfits and magical accessories. Perfect for whatever this ''cosplay'' thing is."


    Kalsei giggled, leaning closer with sparkling eyes. "Sounds fun! I bet they even have cat ears!"


    Draven adjusted his glasses with methodical precision, his expression thoughtful. "It sounds entertaining enough. I suppose acquiring proper costumes will enhance the overall enjoyment of the event, provided, of course, we don''t end up looking utterly ridiculous."


    Davonte flashed him a playful grin, patting Draven lightly on the shoulder. "Oh, we''ll absolutely look ridiculous, and it''ll be brilliant. Besides, you¡¯ll probably pick the weirdest, most obscure character anyway."


    Draven gave an amused, indifferent shrug, conceding the point without protest. Davonte turned his attention toward Soya, who was quietly sketching something into his notebook, though clearly paying close attention to their conversation.


    "What about you, Soya?" Davonte asked warmly. "You in?"


    Soya glanced up with a gentle smile. "Definitely. Sounds like fun." His eyes shifted subtly past Davonte, resting briefly on Sage, who sat quietly at the far end of the Thylacea table, apparently immersed in his own thoughts but clearly eavesdropping. Soya hesitated briefly, a thoughtful look crossing his face before turning back to Davonte. "Mind if Sage comes along too?"


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Davonte blinked, momentarily startled out of his excitement, his expression shifting from surprised to faintly displeased. He lowered his voice, leaning closer to Soya so their conversation remained private. "Really? You want him along? After everything?"


    Soya met Davonte''s skeptical gaze with calm determination, speaking softly but firmly. "Davonte, has Sage done anything cruel lately?" He paused, giving his friend a moment to consider his words before gently adding, "People can change. You know that."


    Davonte sighed heavily, clearly torn between his protective instincts and his trust in Soya¡¯s judgment. Finally, he gave a reluctant nod, murmuring quietly, "Fine. But if he tries anything¡ª"


    "He won''t," Soya interrupted softly, confidence clear in his gentle voice. "Trust me."


    With a resigned glance, Davonte nodded again, still uncertain but willing to trust his friend''s instincts. Soya turned, gently calling out to Sage, who immediately stiffened, startled to have been noticed at all.


    "Sage," Soya said gently, offering a reassuring smile. "We''re going to Fernwick tomorrow to find costumes for Cosplay Day. Want to come with us?"


    Sage hesitated, clearly caught off-guard by the invitation, his initial defensive impulse fading quickly beneath the sincerity in Soya''s eyes. After a tense pause, he finally nodded stiffly, a faint flush coloring his pale features. "Sure," he mumbled quietly, trying to sound indifferent despite the awkward gratitude lurking beneath his careful tone. "I''ll come."


    Davonte rolled his eyes slightly, though he kept any further comments to himself, instead focusing his attention back on planning their upcoming trip. Kalsei clapped excitedly, already dreaming aloud about the cat ears and outfits he hoped to find, while Tiana and Draven began discussing potential characters from wizard literature, exchanging calm but enthusiastic suggestions.


    Soya glanced toward Sage once more, who was now staring down at the table thoughtfully, clearly unsure what he''d just agreed to. Yet beneath his guarded expression was something softer, something Soya had rarely seen from Sage¡ªgratitude. Sage may never admit it aloud, but Soya sensed, deep down, the invitation had meant more than he could express.


    Soya turned back toward Davonte, quietly relieved and hopeful. Perhaps tomorrow¡¯s trip to Fernwick would not just be a chance to find costumes, but a step toward healing for someone who needed it more than anyone realized.


    Across the Great Hall, sitting rigidly at the Yarramundi table, Sevrin stared darkly at the opposite side of the room. His sharp green eyes were fixated on Sage, now seated comfortably among the Thylacea students¡ªfitting in, relaxed, included. It felt unnatural seeing his once closest friend, someone he''d trusted implicitly, now willingly mingling with the very group they had once mocked together.


    Sevrin''s jaw tightened, fingers curling into tense fists beneath the polished table as his anger flared silently. He could still hear Sage''s furious voice echoing in his mind, the sting of rejection still fresh, a wound refusing to heal. Sage¡¯s words¡ªthat he wanted nothing to do with Sevrin anymore¡ªechoed relentlessly, each repetition burning like a fresh insult, a bitter reminder of his own mistakes.


    But worse than that, far worse, was seeing Sage with Soya Vareen.


    Just the sight of Soya''s gentle, unassuming smile made Sevrin''s blood boil. How could everyone fail to see what was obvious? Vareen was nothing more than a freakish anomaly¡ªa Muggle-born contaminant, an aberration in a school steeped in magical purity. Yet Sage, his former ally, was sitting there willingly, even gratefully, accepting Soya¡¯s company.


    Sevrin''s teeth ground together, bitterness surging violently within him. He despised Soya¡ªnot merely for existing, but because he had somehow stolen everything Sevrin once held dear. First, Sage¡¯s friendship, then his sister¡¯s respect. Even Lykaios, normally as cold and indifferent as he himself, had snapped at him for daring to speak against Soya. And Salsiar¡ªthe powerful, ancient entity Sevrin had foolishly served¡ªhad even suggested the unthinkable: that Vareen, this insignificant Muggle-born boy, was somehow stronger, superior.


    He despised that notion more than anything. The very idea that Soya could be special, powerful, or meaningful in any way repulsed Sevrin to his core. No matter how effortlessly the boy seemed to charm others¡ªprofessors and students alike¡ªSevrin refused to accept it. He saw only weakness in those bright eyes and gentle smiles, only inferiority hiding behind an undeserved air of quiet strength.


    Yet, despite his stubborn denials, the evidence sat blatantly before him. Sage, once his closest ally, lowering his guard, looking flustered at something Soya said. Sage never lowered his guard, he never got flustered, not openly, not genuinely. Not with him. The ease Sage displayed, seated among those he¡¯d once mocked alongside Sevrin, felt like a slap in the face.


    Jealousy twisted cruelly in Sevrin¡¯s chest. Vareen didn''t deserve any of this¡ªthis admiration, this acceptance. He certainly didn''t deserve Sage''s loyalty. Sevrin felt robbed, betrayed, isolated.


    "You won''t have anything to do with me anymore," Sage''s words whispered harshly through Sevrin''s thoughts, tearing deeper with every repetition. How could Sage discard years of friendship for a Muggle-born nobody?


    Sevrin''s fists clenched harder, nails biting sharply into his palms. Anger mingled dangerously with shame. He remembered the weight of his wand, remembered clearly how easily he''d raised it, how willingly he''d obeyed Salsiar''s orders to harm his closest friend. But beneath that regret lurked resentment, a raw bitterness he wasn''t ready to confront fully¡ªresentment directed squarely at the boy who''d disrupted everything.


    In his mind, Sevrin silently promised himself something dark, something inevitable. He wouldn''t let this go. He wouldn''t stand by and watch as Soya took everything from him, piece by piece. Sage would regret abandoning him for that insignificant boy. Everyone who chose Vareen¡¯s side would regret their blind faith.


    As Sevrin forced himself to look away, seething silently in the shadows, one truth rang clear in his mind:


    He wouldn''t rest until everyone saw Soya Vareen for exactly what he truly was¡ªa powerless, undeserving freak who belonged nowhere near Austramore.


    Breakfast ended and the great hall cleared as students left for the library, the courtyard, their common rooms.


    The dormitory was silent, save for the soft scratching of quill against parchment. Soya sat cross-legged on his bed, his sketchbook propped up against his knees, the dim glow of his bedside lantern casting long shadows across the page. Since his talk with Seikan, he''d found himself drawn more and more often into solitude, compelled to explore the mystery that surrounded him¡ªthis magic he had been unknowingly wielding. He still didn''t truly understand what it was or how it worked, but at least now he had a name for it: Ink Magic.


    Soya carefully dipped his quill back into the small vial of ink beside him, watching the dark liquid drip slowly from the tip before guiding it gently across the blank page. His hand moved almost instinctively, tracing delicate, winding shapes without fully knowing what they would become. Gradually, the vague outlines formed into the familiar shape of a small bird, each line detailed and elegant as if guided by something deep within him.


    He paused, taking a slow breath as he considered the drawing he''d created. It was simple enough¡ªa bird perched lightly on a branch, poised to take flight. Yet there was something strange about it, something different. Before he could understand why, the ink lines suddenly began to shiver and ripple gently across the page. His eyes widened, watching with quiet awe as the bird¡¯s sketched wings slowly unfurled, stretching gracefully outward with a life all their own.


    Soya felt his heart race, excitement battling confusion. He had seen this before¡ªthe spontaneous movement of his drawings, the way they shifted and danced without his intention¡ªbut this time, he could feel something deeper. He sensed a connection, as though the ink wasn''t simply moving on its own, but responding to him. Tentatively, he spoke in a soft whisper, almost afraid to disturb the fragile moment. "Stay still."


    The bird paused instantly, the ink settling as if frozen mid-motion. A surge of hope filled him, a tentative confidence beginning to form. He was controlling it¡ªtruly controlling it for the first time, not simply watching helplessly as the magic acted on its own. Carefully, he reached out again, whispering gently as though soothing a skittish animal. "Spread your wings slowly."


    Immediately, the bird obeyed. The sketched wings extended with deliberate, careful movements, the ink shimmering softly as they stretched wide. Soya''s pulse quickened in excitement. It was working. He drew in a deep breath, exhilarated by the realization that he wasn''t just at the mercy of his mysterious magic¡ªhe was beginning to master it.


    But as that thought crossed his mind, something unexpected occurred. The ink lines trembled again, this time violently, twisting and bending unnaturally as the image distorted. What had moments ago been a delicate drawing suddenly darkened, thickening into something else¡ªsomething jagged and frightening. The once gentle bird transformed, its form stretching grotesquely as feathers sharpened into dagger-like edges, eyes darkening into hollow, sinister voids. Panic flashed through Soya, his heart leaping painfully in his chest.


    "No," he breathed out shakily, desperately trying to regain control. "Stop¡ªstop!"


    But the ink did not listen, twisting further into a monstrous shape, as though feeding off his anxiety. Taking a deep breath, Soya forced himself to calm down, clenching his hand tightly around the quill as he gathered his willpower. With a sudden decisive stroke, he slashed a determined line through the distorted image, severing the twisted form. The ink responded instantly, collapsing inward as if deflating, retreating to its original sketched form. In mere seconds, it was just a harmless drawing once more, nothing more than lifeless lines of ink on parchment.


    He stared down at the page, heart still hammering, breath ragged. Sweat had formed along his brow, but he barely noticed. Frustration tightened in his chest, mingled with lingering excitement. He had almost had it¡ªalmost managed to control his magic. But it had slipped away just as swiftly, replaced by something dark and uncontrollable.


    Soya sighed deeply, leaning back against his pillows. His thoughts raced, replaying the moment again and again in his mind. He had glimpsed control, however brief, and that gave him hope. He wasn''t helpless, wasn''t completely at the mercy of this strange power that lived within him. But clearly, there was still so much he didn''t understand¡ªso much more he needed to learn.


    He flexed his fingers, gripping and releasing the quill, letting the tension slowly ease from his hands. As frightening as the experience had been, he couldn''t deny the growing spark of excitement and curiosity beneath his fear. It was a start¡ªa tentative, uncertain first step¡ªbut a start nonetheless. He glanced out the window at the darkening sky beyond, a thoughtful expression settling over his face. If he could control this magic, if he could truly master it¡­ maybe, he could finally understand who he was meant to become.

 Chapter 52: Costumes

    The early morning sun bathed the town of Fernwick in soft, golden warmth, illuminating the bustling streets filled with students and magical townsfolk eager to start their day. Soya, Draven, Tiana, Kalsei, Davonte, and Sage made their way along the cobbled pathway winding into the heart of the quaint wizarding village, their footsteps mingling with cheerful chatter from other students who had come to enjoy the weekend away from Austramore''s stone walls. Fernwick bustled with life, its vibrant shops beckoning with brightly decorated windows, showcasing everything from enchanted sweets to curious artifacts that whispered of forgotten magics.


    Davonte led the group enthusiastically, practically bounding with excitement. He had been looking forward to this outing for days, captivated by the idea of the upcoming cosplay event¡ªa concept he¡¯d thoroughly misunderstood but was nonetheless deeply enamored with. ¡°Right, first stop has to be costumes,¡± Davonte declared energetically, his silver eyes sparkling with anticipation. ¡°We gotta look our best if we¡¯re gonna win any prizes!¡±


    "Are there prizes?" Draven asked dryly, glancing skeptically at his friend. "Or did you just assume that?"


    Davonte flashed a mischievous grin. "There''s gotta be prizes, right? Otherwise, what''s the point of dressing up like a bunch of book characters?"


    Soya smiled faintly, pulling his sketchbook closer against his chest as they walked. Despite the vibrant cheerfulness around him, he couldn''t fully shake the lingering anxiety that still clung from recent events¡ªyet his friends'' enthusiasm helped ease it, at least somewhat. Beside him, Tiana moved gracefully, her steel-blue hair catching the sunlight in delicate ripples as she shook her head with amusement.


    "Considering how excited you are, Davonte," she said gently, "I¡¯d bet you already have something outrageous in mind."


    Davonte shrugged nonchalantly, though his grin betrayed his excitement. "Maybe something heroic. A legendary wizard, a dragon tamer, something with style."


    Soya laughed softly. ¡°Let me guess¡ªsomeone tall, imposing, and powerful?¡±


    Davonte threw an exaggeratedly wounded look toward Soya. ¡°Exactly. Finally, someone who understands me.¡±


    Kalsei giggled, his amusement deepened. "Davonte, please don''t pick something you can barely walk in. I''d rather not have to rescue you again."


    Davonte dramatically clutched his chest, feigning offense. "I''ll have you know, I''m always graceful."


    Draven¡¯s mouth twitched into a faint smirk. "The shattered vases in Professor Wickham''s classroom suggest otherwise."


    Davonte opened his mouth to protest, but Sage, lingering quietly near the back of the group, spoke first, interrupting him with an unexpected softness to his usually cool voice. "What exactly do we wear for something like this? Do people really just¡­dress up as other wizards?¡±


    His tone was uncertain, almost guarded, as if wary of showing too much interest in something so trivial, yet clearly intrigued. Soya cast him a gentle glance, understanding Sage¡¯s discomfort. After all, the very concept of dressing up for fun likely felt foreign to someone so serious and tightly wound.


    "Well," Soya began carefully, offering Sage a warm, reassuring smile, "cosplay isn''t exactly traditional here. But Davonte mentioned the idea to Boromus, and I suppose he loved it enough to go ahead and arrange it anyway. Usually, people dress up as characters from stories¡ªheroes, villains, historical figures¡ªanyone you admire or find interesting."


    Davonte added proudly, puffing out his chest a little. "Yeah, I heard about it from Soya, apparently it''s big in the Muggle world. Although," he admitted sheepishly, rubbing his neck, "I might''ve misunderstood a little bit about what exactly counts as ''wizarding literature,'' but whatever. It''ll still be awesome."


    Tiana shook her head again, hiding a smile. "That explains a lot."


    Kalsei tilted his head thoughtfully. "Well, if it¡¯s based on literature, I think I''ll go as someone famous. Maybe The Great Akihiro? I''ve always loved stories about him."


    Draven tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced towards Kalsei. "Isn''t he famous for accidentally setting fire to an entire library?"


    "Yeah," Kalsei replied cheerfully. "But it was an accident, and he apologized right afterward!"


    Davonte raised an eyebrow skeptically. "I''m not sure that''s the takeaway from that story."


    Soya chuckled softly, feeling tension ease from his shoulders as he watched his friends discuss their costume ideas. He noticed Sage quietly observing the conversation, clearly uncertain of his own place within this friendly banter. Despite everything Sage had done before, Soya couldn''t help but feel an odd pang of sympathy for the other boy, who now seemed distinctly lost amid their easy camaraderie.


    "What about you, Sage?" Tiana asked kindly, her eyes softening slightly. "Have you thought about who you might dress as?"


    Sage''s expression flickered briefly with uncertainty, and he hesitated for a moment before responding with a carefully composed mask of indifference. "I don''t know yet," he admitted stiffly. "I haven''t really thought about it."


    "Then maybe you can just browse around today," Soya suggested quietly, his voice gentle but encouraging. "There''s no rush¡ªsometimes inspiration just finds you when you''re not expecting it."


    Sage looked away quickly, almost embarrassed by the kindness directed his way, and muttered something vaguely affirmative. Soya didn''t push him further, sensing Sage¡¯s discomfort with kindness¡ªbut he hoped his words had helped at least a little.


    The group eventually arrived at the first shop¡ªan eccentric little establishment named Madame Marigold¡¯s Masquerades. It was brightly painted in hues of emerald green and gold, its large windows overflowing with flamboyant costumes, shimmering cloaks, and an assortment of curious hats. Davonte eagerly charged ahead, tugging open the door with an excited grin.


    "Alright, everyone! Let''s find something amazing!" he declared, his voice filled with boundless enthusiasm. Kalsei laughed warmly, linking arms with Tiana and tugging her inside as Draven calmly shook his head and followed along behind. Tiana cast a quiet glance towards Soya, who smiled shyly back before stepping into the bustling shop.


    As they stepped inside, the welcoming chime of a small enchanted bell echoed pleasantly around them, and the delightful scent of fresh fabric and faint magic tickled their senses. The group quickly dispersed, weaving through the shelves and racks filled with wondrous costumes.


    Soya paused briefly in the doorway, watching as his friends explored eagerly. He noticed Sage lingering behind, clearly uncomfortable but also quietly curious. Turning slightly towards him, Soya offered a small, reassuring smile. "Come on. Let''s find something good."


    Sage hesitated only a moment longer, then nodded and quietly followed him into the shop.


    Neither boy spoke more as they began to browse, each searching through the endless selection in thoughtful silence. Yet somehow, the silence between them felt less strained now, softer even, and maybe¡ªfor the first time¡ªa bit hopeful.


    Tiana moved gracefully through the crowded racks of colorful cloaks, intricate robes, and glittering accessories toward the shop counter, where the boutique''s owner stood sorting a stack of feathered hats. The woman was striking, with silvery hair pulled back in a neat bun and glasses perched on the bridge of her slender nose. She looked up as Tiana approached, her expression brightening with warmth and curiosity.


    "Excuse me," Tiana began politely, her voice steady and clear despite her hesitation. "I don''t mean to intrude, but I can''t help noticing that your shop seems¡­ unusually well-stocked with costumes. From what I know, costumes aren''t particularly popular here in Fernwick."


    The shopkeeper smiled kindly, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she set down the feathered hats and clasped her hands together atop the counter. "You''re quite right, young lady," she replied cheerfully, her voice carrying the gentle authority of someone accustomed to addressing curious customers. "Costumes haven''t exactly been flying off the shelves in previous years. But recently, Headmaster Spellchecker personally sent a charmingly vague message to all shopkeepers in Fernwick, informing us that there would be a rather unusual event¡ªa ''cosplay day,'' if I recall correctly¡ªtaking place at Austramore."


    Tiana raised an eyebrow slightly, amused by Boromus Spellchecker''s casual eccentricity. "Charming but vague," she repeated softly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "That does sound rather like him."


    "Oh yes," the woman laughed warmly. "I must admit, we were all a bit confused at first. Cosplay? We had no idea what that meant. But the headmaster suggested that costumes based on famous wizarding literature, legends, and history would be greatly appreciated by students and professors alike. I daresay every shop in Fernwick has been racing to assemble a suitable inventory."


    Tiana''s gaze drifted thoughtfully across the shop, taking in the wide array of garments filling every corner of the boutique. "It''s impressive how quickly you all managed to get everything prepared," she noted appreciatively.


    The shopkeeper beamed proudly, adjusting her glasses as she nodded. "Fernwick takes pride in meeting the needs of Austramore students. After all, without you young witches and wizards, this town would scarcely have its delightful charm."


    As Tiana continued her pleasant conversation at the counter, across the boutique, Kalsei was dragging Sage toward a corner overflowing with a vibrant assortment of whimsical costumes. Soya, standing nearby, watched nervously, unsure whether to intervene or simply let Kalsei unleash his unique enthusiasm on the wary Sage.


    "You know," Kalsei announced cheerfully, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he studied Sage thoughtfully, "I''ve got just the perfect costume in mind for you."


    Sage, whose expression had immediately darkened with suspicion, crossed his arms defensively. "I haven''t asked for your help, Detra," he muttered, but the usual venom in his tone was noticeably dulled, softened perhaps by uncertainty or resignation.


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    "That''s what makes me such a good friend," Kalsei responded brightly, completely unfazed by Sage''s cold demeanor. "You didn''t have to ask¡ªI just knew you''d need help."


    Before Sage could object again, Kalsei swiftly selected several items from the shelves, draping fabrics over his arms with an almost gleeful determination. Sage stood stiffly in place, clearly unsure how to handle the overwhelming force of cheerful enthusiasm that was Kalsei.


    Nearby, Soya watched carefully, partly worried for Sage¡¯s dignity but mostly intrigued to see what his friend had in mind. "Kalsei," Soya began gently, stepping forward to intervene just slightly, "maybe we should let Sage decide for himself?"


    Kalsei waved him off confidently. "Trust me, Soya," he laughed easily, eyes twinkling. "Sage needs someone to push him out of his comfort zone."


    Sage scowled, though his cheeks flushed faintly in embarrassment. "My comfort zone is just fine, thank you very much."


    "No, it¡¯s not," Kalsei grinned impishly. Without giving Sage another chance to resist, he thrust a set of fluffy cat ears onto the dark-haired boy¡¯s head, arranging them meticulously before stepping back to admire his work. Sage stood rigidly, glaring with icy disdain at his reflection in the mirror, though his fierce expression was comically undermined by the soft, twitching cat ears perched atop his head.


    "There," Kalsei announced triumphantly, clasping his hands together with delight. "Purrfect!"


    Davonte, who had wandered over during the exchange, snorted loudly, doubling over with laughter. "Detra, you''re a genius," he wheezed between chuckles. "I never knew how badly I needed to see Blackthorn as a kitten."


    "Shut it, Evander," Sage hissed, eyes narrowing dangerously.


    Davonte merely laughed harder, clapping Kalsei approvingly on the shoulder. "You''re my hero, mate."


    Soya, trying desperately to suppress his laughter, approached Sage carefully, sensing his embarrassment beneath the simmering annoyance. "It¡ªit¡¯s not so bad," Soya managed to say gently, giving a kind smile in Sage¡¯s direction. "You actually look kind of nice."


    Sage¡¯s glare softened fractionally, his discomfort shifting to mild uncertainty. He stared at Soya, searching the smaller boy¡¯s expression for any hint of ridicule. Finding none, his eyes darted away, embarrassed but less angry. "You¡¯re just saying that," he muttered, fingers self-consciously touching one of the fluffy ears.


    "No, he isn¡¯t," Kalsei declared, folding his arms smugly. "Soya never lies."


    Sage shifted uncomfortably but said nothing further, quietly accepting his fate for now. Across the room, Tiana turned away from her conversation with the shopkeeper, glancing curiously toward the boys. A delicate smile crossed her lips, amusement glittering in her eyes as she saw Sage in his unexpected new attire. Even Draven, who had quietly observed the scene without comment, allowed himself the smallest of amused smirks.


    Though Sage still looked deeply uncertain about the entire situation, he made no move to remove the cat ears. Instead, he stood quietly, flushed with embarrassment but somehow, reluctantly allowing himself to be part of their world¡ªeven if just for a moment.


    By the time the sun hung high in the sky, the group had finally settled on their costumes, each selection reflecting their individual personalities¡ªor perhaps hidden aspirations. Sage, much to his initial embarrassment and the gentle amusement of his companions, had ultimately embraced Kalsei''s playful suggestion, deciding to lean into the feline concept that had been thrust upon him. Though he tried to maintain his usual cold facade, he secretly found himself appreciating the subtle elegance of the enchanted cat ears atop his head, even though he would sooner face detention than openly admit such a thing.


    Soya watched Sage quietly from a few paces away, pleased to see the once-distant boy beginning to show a slightly more approachable side, even if it was reluctantly. Sage eventually selected an outfit that balanced perfectly on the edge between cute and intimidating¡ªa sleek, black-and-silver ensemble featuring claw-shaped embroidery along the sleeves, a cloak hemmed with subtle silver trim, and dark leather gloves etched with rune-like patterns that suggested both sophistication and danger. The look was unexpectedly striking on him, accentuating the piercing darkness of his eyes and the sharpness of his features, even as the ears softened his usually intense presence.


    "You look great," Soya said softly, approaching Sage with a gentle smile. "It suits you."


    Sage''s cheeks darkened slightly, and for a brief instant, his usual mask faltered, revealing genuine uncertainty beneath. "It''s...passable," he mumbled, his gaze dropping momentarily before quickly recovering its guarded confidence. "But don¡¯t tell anyone I said that."


    Soya smiled warmly. "Your secret¡¯s safe with me."


    Seeing Sage embracing the cat ears with begrudging enthusiasm seemed to inspire the rest of the group, who quickly became engrossed in finding their own costumes. Tiana, elegant and poised as always, chose an outfit inspired by a famed sorceress from Australian wizarding folklore, known for her strength, wisdom, and unwavering sense of justice. The gown she picked was both practical and graceful, adorned with intricate embroidery in shades of midnight blue and silver. She carried herself with quiet dignity, effortlessly embodying the historical figure''s presence and confidence.


    Draven, as meticulous and analytical as ever, took his time selecting something suitably dignified. Eventually, he settled upon robes that matched the ceremonial attire of an esteemed former Head of the Australian Ministry of Magic, famed not only for his magical prowess but for his cunning and decisive leadership. The deep emerald and gold robes enhanced Draven''s calm, authoritative air, and when he quietly adjusted the high collar, Davonte could not resist teasing him for looking like a politician even outside class. Draven merely offered a slight shrug, replying dryly, "I suppose dignity isn''t for everyone."


    Davonte, predictably, opted for something significantly more flamboyant. After thoroughly interrogating Soya about Muggle stories filled with heroics and knights of legend, Davonte selected a shining suit of enchanted armor¡ªcomplete with a cloak of vivid crimson that billowed dramatically around him with every movement. His excitement was infectious, and even Draven had difficulty hiding his amusement as Davonte practiced exaggerated heroic poses in front of the shop mirror, declaring loudly that Austramore would soon witness the bravery of the "greatest knight they''ve ever seen."


    Soya shook his head with amusement, feeling his spirits lift as he watched his friends lose themselves in their newfound roles. Finally, after a gentle nudge from Kalsei¡ªwho had already transformed himself into an irresistibly adorable cat boy, complete with pastel-colored fur trimmings, whiskers drawn delicately across his cheeks, and a tail charmed to swish realistically¡ªSoya chose a simple, comfortable costume of his own. In a quiet show of solidarity with Sage, he decided to don a matching pair of enchanted cat ears, though his attire took on a gentler, softer appearance, blending shades of muted charcoal with playful accents of white and pale silver.


    He glanced toward Sage as he adjusted his costume, half-expecting some form of teasing or disdainful remark, but the other boy merely watched him quietly, his usually piercing gaze softened into something unreadable but faintly approving.


    "It''s nice," Sage finally murmured, barely audible, as though reluctant to reveal even this tiny compliment.


    Soya smiled shyly, warmth blossoming gently in his chest. "Thanks, Sage."


    From across the room, Davonte let out an exaggerated groan, though he seemed unable to hide his own grudging amusement. "Great, now there¡¯s two of them. As if Detra wasn¡¯t already enough of a cat fanatic."


    Kalsei giggled, cat ears twitching in playful delight. "You¡¯re just jealous you didn¡¯t join our squad, Davonte."


    Davonte huffed indignantly, clanging slightly as he shifted within his armor. "I¡¯m a knight, thank you very much. Knights don¡¯t get jealous."


    Draven tilted his head slightly, regarding Davonte skeptically. "Are you certain? Historical records suggest otherwise."


    Davonte waved dismissively, flashing a wide grin. "Yeah, yeah, history. You ruin all my fun."


    Together, the group paid for their purchases and stepped out into the early afternoon sun, each student clutching parcels filled with colorful costumes and new memories. Except for Davonte, who had now embraced his role as a knight and wore his costume out onto the street. As they slowly made their way deeper into Fernwick, laughter and cheerful conversation filling the air, Soya found himself walking closer to Sage, quietly enjoying the way his usually distant companion seemed to relax slightly in his presence.


    For the first time, Sage felt less like an outsider. Though he would never openly admit it, especially to anyone else, something about Soya''s quiet encouragement had reached him, gently cracking open the carefully constructed armor of indifference he had worn for so long.


    As the afternoon sun began to dip, casting slender shadows across the town, the group paused at the intersection in front of Perswick¡¯s Particular Potions to discuss their next moves. The village bustled with students and townsfolk enjoying the early-afternoon energy, laughter and conversations weaving comfortably through the air around them. Draven, ever observant, checked the time thoughtfully before speaking.


    ¡°Perhaps we should split up to explore,¡± Draven suggested logically, eyes flickering to a nearby shop window advertising newly released magical history volumes. Tiana¡¯s gaze followed his, clearly intrigued by the same shop. She tilted her head slightly, the faintest hint of a smile curving her lips as she glanced back at Draven.


    ¡°I¡¯ll join you,¡± she said calmly, nodding toward the bookshop. ¡°I need something new to read anyway.¡±


    Davonte rolled his eyes dramatically, his armored shoulders clanking as he gestured toward the streets in exaggerated resignation. ¡°Typical. You two and your obsession with dusty old tomes. Honestly, it¡¯s a miracle your brains haven¡¯t melted from boredom.¡±


    Draven adjusted his robes, unfazed, simply raising an eyebrow at his friend¡¯s theatrics. ¡°Perhaps we prefer intelligent company.¡±


    Davonte scoffed, feigning wounded pride. ¡°Ouch, mate. Brutal.¡±


    Before Draven could offer another dry retort, Kalsei suddenly grabbed hold of Soya¡¯s wrist, his eyes alight with excitement. ¡°Soya, come with me! There¡¯s this fantastic broom shop down the street, and I just have to show you something¡ªI promise it''ll be quick!¡±


    Without waiting for an answer, Kalsei tugged Soya along eagerly, the smaller boy laughing softly and stumbling a little as Kalsei pulled him away, his protests lost beneath Kalsei''s infectious enthusiasm. "We''ll meet you all back here before sundown!" Kalsei called cheerfully over his shoulder, already guiding Soya into the bustling crowd.


    Davonte turned, suddenly aware that he was left standing alone with Sage, who remained silent at the edge of the group. Sage was watching the retreating forms of Soya and Kalsei with an unreadable expression, a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty that flickered briefly across his face before being hidden once again beneath his usual mask of cool detachment.


    The tension between them was unmistakable. Davonte felt his instincts bristle; he was naturally protective of Soya and couldn¡¯t easily forget Sage¡¯s earlier cruelty. Yet, he also remembered Soya¡¯s quiet words from earlier, the soft plea for him to give Sage a chance.


    Swallowing his reservations, Davonte exhaled slowly and turned toward Sage, forcing a relaxed smile onto his face. "Guess it''s just you and me, huh?" he said lightly, attempting to sound friendlier than he felt.


    Sage met Davonte''s eyes warily, clearly uncertain of Davonte¡¯s sincerity. His shoulders tensed, and his expression hardened defensively. "You don''t have to babysit me, Evander," he replied curtly, crossing his arms tightly. Despite his attempt to appear unaffected, the edge in his voice betrayed a hint of insecurity beneath the usual arrogance.


    Davonte regarded him for a moment, biting back a sharp reply. He forced himself to soften his tone, recalling the faith Soya seemed to have in Sage. ¡°I¡¯m not babysitting you, Sage. Believe it or not, I¡¯m actually choosing to be here. Call it giving you a chance, I suppose.¡±


    Sage narrowed his eyes skeptically, though the hostility ebbed slightly, replaced by wary curiosity. "Why?" he demanded, clearly puzzled by Davonte¡¯s unexpected willingness. "You have no reason to trust me."


    Davonte sighed, shrugging his broad shoulders, the armor clinking faintly. "Honestly? I don''t. But Soya seems to trust you¡ªor at least he wants to try. He tends to see the best in people, even when the rest of us don''t."


    Sage glanced away, his gaze dropping to the cobblestones beneath his feet. "He¡¯s na?ve," he muttered, though without the usual biting disdain. "Trust like that will get him hurt."


    Davonte regarded him carefully, sensing a vulnerability beneath Sage¡¯s harsh facade. "Maybe," he admitted. "But maybe he sees something we can¡¯t."


    A tense silence settled between them for several moments, broken only by the distant chatter and laughter of the village. Finally, Sage shifted slightly, his eyes darting back toward Davonte, studying him carefully before offering a hesitant nod.


    "Fine," Sage relented, lifting his chin slightly in guarded acceptance. "Lead the way, knight-boy."


    Davonte cracked a grin, allowing the tension to dissolve somewhat as he turned toward the street lined with intriguing shops. "Careful, Blackthorn," he teased, walking forward with Sage falling into step beside him. "Keep being decent like this, and you might just become likable."


    Sage snorted in disbelief, though the corners of his lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smirk. "Let¡¯s not get carried away."

 Chapter 53: Familiar Changes

    Inside the quaint bookstore nestled between the charming buildings of Fernwick, Draven and Tiana wandered leisurely among towering shelves filled with ancient tomes and freshly printed volumes, the air thick with the comforting scent of aged parchment and ink. Warm lanterns cast pools of gentle light across wooden tables piled high with new arrivals, each stack promising untold discoveries and tantalizing secrets hidden within their pages.


    Draven adjusted his emerald robes absently, his normally impassive face illuminated with quiet enthusiasm as he picked up a particularly intriguing book titled Advanced Magical Theory: Unraveling Enchantments and Counter-Curses. His fingers traced the embossed title with reverence, eyes glittering with interest. "Fascinating," he murmured quietly, half to himself. "They''ve finally released the second volume¡ªProfessor Blackthorn mentioned it last month, remember?"


    Beside him, Tiana gently plucked another copy of the same book from the table, her expression serene yet unmistakably excited as she flipped through the pages, absorbing the text swiftly but carefully. "He did," she agreed, her voice a warm, melodic whisper that carried softly through the store. "I was beginning to think it was never going to come out. It''s supposed to completely redefine our understanding of protective enchantments."


    Draven hummed thoughtfully, turning another page and scanning the contents with an analytical gaze. "It delves deeper into magical constructs than anything we''ve had access to before. This could revolutionize how we approach defensive magic entirely."


    Tiana nodded thoughtfully, brushing a lock of steel-blue hair from her face as she lifted her gaze to meet Draven¡¯s. Her dark eyes, usually reserved, sparkled with genuine enthusiasm as she spoke. "It¡¯s refreshing, isn¡¯t it? To see new theories emerge after centuries of stagnation. Austramore could benefit from a little innovation."


    Draven''s lips curved subtly in agreement, a rare smile of approval passing across his typically serious face. "You would certainly be the one to lead that charge. Professor Blackthorn once said you have the sharpest mind in our year."


    Tiana¡¯s cheeks flushed faintly, though she maintained her poised composure, gracefully turning her attention back to the book in her hands. "He mentioned the same about you," she countered softly, her tone warm with mutual respect. "Perhaps together, we might uncover ideas even he hasn''t considered."


    Draven tilted his head, considering her thoughtfully for a long moment before responding. "I believe we could," he admitted finally, his voice calm and sincere. "Though Professor Blackthorn''s standards are notoriously high."


    Tiana chuckled quietly, the gentle sound rare enough to draw a brief, intrigued glance from Draven. "True," she conceded, turning a page thoughtfully. "But that''s what makes this field fascinating. No matter how much we learn, there''s always something deeper waiting beneath the surface."


    Draven¡¯s expression softened slightly, a hint of admiration visible in his careful eyes. "I suppose that¡¯s why we keep searching," he replied simply, pausing briefly to inspect a complex diagram illustrating enchantment runes. "No matter how many answers we find, the questions never truly end."


    They fell into a comfortable silence, each absorbed in their respective copies of the book, occasionally exchanging quiet comments about the theories they discovered, effortlessly losing themselves in the shared joy of knowledge. Around them, the bookstore hummed with a gentle, inviting energy, its atmosphere perfectly suited to their quiet companionship.


    For Tiana, who had spent so long navigating the complexities of her past alone, it felt surprisingly comforting to share such simple pleasures with someone who understood the depth of her passion. And for Draven, whose world had always been shaped by logic and detached observation, this quiet moment of connection was a rare and welcome experience¡ªone he had not anticipated finding in a quiet bookstore tucked away in Fernwick.


    Together, immersed in their discoveries, they lingered, unaware of time passing, bound by the gentle magic of curiosity and the quiet, shared excitement of unraveling the secrets held within each page.


    Davonte''s eyes sparkled with childlike excitement as they stepped into the vibrant candy shop, the sweet aroma of caramel and sugar immediately enveloping them in a comforting embrace. Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, packed full of colorful sweets that shimmered under magical enchantments¡ªglittering chocolates shaped like dragons, sugar-spun phoenix feathers that floated gracefully in jars, and licorice wands that occasionally shot harmless sparks into the air.


    Sage, however, stood stiffly by the door, his expression an unconvincing mask of disinterest. The sweet scents and cheerful decor seemed to irritate him, as if their very existence was an affront to his carefully crafted image. His dark eyes flickered impatiently around the room before finally settling on Davonte, who was already enthusiastically filling a bag with every treat within arm¡¯s reach.


    "Really, Evander?" Sage drawled dryly, folding his arms tightly across his chest. "We¡¯re nearly teenagers. Isn¡¯t it time you grew out of this?"


    Davonte shot Sage a sidelong glance, feigning exaggerated hurt as he dramatically dropped another handful of vibrant jellybeans into his bag. "Firstly, you underestimate my maturity, mate. Secondly, you''re never too old for candy. It¡¯s scientifically proven."


    Sage rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Scientifically proven, is it?"


    Davonte nodded sagely, popping a candy-coated chocolate into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully before answering with utmost seriousness. "Absolutely. Ask Draven. It''s something to do with magical metabolism or whatever."


    Sage sighed, a hint of exasperation creeping into his usually cold demeanor. "I''m fairly certain Draven never said anything remotely like that."


    Davonte merely shrugged, entirely unbothered. "He might have. Honestly, half the time I just nod and pretend to listen when he gets too technical." He grinned wickedly, holding out a brightly colored lollipop toward Sage. "Go on, try one. Even someone like you can¡¯t hate everything."


    Sage stared down at the candy as if it were poisonous, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I think I''ll pass," he said flatly, deliberately ignoring the way Davonte''s grin faltered slightly.


    Undeterred, Davonte waved the lollipop playfully in front of Sage¡¯s face. "Your loss," he quipped lightly, though his tone grew slightly softer as he spoke again. "You know, it wouldn¡¯t hurt to loosen up just a little."


    Sage¡¯s jaw tightened, his voice lowering defensively. "Loosening up isn¡¯t exactly a luxury I''ve had much experience with."


    Davonte paused, momentarily taken aback by Sage¡¯s unexpectedly honest reply. He regarded Sage carefully, his expression turning serious. "Maybe that''s the problem," he said quietly, lowering his voice just enough to convey sincerity. "You¡¯re allowed to have fun once in a while, Blackthorn. You don¡¯t have to punish yourself."


    Sage looked away abruptly, his carefully maintained mask slipping just enough to reveal a flicker of vulnerability behind his eyes. He shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat quietly as he quickly rebuilt his composure. "You know nothing about it," he muttered curtly, the edge returning to his voice like a sharpened blade.


    Davonte frowned slightly but backed off, sensing he''d reached a line Sage wasn¡¯t ready to cross. He turned back toward the candies, attempting to regain the lighthearted mood. "Fine, suit yourself. But I''m getting you a bag anyway. Consider it charity."


    "Don''t bother," Sage replied, his voice returning to its usual clipped tone. "I doubt anything here is to my taste."


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    Davonte, ignoring the pointed rebuff, began filling a second bag anyway, quietly determined to find something Sage might secretly enjoy, even if the stubborn boy wouldn''t admit it. Sage watched with a conflicted expression, a mixture of annoyance, curiosity, and reluctant amusement tugging at his carefully guarded features.


    After a moment, Sage finally shook his head, clearly having reached his limit. "I''m going to do my own thing," he announced brusquely, turning sharply on his heel toward the exit.


    Davonte looked up in mild surprise, his hand pausing halfway into a jar of sugary frogs. "Alright," he called after Sage, keeping his voice neutral, though inwardly he couldn''t help but feel a pang of disappointment. "We''ll meet up later."


    Sage hesitated briefly by the door, shoulders tense. Without looking back, he mumbled a short, begrudging acknowledgment, "Yeah¡­ later," before slipping out onto the bustling street beyond, leaving Davonte alone amidst a sea of sweets and unanswered questions.


    Inside the broom shop, the air buzzed with palpable excitement. Polished broomsticks floated serenely in neat rows along the walls, gently bobbing as though eager to take flight. Afternoon sunlight streamed through wide windows, illuminating the polished wood and sleek bristles of the finely crafted brooms, each promising breathtaking speed and precision. The aroma of freshly lacquered timber and subtle enchantments mingled warmly, adding to the charm of the space.


    Kalsei, practically vibrating with enthusiasm, tugged Soya gently by the sleeve toward a dazzling display in the shop''s center. His eyes shimmered with anticipation as he waved dramatically at the impressive array of flying brooms.


    "Soya! Look at these¡ªthey just got the latest Nimbus Thunderwinds in stock!" Kalsei exclaimed brightly, pointing excitedly at a sleek broom etched with shimmering silver runes that pulsed softly with latent magic. "It¡¯s one of the fastest models ever created. Imagine the speed! Imagine the control!"


    Soya smiled warmly at his friend¡¯s boundless excitement, though beneath his cheerful expression, his stomach twisted uneasily. He had never admitted to anyone that the thought of flying terrified him¡ªbeing so high up on nothing more than enchanted wood was a thought that filled him with dread rather than excitement. Still, Kalsei was so earnest, so passionate, that Soya couldn''t bring himself to dampen his friend''s spirits.


    "They do look impressive," Soya managed, voice steady despite the subtle tension in his shoulders. He peered closer at the broom, forcing a smile. "You thinking of getting one?"


    Kalsei nodded eagerly, brushing a lock of hair from his eyes. "Absolutely! I need an upgrade for next year''s Quidditch season. The new first-years won''t know what hit them when they see me zooming around the pitch on one of these."


    Soya chuckled softly, imagining Kalsei dramatically soaring above the Quidditch field, effortlessly charming and distracting both teammates and opponents alike. "I don''t doubt you''ll make quite the impression," he replied, his smile genuine despite the knot in his stomach tightening slightly as he imagined himself attempting the same.


    Kalsei glanced at him curiously, his golden eyes softening slightly in concern. "Are you alright, Soya? You look a little pale."


    Soya quickly waved off the concern, forcing his voice into a cheerful tone. "Oh, I''m fine¡ªjust imagining what it would feel like to ride something so fast. You know, trying to wrap my head around the whole flying-on-a-stick thing."


    Kalsei laughed brightly, nodding with understanding. "I get it¡ªit can be pretty intimidating if you''re not used to it. But trust me, once you''re up there, it''s incredible. The freedom is like nothing else." He leaned closer conspiratorially, voice lowering as if sharing a secret. "Next year, I''ll teach you myself. No pressure, no expectations. Just us and the wind in our hair. It''ll be fun!"


    Soya swallowed nervously, though Kalsei¡¯s kindness touched him deeply. The genuine offer made him feel a little less apprehensive, even if he wasn''t entirely convinced. "Thanks, Kalsei," he murmured sincerely, a gentle smile softening his features. "I might just take you up on that¡ªeventually."


    Kalsei beamed, clearly satisfied with the answer. He turned once more toward the sleek broomsticks, happily running his fingers over the polished handles as he chatted animatedly about speed records and broom-handling techniques. Soya listened attentively, his anxiety temporarily overshadowed by Kalsei¡¯s infectious excitement.


    After a while, Kalsei glanced at the clock and sighed dramatically, shaking his head with exaggerated regret. "As much as I''d love to stay here all day, I really do need a new cloak before next term," he declared decisively, stepping toward the shop''s door. "I have to impress the new first-years, you know¡ªcan¡¯t let them think I''m anything less than spectacular."


    Soya laughed, shaking his head fondly at Kalsei¡¯s cheerful vanity. "I don¡¯t think there¡¯s much chance of that," he teased gently. "I¡¯m pretty sure you''ve already got the spectacular part down."


    Kalsei winked playfully, his cheeks flushed slightly. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Vareen," he joked warmly, opening the door to the lively street outside. "I''ll catch up with you later. Make sure you have some fun exploring, alright?"


    "Promise," Soya replied, offering a small wave as Kalsei disappeared into the bustling street.


    Now alone, Soya took a deep breath, allowing the cheerful sounds and warm sunlight of Fernwick to soothe away his lingering nerves. He turned slowly, contemplating his next destination, eager to take advantage of the rare opportunity to simply explore and unwind at his own pace.


    Soya wandered leisurely through the lively streets of Fernwick, the gentle buzz of chatter and laughter mingling with the soft rustle of the breeze through trees lining the cobbled paths. Warm golden light bathed the town, casting a comforting glow over the quaint storefronts, each shop inviting and charming in its own way. His eyes drifted over colorful shop windows filled with exotic potions, enchanted trinkets, and whimsical clothing, until suddenly, something else entirely captured his attention.


    Ahead of him stood a small, cozy shop he¡¯d never noticed before. Its sign, adorned with delicate script, read "Fernwick Familiars." Intrigued, Soya stepped closer, drawn in by the faint sounds of cheerful chirping and quiet mewing that spilled gently through the slightly open door. But what truly caught his attention was the sight behind the window: Sage Blackthorn stood motionless, his dark eyes utterly fixated upon a small black kitten nestled comfortably behind the glass.


    Soya paused, blinking in surprise as he watched Sage stare at the tiny creature. Sage was utterly transfixed, completely absorbed in a silent, intense staring contest with the kitten. It was strange¡ªalmost amusing¡ªto see someone as cold and guarded as Sage, completely at the mercy of a tiny, fluffy animal.


    A soft, thoughtful smile spread across Soya¡¯s lips as he recalled the brief moment in the common room when Sage had quietly mentioned, in passing and quickly brushed off, wanting a kitten. At the time, Soya hadn''t been entirely sure he¡¯d even heard correctly. But now, seeing Sage''s uncharacteristic fascination with the kitten, he knew he had.


    Without giving it further thought, Soya quietly stepped into the shop. Sage didn''t so much as glance up, still locked in his unwavering gaze with the tiny feline. Soya moved silently toward the shopkeeper, who looked up from a ledger with a gentle smile. Soya nodded toward the black kitten and murmured quietly, "I''d like to purchase that one, please."


    The shopkeeper glanced toward the kitten, following Soya¡¯s gaze to where Sage stood frozen in contemplation. Understanding dawned in the shopkeeper''s eyes, along with a knowing smile. "Of course," she whispered warmly. "That''s a lovely choice. Do you want me to box him up?"


    Soya shook his head gently, unable to suppress the small smile forming on his lips as he quietly gestured toward Sage. "No need. It''s for him. Would you mind letting him know?"


    The shopkeeper''s smile deepened, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she nodded, "Absolutely."


    With a quiet thank you and a final glance at Sage, Soya stepped lightly out of the shop, feeling warmth and satisfaction spread pleasantly through his chest. He lingered briefly by the window, unable to resist stealing one more glance inside.


    The shopkeeper had approached Sage quietly, carefully keeping her voice gentle to avoid startling him. "Would you like a carrier for the kitten?"


    Sage blinked, his intense concentration breaking abruptly as he turned, startled and confused. "What?" he asked, eyebrows knitting together in wary suspicion. "Why would I need a carrier?"


    She smiled kindly, motioning to the black kitten, who was now pawing playfully at the glass. "Your friend already purchased him for you. He seemed certain you were meant for each other."


    Sage''s confusion melted into a mixture of surprise and something deeper, something vulnerable. He spun toward the shop''s window just in time to catch sight of Soya''s retreating figure disappearing down the bustling street. Warmth surged into Sage''s chest, unsettling yet undeniably pleasant.


    He turned back to the kitten, who now watched him with vibrant, intelligent eyes, its tiny head tilted inquisitively. The feline was dark as the void, silky fur shining faintly beneath the magical lanterns. Slowly, tentatively, Sage reached out, placing one finger gently against the glass.


    The kitten pressed its paw softly against the opposite side, eyes locked on Sage''s, its small mouth parting in a silent mew.


    Sage felt something within him shift slightly, an unfamiliar softness he had fought so hard against. He exhaled quietly, almost inaudibly, and nodded to the shopkeeper. "Yes, please," he murmured softly, his voice unusually gentle. "I''ll take the carrier."


    As Sage waited quietly by the counter, a strange, foreign feeling settled into his heart¡ªone he couldn''t quite name but that felt inexplicably right. He glanced once more out the window in the direction Soya had gone, lips tugging into the faintest hint of a smile.

 Chapter 54: Sparkly Retribution

    The Thylacea common room was comfortably warm, bathed in the gentle amber glow of magical lamps. A soft murmur of conversation filled the air as students relaxed after their day in Fernwick, recounting their adventures and proudly displaying their newly acquired treasures. Among them, seated awkwardly in an armchair near the fireplace, Sage Blackthorn held a small black kitten carefully in his lap, looking profoundly uncomfortable and simultaneously determined not to show it.


    Davonte, sprawled casually across one of the sofas opposite Sage, was the first to notice. He sat up abruptly, eyes widening comically as they landed on the tiny feline now curled contentedly in Sage¡¯s lap. "Blackthorn?" he said incredulously, pointing with exaggerated confusion. "Is that a cat?"


    Sage glanced up, his expression immediately turning defensive, the muscles in his jaw tightening slightly as he reluctantly met Davonte¡¯s surprised stare. "Obviously," he retorted stiffly, absently running his fingers over the kitten¡¯s sleek, dark fur. "Observant as always, Evander."


    Davonte shot back a skeptical grin, undeterred by Sage''s chilly tone. "I didn''t exactly take you for a kitten person. Dragons or snakes, maybe, but kittens?"


    Kalsei, who had been half-listening to their exchange while examining his new cloak¡ªbright teal with embroidered patterns¡ªabruptly spun around at the mention of kittens. His eyes sparkled with delighted curiosity as he practically bounced over to Sage''s chair, barely containing his excitement. "Oh my gosh! It¡¯s adorable! Look at its little face!" he cooed happily, reaching out to gently scratch the kitten under its chin.


    Sage tensed briefly but said nothing, merely glaring at Kalsei¡¯s hand as though daring it to move an inch too far. But to everyone¡¯s surprise, the kitten tilted its head back, eyes squinting shut in blissful appreciation of the attention, emitting a soft, contented purr.


    Tiana, elegantly seated nearby, regarded the scene with quiet amusement, the corner of her lips quirking upward in a restrained smile. "It suits you, Sage," she observed gently, her voice calm and soothing as she gracefully set down the book she had been browsing. "Though, I admit it''s unexpected."


    Draven, seated beside her with a thick volume open on his lap, nodded thoughtfully, his keen eyes observing the kitten with an analytical interest. "Familiars often reflect their wizard''s personality," he remarked casually, adjusting his glasses slightly. "Though in this case, perhaps it¡¯s an opposite reflection¡ªa balancing force, one might say."


    Davonte grinned wickedly, leaning forward eagerly. "Exactly. Maybe it''ll help soften Blackthorn''s edges a little," he teased lightly.


    Sage scowled fiercely at Davonte, though a faint flush crept up his pale cheeks, betraying his embarrassment. He glanced quickly down at the kitten again, its large eyes gazing trustingly up at him, and something in his guarded expression softened. "I didn''t exactly choose it," he muttered under his breath, reluctantly admitting the truth. "Soya bought it for me."


    An immediate silence followed, broken only by the soft crackle of the fire and the kitten''s quiet purring. Davonte''s grin faltered slightly, surprise flickering across his features. "Soya?" he repeated, eyebrows raised. "Soya bought you a kitten?"


    Sage shrugged awkwardly, eyes stubbornly fixed on the tiny creature nestled comfortably against him. "Apparently," he said curtly, though there was an underlying note of something gentler in his voice, something reluctant yet undeniably grateful. "I didn''t ask him to."


    Tiana¡¯s expression softened knowingly, a gentle warmth entering her gaze as she studied Sage. "He has a habit of noticing things others miss," she said quietly. "Perhaps he saw something you didn''t realize you needed."


    Davonte hesitated, chewing his lip thoughtfully before he nodded slowly. "He does have that way about him," he admitted, voice losing its teasing edge. "Still surprising, though."


    Kalsei, meanwhile, was already back to happily doting on the kitten, grinning brightly at Sage. "Have you thought of a name yet? You can¡¯t just keep calling him ''it.'' He deserves something special."


    Sage stared down at the kitten, uncertainty flickering briefly across his carefully guarded face. He traced one finger softly along its velvety ear, the kitten immediately leaning into his touch. "I haven¡¯t decided yet," he murmured quietly, almost to himself. "It''s only been a few hours."


    Draven regarded Sage with a faint but unmistakably approving nod. "Choosing a familiar''s name is important. Take your time."


    Sage met Draven''s eyes briefly, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. He then returned his attention to the kitten, whose tiny body was now curled into a contented ball, paws tucked beneath its chest. For once, the ever-composed Sage Blackthorn seemed uncertain, vulnerable¡ªthough none of his companions dared point it out.


    Davonte finally broke the silence again, clearing his throat loudly as he leaned back comfortably into his chair. "Well, whatever you call it, I hope it bites you at least once," he teased lightly, smirking playfully at Sage. "Just to remind you to be nice."


    Sage glared sharply at Davonte, but the faintest flicker of amusement twitched at the corners of his lips before he quickly masked it. "Noted, Evander," he retorted coolly, his voice returning to its usual clipped tone, though softer now. "I''ll be sure to inform him of your advice."


    Around them, gentle laughter rippled quietly through the group, and even Sage seemed a little less tense, the warm glow of the fire illuminating the small, hesitant beginnings of something new¡ªfriendship, acceptance, and perhaps, a little more hope than he''d had before.


    The conversation slowly shifted away from Sage¡¯s kitten as Davonte stretched dramatically, reaching down beside his chair to grab a heavy bag filled to the brim with treats and trinkets. He eagerly placed it onto the table with an exaggerated flourish, grinning broadly. "Alright," he announced proudly, "since Blackthorn¡¯s little furball has had enough attention, it¡¯s time we compare our Fernwick hauls."


    Kalsei clapped his hands excitedly, immediately diving into his bag and pulling out the shimmering teal cloak he had purchased earlier. With a theatrical spin, he draped it around his shoulders, the vibrant material shimmering beautifully in the gentle glow of the room. "What do you think? Does it scream ''magical prodigy who will amaze and inspire the younger generation''?"


    Davonte laughed openly, nodding approvingly. "It definitely screams something, mate. But yeah, you¡¯ll leave an impression for sure."


    Tiana shook her head softly, a quiet smile playing at the corners of her lips as she reached into her elegant satchel and produced a set of beautifully engraved silver quills, the craftsmanship delicate and refined. "I stopped by that exquisite stationery shop," she said softly, her eyes bright with quiet pride. "These quills are enchanted¡ªthey¡¯ll never run dry, and the ink changes color according to my mood."


    Draven¡¯s eyebrows lifted slightly in genuine interest, and he leaned forward, examining the quills with scholarly fascination. "Remarkable. Quite useful for someone who keeps extensive notes," he remarked thoughtfully, reaching into his own neatly organized bag and retrieving a stack of heavy tomes. "I visited the bookstore. Managed to find several rare texts on advanced potion-brewing and historical magical theory."


    Davonte rolled his eyes good-naturedly, leaning over to peer at Draven¡¯s books, his expression a comical mix of awe and mild disbelief. "You realize this was meant to be a day off, right, mate? Did you really just spend your entire Fernwick visit finding ways to do more homework?"


    Draven¡¯s expression was entirely serious as he adjusted his glasses calmly. "Not homework¡ªpersonal study. There¡¯s an important difference."


    Tiana chuckled quietly at Draven¡¯s earnestness, exchanging a knowing glance with Davonte before turning her attention to Sage, who was gently stroking the tiny kitten now sleeping soundly in his lap. "Did you find anything besides the kitten, Sage?"


    Sage hesitated, momentarily caught off guard by the question, then shook his head slightly. "No. The¡­cat occupied most of my time," he admitted quietly, not quite able to keep the awkwardness from his voice. He quickly added, in an almost defensive tone, "Besides, I wasn¡¯t really looking for anything else."


    Davonte shrugged, popping a piece of candy from his impressive stash into his mouth. "Fair enough. Can¡¯t top getting a kitten, I suppose."


    Their conversation lulled gently, the common room settling into quiet warmth as the students admired each other''s finds, soft chatter filling the spaces between them. Sage seemed to relax slightly, leaning back in his chair and allowing himself to enjoy the unfamiliar comfort of casual companionship.


    It was then that gentle footsteps descended from the dormitory staircase, and Soya quietly entered the common room, his sketchbook tucked securely under his arm. He paused briefly at the foot of the stairs, taking in the pleasant scene before him with mild curiosity.


    Davonte looked up first, flashing a wide grin and waving him over enthusiastically. "Soya! There you are, mate. We were just comparing loot from Fernwick."


    Soya smiled softly, approaching the group with a shy, curious expression. "Sounds like you all had a good time," he said gently, eyes immediately softening further as he caught sight of Sage and the sleeping kitten. "I see the kitten made itself right at home."


    Sage glanced away quickly, though the faint flush that rose to his cheeks betrayed a quiet gratitude. "You didn¡¯t have to buy him," he mumbled stiffly, unable to meet Soya¡¯s warm gaze.


    Soya shrugged gently, taking a seat near Davonte and setting his sketchbook down. "I wanted to. Everyone deserves something special."


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Kalsei eagerly cut in, practically bouncing in place. "Speaking of special, what did you get, Soya? Surely you didn¡¯t spend your entire Fernwick trip hiding in the dorm?"


    Soya laughed softly, shaking his head. "No, I got a few things. Mostly art supplies¡ªa new set of charmed inks, some enchanted parchment, and a really nice leather-bound sketchbook." He lifted his new book carefully, displaying the beautifully embossed cover. "Supposedly, anything I draw in this book will last longer."


    Tiana¡¯s eyes brightened with genuine interest. "That''s perfect for your¡­ unique talent," she said meaningfully, her gaze meeting his warmly.


    Soya flushed slightly, ducking his head shyly. "That''s the idea," he admitted quietly. "I figured it might help me get better control."


    Draven nodded approvingly. "It¡¯s wise to invest in tools that match your potential, Soya. Good choice."


    Davonte leaned forward eagerly, eyes shining mischievously. "So, are you going to draw Sage¡¯s kitten first? Seems fitting."


    Soya laughed softly, his eyes darting briefly to Sage, who was still stubbornly avoiding eye contact but whose tense posture had relaxed considerably since earlier. "Maybe," he teased gently. "If Sage allows it, that is."


    Sage exhaled slowly, his lips pressed into a thin line. But when he finally spoke, his voice was unusually soft. "Do what you like. Just¡­make sure it looks good."


    A gentle round of laughter filled the common room once again, the warmth of genuine camaraderie enveloping them all. Soya smiled contentedly, glancing around at his friends. The feeling was comforting¡ªa reminder that despite the dangers and mysteries they''d faced recently, there were still moments like this: peaceful, warm, and filled with simple happiness.


    Later that afternoon, the halls of Austramore lay peaceful and nearly empty, their polished stone floors reflecting the fading sunlight streaming gently through towering windows. Soya moved quietly down one of the long, curving corridors, his sketchbook tucked carefully beneath one arm, his expression thoughtful yet distant. His mind was occupied, as it often was, with fragments of sketches he¡¯d yet to create and runes he¡¯d yet to fully understand. The events of the past few days still weighed heavily upon him, casting their own uncertain shadows.


    Lost in these thoughts, he didn''t immediately notice the steady, purposeful footsteps approaching from behind until a familiar, cool voice cut through his reverie.


    ¡°Vareen,¡± came the crisp, unmistakably authoritative voice of Lykaios Verelle, "We need to talk."


    Soya glanced up quickly, startled by her sudden presence. Lykaios matched his pace effortlessly, her piercing blue eyes coolly assessing him, her flawless ponytail swaying slightly with each precise stride. Even now, her very presence radiated confidence, command, and a hint of barely restrained impatience.


    "Is something wrong?" Soya asked hesitantly, still somewhat intimidated by her intensity, though he¡¯d grown accustomed to her unpredictable interventions recently. ¡°Did I¡ª¡±


    ¡°You''ve missed practice twice already this week,¡± Lykaios cut him off bluntly, folding her arms in a gesture of stern disapproval. "The demon incident should have made it obvious. You''re a target now, and if you''re going to survive, you need to take your training seriously."


    Soya shifted uncomfortably, averting his eyes briefly. "I know," he murmured softly, guilt lacing his quiet tone. "I''m sorry, Lykaios. I''ll do better¡ªI promise."


    She regarded him for a moment, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. ¡°Promises are meaningless unless backed by action,¡± she stated matter-of-factly, halting abruptly and stepping in front of him, forcing him to stop as well. Her expression softened almost imperceptibly, her voice losing a hint of its sharpness. "You''re skilled, Soya. More skilled than you realize. But raw talent alone won''t save you. It needs discipline, focus, and¡ª"


    But whatever else she had planned to say was abruptly cut off by a loud, sharp snap beneath her foot. Lykaios froze instantly, her eyes widening in surprise as the air around them seemed to ripple with barely suppressed magic.


    "What the¡ª"


    Before she could finish, a brilliant burst of multicolored glitter exploded from the floor beneath her, showering her from head to toe in shimmering pink, blue, and gold sparkles. The entire corridor echoed with the sharp, ringing laughter of mischievous magic, followed immediately by the horrified gasp of a young wizard standing just beyond a nearby corner.


    Saunak Carswell stared at Lykaios in wide-eyed horror, his silver-white hair turning a panicked shade of vibrant pink as he realized exactly who had sprung his carefully laid prank trap.


    "Professor¡¯s whiskers! L-Lykaios¡­ I¡ªI swear that wasn¡¯t meant for you!" Saunak stammered, stumbling backward in immediate retreat. "It¡ªit was just a harmless joke! For someone else! Someone less¡ªuh¡ªless scary!"


    Lykaios stood perfectly still, her features now glittering furiously beneath layers of sparkling powder, her expression dangerously unreadable. Slowly, she wiped a hand down her face, smearing the glitter in a way that was far more menacing than amusing. "Carswell," she said in a voice so dangerously soft that the air itself seemed to tremble, "Run."


    Saunak didn¡¯t need further encouragement. With a frantic, terrified yelp, he spun on his heel, bolting down the corridor as fast as his legs could carry him, tripping slightly as he went. "I''m sorry! Please don''t kill me!"


    Without hesitation, Lykaios began marching purposefully after him, her eyes narrowed in focused fury, the glittering trail of sparkles fluttering angrily behind her as she stormed down the hall. Yet even as she pursued her target, she turned her head briefly, eyes meeting Soya''s with an intensity that immediately silenced any urge he might have had to laugh.


    ¡°This isn''t over, Soya,¡± she shouted fiercely over her shoulder, her voice echoing ominously through the hall. ¡°When I''m done handling this pest, you and I will have words about your training!"


    Soya watched helplessly, torn between sympathy for Saunak and awe at Lykaios''s unyielding resolve. "Understood," he called after her meekly, though he wasn¡¯t sure she heard him over the sound of Saunak¡¯s frantic pleas and her own furious footsteps.


    Slowly, the commotion faded into the distance, leaving Soya standing alone in the now oddly quiet hallway, a few lingering specks of glitter still drifting gently through the air. He shook his head, a smile creeping onto his lips despite himself.


    At least life at Austramore was never dull.


    Soya continued his slow walk through the quiet corridors, a lingering, amused smile still playing at the corners of his lips. Occasionally, he glanced back over his shoulder, half-expecting to see Saunak dashing past once more, or perhaps to hear Lykaios¡¯s formidable voice echoing threats through the halls. But the corridor remained empty and peaceful, the previous chaos already fading into distant memory.


    Lost in thought, Soya almost didn¡¯t notice the soft, familiar footsteps approaching from a nearby corridor. It was only when Draven¡¯s calm, analytical voice reached him that Soya realized he was no longer alone.


    ¡°Soya,¡± Draven greeted him simply, adjusting his glasses as he fell easily into step beside his friend. ¡°You look unusually entertained. Did something interesting happen?¡±


    Soya chuckled softly, nodding as he recounted the recent event. ¡°Saunak set off one of his pranks, and unfortunately for him, Lykaios got caught in it.¡±


    Draven raised an eyebrow slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. ¡°And Saunak survived? Impressive. She must have been feeling generous today.¡±


    ¡°Generous isn¡¯t exactly the word I¡¯d use,¡± Soya replied wryly, ¡°but yes, he survived. Barely.¡±


    Draven hummed thoughtfully, clearly amused, though his expression remained characteristically composed. For a few moments, they walked together in comfortable silence, the quiet rhythm of their footsteps echoing gently off the stone walls.


    As they rounded a corner, Soya glanced curiously at Draven. ¡°So, have you thought about what you¡¯ll be doing for the holidays? You haven¡¯t mentioned much about your plans.¡±


    Draven hesitated for a brief moment, his gaze shifting to the stone floor before returning forward. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ complicated,¡± he admitted quietly, choosing his words carefully. ¡°My family isn¡¯t exactly traditional. Holidays are typically just another occasion for research or experimentation. Not much different from any other time of the year.¡±


    Soya studied him thoughtfully, sensing something more beneath his friend¡¯s vague answer. ¡°That sounds a bit lonely,¡± he ventured gently, unsure how much Draven would be comfortable sharing.


    Draven shrugged slightly, offering a faint, reassuring smile. ¡°Not really. I prefer it, actually. It allows more time for study. Though,¡± he admitted softly, a hint of warmth creeping into his normally reserved voice, ¡°I suppose this year, it might feel somewhat¡­ different.¡±


    ¡°Different how?¡± Soya prompted, genuinely curious.


    Draven glanced sideways at him, his usually detached expression softening slightly. ¡°Having friends makes things more complicated, but perhaps more interesting. I might even find myself missing company this year.¡±


    Soya smiled warmly, touched by Draven¡¯s admission. ¡°You know, Tiana is spending the holidays with me. If you want, you could¡ª¡±


    But before he could finish his thought, rapid, furious footsteps echoed sharply through the hall ahead, interrupting their conversation. Both boys stopped abruptly, turning to see Lykaios storming purposefully toward them. Her usually immaculate appearance was marred by the remaining glitter that clung stubbornly to her hair and robes, catching the light and sparkling absurdly with every angry step she took. Her eyes flashed dangerously as she closed the distance, clearly still seething from Saunak¡¯s prank.


    She stopped directly in front of Soya, fixing him with a piercing, intense stare, her arms folded tightly across her chest. ¡°We need to finish that conversation,¡± she snapped, her voice a taut, simmering mix of annoyance and determination. ¡°Now.¡±


    Draven studied her silently for a moment, eyes tracing the glitter still clinging to her robes and hair. His voice was even, calm, and entirely deadpan when he finally spoke. ¡°Lykaios, you look positively sparkling today. It¡¯s a good look for you.¡±


    Lykaios turned her head slowly toward Draven, fixing him with a gaze cold enough to freeze flames. The sheer intensity of her stare would have silenced most, but Draven met it calmly, expression unchanged. After a long, tense moment, the corner of Soya¡¯s mouth twitched uncontrollably, and a sudden laugh escaped before he could stifle it.


    Lykaios¡¯s glare snapped back to Soya, but at the sight of his genuine laughter, her fierce expression wavered. For a brief moment, she struggled to maintain her intimidating composure, then let out an irritated sigh, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. ¡°You¡¯re lucky I tolerate you, Vareen,¡± she muttered grudgingly.


    Before anyone could respond, the slow, measured footsteps of Professor Seikan Blackthorn echoed quietly down the hall. All three students fell instantly silent as he approached, his gaze cool and detached, observing the scene without betraying a single emotion.


    Seikan paused directly beside them, his sharp emerald eyes calmly assessing Lykaios. His gaze lingered deliberately on the sparkling glitter coating her robes and hair. After a moment of profound silence, he tilted his head slightly, his voice calm, measured, and filled with a subtle, restrained amusement that few could detect.


    ¡°Miss Verelle,¡± he said slowly, raising one eyebrow in polite yet pointed curiosity, ¡°you seem to be¡­ sparkling.¡±


    Lykaios¡¯s cheeks flushed faintly, and she visibly bristled, though she said nothing, maintaining her carefully controlled expression as best as she could. Seikan said nothing further, merely offering her a brief, enigmatic glance before continuing on down the corridor, his dark robes trailing silently behind him.


    As soon as he vanished around the corner, Draven finally broke the tense silence, his voice tinged with quiet amusement. ¡°Even Professor Blackthorn noticed. That¡¯s an accomplishment in itself.¡±


    Lykaios exhaled sharply, clearly irritated yet somewhat resigned. She brushed at the glitter again, making little progress, before giving up altogether. With a glare that held considerably less venom this time, she jabbed one finger pointedly toward Soya. ¡°Tomorrow morning. Early. Training. Do not be late,¡± she warned him firmly.


    Then, with one last dignified toss of her glittery ponytail, Lykaios marched away, leaving Soya and Draven standing in amused, slightly stunned silence behind her.


    Draven turned slowly toward Soya, a faint but unmistakable smile on his lips. ¡°I¡¯d say your holiday is going to be much more entertaining than mine.¡±


    Soya chuckled softly, shaking his head in agreement. ¡°You might be right about that.¡±

 Chapter 55: Soft Resistance

    Sunlight spilled gently over the Austramore courtyard, casting warm golden hues over the lush grass and the intricate stonework. Beneath the comforting shade of his favorite tree, Soya sat cross-legged, leaning against the solid trunk. His sketchbook rested comfortably in his lap, and his quill danced lightly over the pages, each stroke deliberate and careful. As always, he found solace in the quiet rhythm of his drawing, losing himself in the comforting familiarity of ink and parchment.


    A distant voice, sharp and mocking, broke through Soya¡¯s quiet concentration. Frowning slightly, he glanced up, searching the courtyard to find the source of the unpleasant sound. It wasn¡¯t long before he spotted Alara Steele¡ªa timid, gentle girl he¡¯d often seen but rarely spoken to¡ªstanding nervously near a bench. Her shoulders were hunched defensively, her soft blue eyes darting anxiously as an older student towered menacingly over her.


    Alara¡¯s usual nervous laughter was absent, replaced by a tense silence as she held her oversized jumper close, clearly uncomfortable. Her tormentor, a taller Ningaloo boy Soya vaguely recognized but couldn¡¯t name, sneered openly, leaning into her personal space with intimidating intent.


    "You really think anyone''s impressed with your bumbling, Steele?" the older boy scoffed mockingly. "I swear, every time you open your mouth, you embarrass the entire house. Maybe you should do everyone a favor and just stay quiet."


    Soya''s fingers tightened involuntarily around his quill. He watched carefully, waiting, hoping that Alara would stand up for herself, that she''d push back with a strength he knew must be hidden beneath her quiet demeanor. But instead, she merely shuffled backward slightly, her eyes wide and her cheeks burning with embarrassment.


    Soya knew that feeling¡ªhad known it far too well since starting at Austramore. He could sense Alara''s hesitation, the inward struggle to find words or even the courage to defend herself. The bully seemed encouraged by her silence, his insults growing louder, harsher, digging deeper into her vulnerability.


    He sighed softly, placing his sketchbook carefully aside. He couldn''t sit idly by, not when he knew exactly how it felt to be trapped beneath someone''s cruelty. Rising smoothly, he dusted off his robes and approached calmly, deliberately projecting confidence he didn''t entirely feel, his gentle expression hardening into quiet determination.


    The bully glanced sideways, momentarily distracted from tormenting Alara. His gaze fell dismissively on Soya, and a derisive smirk formed across his face.


    "What are you staring at, Vareen?" the boy snapped irritably, folding his arms defensively. "This doesn''t involve you. Why don¡¯t you go back to your useless scribbling?"


    Soya ignored the jab, stepping between him and Alara. His posture was steady, calm, unaffected by the sneer directed at him. "I think you''ve said enough," Soya replied evenly, meeting the older boy¡¯s stare with quiet resilience.


    "Oh, really?" The bully scoffed incredulously, a mocking edge to his voice. "And who¡¯s going to stop me? You?"


    Soya took a careful breath, keeping his voice calm and controlled. "Bullies rely on intimidation. That''s why you¡¯re yelling. Because if you spoke quietly, no one would listen to you. You pick on people who won¡¯t talk back because you''re afraid of someone stronger noticing."


    The older student''s expression faltered for a split second, anger flickering across his features, mixed with surprise. "What did you just say?"


    Soya kept his voice soft, unwavering. "I said, if you really felt secure about yourself, you wouldn''t waste your time harassing someone who can''t fight back. You''re afraid, and you know it."


    A few curious onlookers had already begun to take notice, turning their heads subtly to watch the exchange. The bully glanced around, suddenly aware of the attention, his bravado faltering under the gentle yet pointed truth in Soya¡¯s words.


    He sneered again, though now it seemed forced, weaker. "Whatever. Neither of you losers are worth my time," he muttered angrily, turning on his heel and stomping off toward the castle, his steps faster and less confident than before.


    Soya exhaled slowly, his heart pounding softly in his chest, relieved that his gamble had paid off. He turned around slowly, his expression softening as he faced Alara.


    She was staring at him, wide-eyed, her mouth slightly agape. Her cheeks were still flushed, but the tension in her posture had eased considerably. "Blimey, mate," she finally whispered, a shaky, grateful smile spreading across her lips, the thick Aussie accent heavy in her voice. "I reckon ya proper saved me from that drongo. Didn¡¯t know ya had it in ya, Vareen."


    Soya offered her a gentle smile in return, shrugging modestly. "I''ve had a lot of practice," he admitted quietly, glancing briefly back toward the castle. "People like that¡ªthey¡¯re all talk. You just need to remind them they¡¯re not as strong as they think."


    Alara laughed softly, the familiar whistle evident in the sound, genuine warmth shining in her eyes. "Well, reckon I owe ya one," she said shyly, tugging nervously at her oversized jumper again. "Maybe I can repay ya sometime."


    Soya shook his head gently, the warmth returning to his smile. "No need. Just¡­don''t let people like that make you feel small. You''re stronger than you think."


    She blushed slightly but nodded earnestly, gratitude clear in her eyes. "Cheers, Soya. Means heaps to hear that."


    Soya returned her nod, a quiet sense of satisfaction settling in his chest as he walked back toward his spot beneath the tree. He settled once more, picking up his sketchbook and glancing toward the page. Yet this time, he found himself smiling softly, feeling lighter and warmer.


    Maybe standing up wasn''t always easy, but every now and then, he could make a real


    The peace of the courtyard returned once more, settling quietly around Soya like a comforting embrace. He sank back into his familiar spot beneath the tree, the tension from the confrontation earlier slowly fading away. With a gentle sigh, he flipped open his sketchbook again, his fingers finding their place easily as he resumed drawing.


    For a few tranquil minutes, the courtyard remained quiet except for the soft whispering of leaves above and the gentle scratch of Soya''s quill against parchment. His focus returned effortlessly, the world around him fading into comforting obscurity as he let himself become absorbed by the lines and curves forming beneath his fingertips.


    Yet, the serenity was softly interrupted once again¡ªthis time not by conflict, but by quiet footsteps approaching hesitantly across the grass. Soya paused mid-stroke, glancing up curiously to find Manaya Moon standing a short distance away, watching him with a thoughtful, slightly uncertain expression.


    Manaya''s long brown hair was characteristically untamed, framing her gentle features in wild, loose strands. Her hazel eyes shifted subtly between green and brown as they often did, and for a moment, they locked onto his, filled with quiet uncertainty. Soya knew her only distantly¡ªthey had exchanged occasional nods and polite greetings, but rarely anything more. She was quiet, reserved, and often seemed hesitant to approach others directly. Usually, when Manaya appeared at this spot and saw him beneath the tree, she simply turned and found another place to sit, unwilling to disturb him.


    But today, she stood her ground, drawing in a small breath and offering him a tentative, gentle smile. "Hi," she said softly, her voice calm but carrying a gentle confidence he hadn''t noticed before. "Mind if I join you today?"


    Surprised but pleased, Soya returned her smile warmly, nodding and gesturing to the grass beside him. "Of course. It''s a big tree¡ªplenty of shade for both of us."


    Manaya¡¯s smile grew a little more relaxed as she settled quietly beside him, pulling her knees gently to her chest as she rested her back against the sturdy trunk. A comfortable silence stretched between them for a few moments, the distant rustling of leaves the only sound breaking the stillness.


    Soya continued sketching quietly, aware of Manaya''s presence beside him but not at all disturbed by it. The quiet felt peaceful, natural. After several more moments, Manaya glanced sideways at his sketchbook, clearly intrigued.


    "You¡¯re really talented," she murmured softly, watching as lines formed effortlessly into intricate patterns on the parchment. "I''ve seen you sketching before, but never this close. It''s beautiful."


    Soya flushed slightly at the unexpected compliment, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Thanks," he replied softly, genuinely grateful for her quiet appreciation. "It''s something I''ve always done, even before coming here."


    She hesitated for a moment, carefully choosing her words before gently asking, "What was it like? You know¡­ before Austramore. In the Muggle world?"


    Soya''s quill paused briefly, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. "Different," he admitted softly. "Much simpler, in some ways. Magic changes everything¡ªmostly for the better, but it''s still¡­ confusing sometimes."


    Manaya tilted her head slightly, curiosity shining gently in her shifting eyes. "Do you ever miss it?"


    "Sometimes," Soya admitted quietly, glancing away for a moment, lost briefly in thought. "It''s where I grew up¡ªit''s familiar. But Austramore feels right too. Even with all its challenges, I feel¡­ I don''t know, like this is where I''m supposed to be."


    Manaya nodded slowly, understanding reflected warmly in her quiet gaze. "I''m glad," she murmured softly. "I wondered how you''d cope here. Everyone talks about you being special, being the first Muggle-born student in centuries¡­ That''s a lot of pressure for anyone, let alone a first-year."


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Soya smiled shyly, his cheeks flushing faintly again. "I try not to think about it too much," he confessed quietly. "I never asked to be special. I''d rather just be¡­ myself."


    Manaya watched him thoughtfully, a gentle warmth radiating from her soft expression. "Well, if it helps¡­ you seem to be handling it better than most purebloods would. People notice you, you know¡ªnot because you''re Muggle-born, but because you treat everyone with kindness. It''s¡­ refreshing."


    Soya laughed softly, embarrassed but genuinely touched by her kind words. "Thanks, Manaya. That means a lot."


    Another quiet silence settled comfortably between them, the sun casting gentle shadows as it slowly moved across the courtyard. Eventually, Manaya leaned her head gently against the tree, her voice barely above a whisper as she spoke again, this time hesitant, shyly curious.


    "Do you ever worry people won''t accept you here? Because you''re different?"


    Soya paused, gazing thoughtfully into the distance for a moment before answering. "Sometimes. But I think¡­ we''re all different, in our own ways. I''m just learning that it isn''t always bad. Different can mean special. It can mean finding your own path."


    Manaya smiled gently, the tension visibly easing from her posture as she absorbed his words. "I like that," she said softly. "Finding your own path."


    Soya glanced sideways at her, returning her gentle smile. "You seem to have your own path too," he observed quietly. "I''ve noticed you tend to keep to yourself a lot."


    Her expression turned shy again, a hint of guardedness creeping back into her voice as she murmured, "It''s easier that way sometimes. I''m not always¡­ good with people."


    Soya shook his head gently, offering a reassuring smile. "You''re easy to talk to, Manaya. People would see that if you let them."


    She blushed lightly, but a quiet smile warmed her features once more. "Thanks, Soya."


    Together they sat, enjoying the calm of the courtyard and the quiet comfort of gentle company. For the first time in what felt like ages, Soya felt a deep, sincere gratitude that despite all its mysteries and struggles, Austramore had led him to meet people like Manaya¡ªpeople who could understand the quiet struggles he carried, without needing them to be fully explained.


    Perhaps, he thought gently, feeling at ease, finding one''s place wasn''t so much about fitting into what others expected, but discovering who you were meant to become.


    The comfortable silence lingered pleasantly between Soya and Manaya, allowing the two of them to simply sit and enjoy the peaceful afternoon beneath the sprawling tree. The gentle breeze carried faint scents from the surrounding gardens, and the rhythmic rustling of leaves above felt oddly comforting, like nature itself had granted them a rare moment of peace.


    Soya continued sketching, occasionally glancing up to offer a quiet smile to Manaya, who seemed content to simply watch the movement of his quill. But their shared tranquility was disrupted as measured footsteps echoed softly across the courtyard''s stone path, each step unmistakably purposeful.


    They both turned their heads almost simultaneously, eyes falling upon the familiar tall figure of Professor Seikan Blackthorn. His emerald gaze, intense and unyielding as always, met theirs briefly before coming to rest squarely on Manaya. His expression betrayed little beyond his usual disciplined composure, yet Soya sensed there was something deeper behind the professor''s carefully maintained mask¡ªan unusual sense of urgency, carefully concealed behind controlled stoicism.


    "Miss Moon," Seikan spoke calmly, his voice clear and cool, yet carrying an undertone of gentle authority. "A word, if you would."


    Manaya hesitated only a moment, exchanging a brief, somewhat tense glance with Soya before rising gracefully from her spot beneath the tree. Her earlier relaxed demeanor had faded slightly, replaced by a quiet nervousness that she masked quickly. She brushed some grass from her robes and walked toward Seikan, who stood a few feet away, awaiting her patiently.


    Soya watched them curiously, still sitting with his sketchbook in hand, not wanting to intrude but unable to quell the small wave of curiosity bubbling within him. It was unusual for Professor Blackthorn to approach a student like this¡ªat least, it seemed unusual to Soya. The potions master rarely sought students out in public, much less students he wasn¡¯t particularly known to interact with frequently.


    Seikan leaned down slightly to speak to Manaya, his voice lowering just enough that their conversation drifted out of earshot. Soya strained subtly to hear their words, but only quiet murmurs reached him, carried away by the gentle breeze. Manaya nodded occasionally, her expression somber, her usual quiet confidence now shadowed with an edge of seriousness.


    Then, just as Soya was about to give up trying to decipher the indistinct murmurs, a fragment of their conversation floated gently across the courtyard to him¡ªProfessor Blackthorn''s voice distinct and clear for just a brief instant.


    "¡­you hadn¡¯t come for your elixir yet," he stated quietly, a gentle reprimand threaded carefully into his calm tone. "You know perfectly well what tonight is, Miss Moon."


    The words sent a small shiver down Soya¡¯s spine, an unexpected chill creeping across his skin despite the warmth of the sunlit courtyard. What elixir? And what exactly was tonight? He knew it wasn''t any of his business, but the exchange left him quietly unsettled nonetheless, curiosity gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.


    Manaya merely nodded solemnly, her posture slightly stiffening. She glanced back toward Soya for a fleeting moment, offering a quiet, apologetic smile before quickly turning back to Professor Blackthorn.


    "Sorry, Professor," she murmured softly, her voice too quiet for Soya to fully hear, though the apology was evident in her body language. "I''ll come right now."


    Seikan nodded once, his features softening subtly¡ªa rare display of quiet reassurance from a professor usually defined by cool detachment. Together, Manaya and Professor Blackthorn turned and walked away, their footsteps gradually fading across the stone path, leaving Soya once more beneath the quiet shade of his tree, alone.


    He watched them disappear into the castle, a thoughtful expression settling over his features. There was something about Manaya that was deeply private, something quietly guarded that he¡¯d always respected without prying into. But now, seeing her taken aside like this by the potions professor, he couldn''t help but wonder about the secrets she carried.


    With a small sigh, he shook his head slightly, pulling his gaze away from the castle entrance. Whatever it was, it wasn''t his place to pry. After all, he understood better than most the comfort of quiet secrets¡ªand the necessity, sometimes, of keeping them.


    Once again, solitude settled comfortably around Soya, like a familiar cloak he hadn''t worn in a long time. The gentle breeze whispered softly through the leaves overhead, and with no one nearby to distract him, he could finally return his full attention to his sketchbook. His fingers tightened lightly around his quill as he breathed slowly, recalling Professor Blackthorn¡¯s careful instructions about his ink magic.


    "Clear your mind," Seikan had told him, voice soft but firm, full of authority yet strangely comforting. "Your magic is alive, responsive to your emotions. Focus on what you wish to create¡ªhold that thought firmly. Guide the magic, don¡¯t let it control you."


    Soya closed his eyes briefly, centering himself, steadying his breathing. He let the gentle quiet of the courtyard calm his mind, feeling the warmth of the sun filtering through the canopy above. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze focused sharply on the blank parchment. He envisioned clearly in his mind a single, perfect flower¡ªa soft bloom with gently layered petals and delicate leaves.


    He began drawing, the tip of his quill gliding gracefully across the paper. Each stroke came effortlessly, guided not just by his hand, but by an instinct he was slowly learning to understand. With every line, every subtle shift in direction, he could feel the gentle hum of magic resonating through his fingertips.


    The image of the flower took shape swiftly, flowing naturally from his hand in smooth, confident strokes. But Soya did not stop there¡ªhe channeled the warmth and quiet joy he felt, pouring the emotion gently into the drawing. He could feel the magic responding, his heartbeat quickening with quiet excitement as the lines darkened, shimmering slightly beneath his touch.


    ¡°Just a little more,¡± he whispered quietly to himself, urging the magic forward gently but firmly. "Come on, you can do this."


    Then suddenly, as if responding directly to his soft encouragement, the flower moved. It twitched slightly at first, the petals quivering like they¡¯d been brushed by a faint breeze. Soya held his breath, watching with wide-eyed fascination as the ink lifted ever so slightly off the parchment, gradually shaping into something more substantial. Petals shifted and stretched, delicate and vibrant, blossoming beautifully into a living flower right before his eyes.


    A genuine smile spread slowly across Soya¡¯s lips, wonderment and joy bubbling up inside his chest. He had done it. For the first time, his ink magic hadn¡¯t turned chaotic or unpredictable¡ªhe had created something purposeful, beautiful. And most importantly, controlled.


    Quickly, driven by a sudden instinctive urge, Soya reached out and gently grasped the flower, pulling it from the page before the magic could fade. It came away effortlessly, smooth and weightless in his fingers. He stared at it, astonished and mesmerized, turning it slowly to admire every delicate detail, every silky petal. It felt real, warm, alive in his hands.


    Footsteps drew him out of his awe-filled reverie, and he glanced up quickly to find Manaya returning toward him. Her expression was softer now, more relaxed, her previous tension evidently resolved by whatever had passed between her and Professor Blackthorn. Her eyes widened curiously as she approached, clearly noticing the flower that Soya now held awkwardly.


    ¡°Oh,¡± she murmured softly, stopping beside him and tilting her head slightly, eyes shining with curiosity and surprise. ¡°That flower is gorgeous, Soya¡ªwhere did you get it?¡±


    His pulse quickened nervously, suddenly aware of how strange this might look to someone else. He felt the warmth creeping into his cheeks and quickly scrambled internally for an explanation. How could he even begin to explain what he''d just done, something even he barely understood?


    He hesitated for just a moment, then¡ªdeciding that it was easier than attempting an explanation¡ªhe offered a small, shy smile and held the flower out to her gently.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ for you,¡± he said quietly, the warmth in his cheeks intensifying as soon as the words left his lips.


    Manaya stared at him for a moment, clearly taken aback, her expression shifting from surprise to a quiet, gentle delight. A faint blush touched her cheeks, and she reached out slowly, almost reverently, to accept the flower from his outstretched hand. Her fingertips brushed softly against his for just a brief moment, sending a jolt of warmth through his chest.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she whispered softly, her voice quiet and sincere. Her eyes met his briefly, filled with shy gratitude and something else¡ªsomething deeper, almost hopeful. She hesitated only briefly before lifting the flower to her hair, carefully slipping it just behind her ear, allowing its petals to nestle gently amongst her wild curls.


    ¡°It suits you,¡± Soya said softly, surprising himself with his own boldness. But it was true; the flower fit her perfectly, accentuating the gentle, quiet strength she carried so effortlessly.


    Manaya¡¯s blush deepened, though she didn¡¯t look away. Instead, she smiled warmly, her eyes brightening subtly as she studied him thoughtfully.


    ¡°That''s very sweet of you,¡± she murmured quietly, a faint smile playing at her lips. "You''re always so kind, Soya."


    He ducked his head bashfully, embarrassment mingling with a quiet warmth in his chest. "It''s nothing, really," he insisted softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. But inwardly, he felt strangely contented, glad to see her smiling.


    As Manaya settled beside him again beneath the comforting shade of the tree, neither of them spoke. She simply sat quietly, a soft, private smile on her lips, her fingers occasionally brushing gently against the flower tucked in her hair.


    She didn''t say it out loud, but the warmth in her eyes as she glanced occasionally at Soya was unmistakable¡ªher quiet heart had begun to wonder if perhaps the kind, thoughtful boy beside her was trying to say something more meaningful than words alone could express.


    And as they sat quietly together in peaceful silence, Soya¡¯s own heart felt a gentle stirring¡ªuncertain, hopeful, and deeply comforting all at once.

 Chapter 56: Costumed Hearts

    Morning broke gently across Austramore, the first golden rays of sunlight spilling through the tall windows of the dormitories. A palpable buzz of excitement rippled throughout the castle, mingling with the scent of freshly baked bread and sizzling bacon drifting enticingly up from the Great Hall. Today was no ordinary day; it was the long-awaited cosplay event¡ªthe one day when students and professors alike would set aside their usual robes and uniforms, embracing characters from wizarding literature and magical history.


    In the Thylacea dormitory, Soya sat nervously on the edge of his bed, staring at the costume neatly laid out before him. Beside him, Inkwell stretched lazily, yawning wide enough to reveal her tiny, sharp teeth, before padding curiously toward the strange garments. Soya chuckled softly, gently lifting the kitten into his lap as he examined his chosen outfit. The enchanted cat ears rested lightly beside a sleek, dark jacket, fitted trousers, and soft gloves. He''d felt silly choosing such a costume, yet strangely, there was a quiet excitement buzzing in his chest.


    Across the room, Davonte was already energetically pulling on his knightly armor¡ªclumsy and enthusiastic as always. The metallic pieces rattled loudly, echoing in the confined space, drawing amused, albeit slightly irritated glances from Draven. The latter had opted for the sophisticated robes of a former Ministry head, and his expression, while calm, clearly conveyed mild annoyance at Davonte¡¯s noisy preparations.


    ¡°Davonte,¡± Draven remarked dryly, adjusting the cuffs of his long robes meticulously, ¡°must you sound like an entire blacksmith¡¯s workshop every time you move?¡±


    Davonte laughed brightly, the booming sound echoing off the stone walls as he adjusted his armored gauntlets. ¡°A true knight,¡± he proclaimed dramatically, ¡°is never quiet, my friend! And besides, it sounds far more impressive this way.¡±


    Draven merely raised an eyebrow, a faint smile betraying his amusement despite himself. Soya couldn¡¯t help but grin as well, feeling some of his anxiety slip away with the familiar warmth of his friends¡¯ interactions. Carefully, he placed Inkwell down on the bed again and began pulling on his own costume, the enchanted cat ears twitching slightly as soon as he placed them atop his head. He felt a little foolish, but remembering Sage¡¯s quiet agreement to match him had bolstered his confidence.


    As if summoned by Soya¡¯s thoughts, Sage emerged from behind his curtained bed, moving quietly yet deliberately. His cheeks held the slightest hint of a blush, betraying embarrassment he refused to verbally acknowledge. The costume he¡¯d chosen was a surprising combination of cute and fierce¡ªa dark jacket trimmed in silver thread, subtly accented by leather gloves and trousers that matched his cat ears. His normally indifferent expression faltered slightly when his gaze met Soya¡¯s, lingering briefly on the matching ears they both wore.


    ¡°Looks good on you,¡± Soya offered softly, smiling encouragingly.


    Sage looked away quickly, muttering quietly under his breath, but the faint blush on his cheeks deepened noticeably. ¡°You too,¡± he finally murmured, barely audible.


    Across the room, Davonte paused dramatically mid-motion, suddenly noticing Sage and Soya¡¯s matching attire. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, clearly not having expected Sage of all people to embrace the whimsical costume so willingly. But rather than make a teasing comment, Davonte simply raised an eyebrow, nodded approvingly, and returned his attention to adjusting his gleaming armor. Even Davonte knew better than to provoke Sage too early in the morning.


    The group finished getting ready quietly, each student double-checking their costumes before heading toward the common room. As they descended the stairs, they found Tiana and Kalsei already waiting for them. Tiana stood tall and elegant in her exquisite historical witch costume, the delicate embroidery shimmering gently with subtle enchantments, her poise effortlessly matching the refined dignity of the witch she portrayed. Beside her, Kalsei practically bounced with excitement, his vibrant cat-boy outfit accented by cheerful streaks of teal and pink in his hair, his ears twitching playfully with every eager movement.


    ¡°You guys look amazing!¡± Kalsei called happily, rushing forward to admire everyone''s choices. His gaze lingered longest on Sage and Soya, delight clearly written across his expressive features. ¡°Especially you two¡ªadorable doesn¡¯t even begin to describe it!¡±


    Sage¡¯s expression darkened immediately, his mouth opening sharply to respond¡ªbut before he could retort, Soya nudged him lightly with an elbow, shooting him a pleading look. Sage scowled briefly, then exhaled slowly, settling for simply rolling his eyes in resigned annoyance. Kalsei beamed obliviously, already turning to fuss over Davonte¡¯s armor.


    With everyone finally ready, the small group made their way down to the Great Hall, laughter and cheerful conversation echoing through the castle corridors. Around them, other students dressed in an array of vibrant costumes spilled from dormitories and corridors, filling the hallways with color, excitement, and the gentle hum of joyful anticipation.


    Upon reaching the Great Hall, Soya¡¯s eyes widened slightly at the scene before him. Students from every house filled the tables, chattering happily as they admired each other''s costumes. Professors seated at the staff table wore elaborate outfits themselves, each embracing their character with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Boromus himself stood at the podium at the head of the hall, grinning broadly beneath a flamboyant wizard hat and brightly embroidered robes.


    ¡°Welcome, students!¡± the headmaster boomed jovially, spreading his arms dramatically to encompass the entire hall. ¡°Today is a celebration¡ªa chance for us to embrace creativity, imagination, and perhaps a little mischief.¡± His eyes twinkled mischievously as he continued. ¡°Enjoy your breakfast, and most importantly¡ªenjoy yourselves!¡±


    Cheers echoed loudly across the Great Hall, laughter and excited conversation immediately filling the air once more. Soya smiled quietly to himself, feeling a warmth he couldn¡¯t quite explain settle gently in his chest. Despite all the challenges and difficulties he¡¯d faced, moments like these reminded him that Austramore had given him something he¡¯d never known before¡ªa place he truly belonged, surrounded by friends who cared about him deeply.


    As they took their seats at the Thylacea table, Tiana leaned in quietly toward Soya, whispering softly enough that only he could hear.


    ¡°Thank you for letting me join you for the holidays,¡± she murmured, her voice sincere and gently grateful. ¡°I¡¯m really looking forward to seeing your home.¡±


    Soya smiled warmly, glancing briefly at his friends, their laughter and warmth filling him with quiet contentment. ¡°You¡¯re always welcome, Tiana,¡± he replied softly, genuinely happy she would be spending the break with him. ¡°It''ll be good to share it with you.¡±


    Together, surrounded by warmth, laughter, and the comforting presence of friends, Soya found himself genuinely looking forward to the day ahead. No matter what lay ahead in the future, he knew moments like these¡ªsimple, joyful, and full of hope¡ªwere ones he would always treasure.


    Breakfast had come and gone amidst laughter, chatter, and the vibrant swirl of costumes. When it finally came time to head to their first class of the day, Potions with Professor Blackthorn, anticipation buzzed through Soya and his friends¡ªthough perhaps not entirely for the lesson itself. Word had spread quickly that Boromus had personally selected the costumes for several professors, and none were as eagerly discussed as Professor Seikan Blackthorn¡¯s.


    Soya, Davonte, Draven, Tiana, Kalsei, and Sage walked together down the winding stone staircases and candlelit corridors, each quietly speculating on what they might find when they reached the dungeon classroom. Davonte enthusiastically led the way, the heavy metallic clanking of his knight armor echoing through the halls, turning the heads of passing students.


    When the group reached the Potions classroom and filed inside, it took every ounce of their collective self-control to keep from openly gaping at the sight that greeted them. There stood Seikan Blackthorn¡ªPotions Master and embodiment of stern, icy authority¡ªdressed in flowing emerald-green robes trimmed with gold and silver embroidery, clearly meant to represent a legendary sorcerer from wizarding lore. To complete the dramatic effect, Boromus had even provided a tall, ornate wizard¡¯s hat that rested atop Seikan¡¯s raven-black hair, looking oddly dignified despite the obvious discomfort reflected in the professor''s narrowed eyes.


    Professor Blackthorn stood rigidly behind his desk, his expression unreadable, though the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed restrained annoyance. He waited silently as the class settled into their seats, his emerald eyes scanning the room with quiet, disciplined intensity.


    Davonte elbowed Soya lightly, eyes glittering with suppressed amusement, and whispered softly, "Who knew Professor Blackthorn could pull off the legendary Merlin so well?"


    Soya struggled to maintain his composure, biting his lip to keep from laughing aloud. Sage sat beside him, seemingly torn between mortification and quiet amusement at seeing his usually intimidating father in such a flamboyant costume. But no one dared to voice their amusement too openly¡ªnot in front of the professor who had long mastered the art of silence and stern gazes.


    Once the students had quieted, Seikan cleared his throat sharply, his voice cool, controlled, and carrying a faintly menacing edge that made everyone instantly attentive. "I understand today is a celebration of... creative attire," he began dryly, his gaze sweeping across the room, daring anyone to comment. "But I assure you all, it will not excuse poor concentration or sloppy work. Potions demand precision, costume or not."


    A respectful silence fell across the class, broken only by Davonte''s muffled chuckle, hastily disguised as a cough when the professor''s sharp gaze landed on him.


    "Today," Seikan continued, choosing to pointedly ignore Davonte''s outburst, "we will be brewing a common sleeping draught¡ªsimple enough to make, yet potent enough to warrant caution. It is imperative that you follow my instructions precisely."


    With a swift flick of his wand, Seikan revealed the instructions carefully written on the board, each step detailed in his flawless script. He began pacing slowly along the rows of cauldrons, his wizard robes swishing dramatically with each step.


    "Begin by carefully crushing your valerian root. Grind it too roughly, and you risk weakening the potion¡¯s potency," he instructed coolly. "Once the valerian root is adequately prepared, add precisely three measures of powdered lavender. Precision is everything. Do not disappoint me."


    The students set immediately to work, carefully measuring, grinding, and mixing ingredients, fully aware that beneath the unusual attire, Seikan Blackthorn was still very much himself¡ªunforgiving, exacting, and exceptionally skilled. Even in his flamboyant robes and hat, he commanded respect without uttering a word.


    As they worked, Sage leaned subtly toward Soya, his voice barely audible, "I can''t decide if my father is going to hex the headmaster or simply die of embarrassment by day''s end."


    Soya smiled faintly, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on his cauldron as he gently stirred the simmering potion. "My bet''s on the hex," he replied softly. "Though honestly, I never imagined Professor Blackthorn could look so... wizardly."


    Sage snorted quietly, rolling his eyes in feigned irritation, though his lips twitched slightly upward.


    As the lesson progressed, Seikan paced methodically, pausing occasionally to observe, correct, or quietly praise. His gaze fell briefly upon Sage and Soya¡¯s table, noting their work. With the smallest nod of approval, he murmured quietly, "Excellent. Remember to maintain your heat¡ªsteady hands produce steady results."


    The two boys nodded immediately, focusing even harder on their potions. Beside them, Davonte cursed softly under his breath, glaring down into his own cauldron, which was emitting a disturbingly pungent aroma rather than the subtle sweetness described in the instructions.


    Professor Blackthorn stopped abruptly in front of Davonte¡¯s cauldron, his emerald eyes narrowing sharply as he inspected the bubbling liquid. "Mr. Evander," he drawled coldly, his voice dripping with exasperation, "unless you wish to send your peers into a permanent slumber, I suggest you begin again."


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    Davonte flushed slightly, quickly nodding. "Yes, Professor," he mumbled, hastily extinguishing the fire beneath his cauldron, much to Sage and Soya¡¯s concealed amusement.


    As the lesson slowly drew to a close, a quiet satisfaction settled over the classroom. Most potions shimmered gently with the appropriate pale blue hue, indicating success. Even Davonte¡¯s second attempt yielded an acceptable potion, earning him a grudging nod from Seikan.


    As students carefully bottled their sleeping draughts, Seikan stood at the front of the class once more, robes swirling slightly around his feet. He regarded them all with a measured, assessing gaze. "Despite certain... distractions," he began, his voice carrying clear implication, "the majority of you managed to produce adequate results. Remember, potions require discipline. Celebrate all you wish today¡ªbut do not lose sight of your responsibilities."


    With a brief wave of his hand, he dismissed the class, immediately turning away to adjust the tall wizard¡¯s hat with clear distaste. As they exited the room, Davonte leaned toward Soya, chuckling under his breath.


    "I don''t know about you, but I¡¯m ready to get to Charms class," Davonte whispered with a grin. "I heard Professor Coorong is dressed as a magical jester, and I¡¯m dying to see it."


    Soya laughed quietly, glancing back over his shoulder just once at Professor Blackthorn, who stood rigidly, inspecting his reflection in a small mirror with thinly veiled annoyance. He couldn''t help but smile softly¡ªAustramore was certainly proving to be full of surprises.


    As the group exited the potions classroom and ascended from the dungeons, laughter and animated conversation filled the corridors, echoing off the stone walls. The buzz from their morning Potions lesson with Professor Blackthorn lingered, but all thoughts quickly turned toward their next class: Charms. Anticipation fluttered in Soya¡¯s chest as they approached Professor Coorong¡¯s classroom, each of them curious to see just how elaborate their famously theatrical professor¡¯s costume would be.


    They stepped into the classroom and immediately froze, amusement and awe blending into incredulous grins across each of their faces. Professor Jasper Coorong stood at the front of the room in vibrant, wildly-colored robes of gold, purple, and crimson, each hue shimmering and shifting with every small movement. Tiny silver bells jingled merrily from his sleeves and hem, and perched jauntily upon his head was a feathered jester¡¯s cap, its colors continuously morphing and sparkling under the classroom¡¯s enchanted lights.


    ¡°Welcome, students!¡± Professor Coorong greeted cheerfully, flourishing his wand dramatically with a theatrical bow. ¡°On this wondrous day of whimsy and imagination, why not embrace a bit of playful charm in our studies as well?¡±


    Davonte¡¯s grin widened as he nudged Draven excitedly. ¡°I knew Professor Coorong would deliver,¡± he whispered eagerly, his eyes sparkling with delight. Draven merely offered a faintly amused look, though even he couldn¡¯t entirely suppress his enjoyment at their professor¡¯s infectious energy.


    ¡°Now, gather ¡¯round,¡± Professor Coorong called joyfully, beckoning them all forward with a sweep of his arm. ¡°Today, we will explore the delightful and practical charm, Avis. Perfect for celebrations, messages, or merely brightening someone''s day by conjuring a delightful flock of birds!¡±


    He gave another exuberant flourish of his wand, crying cheerfully, ¡°Avis!¡± Instantly, a flurry of small, brilliantly colored birds burst forth from the tip of his wand, twittering melodically as they danced through the air around him. The classroom filled with awed murmurs and soft laughter as the tiny birds fluttered overhead, their feathers glittering faintly under the enchanted lights.


    Soya smiled broadly, eyes sparkling with delight as one of the tiny birds landed momentarily on his shoulder, chirping pleasantly before taking flight again. Beside him, Kalsei clapped his hands excitedly, his enchanted cat ears twitching with pure excitement. Tiana watched the birds thoughtfully, clearly intrigued, while Sage observed quietly, expressionless as always, though his eyes betrayed a hint of curiosity.


    Professor Coorong dismissed his summoned birds with a gentle flick of his wand, and they dissolved into soft sparks of golden light, scattering beautifully into the air. ¡°As you can see,¡± he declared brightly, ¡°the Avis charm is as enchanting as it is practical. A perfect harmony of magical finesse and creativity.¡±


    ¡°Now, it¡¯s your turn! Remember¡ªclear pronunciation, fluid wand movement, and intent are essential. Let your imaginations guide you!¡±


    The students eagerly raised their wands, murmuring quietly to themselves as they practiced the gentle wand movements. Davonte, predictably, was among the first to enthusiastically attempt the spell, boldly declaring, ¡°Avis!¡± A small explosion of colorful feathers shot from his wand, showering Sage and Draven, who exchanged looks of exasperation mixed with mild amusement.


    Professor Coorong laughed heartily, patting Davonte¡¯s armored shoulder reassuringly. ¡°A valiant attempt, Mr. Evander! Perhaps with slightly less force next time?¡±


    Davonte grinned sheepishly, brushing stray feathers from his armor, while Soya chuckled softly, carefully practicing the precise wand movements Professor Coorong demonstrated.


    ¡°Avis,¡± Soya said gently, and immediately, a delicate trio of birds emerged from the tip of his wand, swirling gracefully upward before settling on his outstretched arm. He blinked, surprised yet pleased, and glanced around to see Professor Coorong beaming proudly at him.


    ¡°Marvelous control, Mr. Vareen!¡± the professor praised brightly. ¡°Precisely executed¡ªjust as I expected from you!¡±


    Soya flushed lightly under the attention, but smiled gratefully. Nearby, Sage watched silently, carefully absorbing the interaction. He drew his wand slowly, his expression tight with focus and determination. After quietly murmuring the incantation, a handful of birds fluttered tentatively from his wand tip, flapping hesitantly before quickly dispersing into the air.


    Professor Coorong nodded approvingly, clapping gently. ¡°Well done, Mr. Blackthorn. A strong start¡ªconfidence will strengthen their forms and their flight.¡±


    Sage¡¯s gaze flickered toward Soya, catching the subtle nod of encouragement he offered. Sage quickly looked away, though a faint, barely noticeable smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.


    As the lesson continued, laughter and delighted murmurs filled the room as students refined their charms. Tiana conjured beautifully elegant birds that circled gracefully, Kalsei giggled as his birds playfully danced around his head, and Draven summoned precise, disciplined formations of birds, directing them methodically with quiet satisfaction.


    Davonte eventually mastered a softer approach, managing a small flock that flitted gently around him rather than exploding outward. Professor Coorong cheered enthusiastically, praising the class for their efforts and progress. Soon, the air was thick with fluttering wings and cheerful chirping, transforming the classroom into a mesmerizing scene of magical creativity.


    As the class began to wind down, Professor Coorong clapped his hands gently, his bells tinkling merrily as he called for their attention. ¡°Truly exceptional work today!¡± he announced warmly, his eyes bright with pride and excitement. ¡°You¡¯ve all embraced today¡¯s spirit beautifully¡ªremember, imagination and creativity are just as vital as skill and precision when it comes to charms!¡±


    He waved his wand once more, the conjured birds dissolving gently into sparks of vibrant color that danced gracefully toward the ceiling. ¡°You are all dismissed! And remember¡ªcarry today¡¯s joy and creativity with you always.¡±


    The students gathered their belongings, still buzzing with excitement from the charms lesson. As they filed out, Professor Coorong stood smiling brightly, his robes and cap sparkling gently in farewell.


    As Soya and his friends exited into the hallway, Davonte chuckled to himself, shaking his head. ¡°Today¡¯s classes are turning out to be way more entertaining than I imagined,¡± he said cheerfully.


    Soya smiled softly, nodding in agreement. ¡°It¡¯s certainly memorable.¡±


    Around them, the corridors buzzed happily with the chatter of excited students, their voices filled with laughter and good-natured teasing about costumes and lessons alike. And as they continued onward, anticipation grew for what the rest of the day would bring¡ªeach moment offering a new opportunity for surprise, laughter, and perhaps even a little magic they hadn''t yet imagined.


    As the golden sun sank behind the horizon, painting Austramore¡¯s towers in hues of amber and lavender, excitement and anticipation filled the halls. The earlier hours of classes and laughter had given way to eager whispers and hurried preparations for the evening¡¯s festivities. By the time the students began trickling back into the Great Hall, the room had transformed completely.


    Thousands of enchanted candles hovered gracefully in mid-air, bathing the entire hall in warm, flickering light. The ceiling above displayed the deepening night sky, glittering gently with stars, while colorful banners representing each house draped majestically from the walls. Tables lined the edges of the hall, filled with trays of sweets, savory treats, and refreshments. At the far end, a space had been cleared for dancing, where lively magical music already drifted softly through the air, waiting to welcome the students onto the floor.


    Soya entered with Davonte, Draven, Tiana, Kalsei, and Sage, their costumes still pristine and vibrant after the day''s lessons. Kalsei bounced on his heels in excitement, his cat ears twitching happily, while Davonte adjusted his knightly armor with exaggerated dignity. Tiana stood poised and graceful, her elegant witch¡¯s robes drawing admiring glances, and Draven quietly observed the hall with his usual understated interest.


    Sage lingered just behind them, his expression carefully neutral, though he subconsciously reached up to touch the soft cat ears atop his head, still adjusting to the playful costume. Soya glanced back and offered a reassuring smile, earning a subtle, grateful nod from Sage.


    Once everyone had gathered, the buzz of conversation dimmed as Boromus Spellchecker stepped forward onto the small platform at the head of the hall. His eccentric robes shimmered softly, embroidered with what appeared to be moving constellations and galaxies¡ªa fitting tribute to the night''s celebration of creativity and magic.


    ¡°Good evening, students!¡± he began warmly, his voice carrying gently throughout the Great Hall. His eyes twinkled kindly as he gazed out at the colorful assembly of students, each wearing their chosen costumes with varying levels of pride, embarrassment, or amusement. ¡°I must say, I have seen extraordinary creativity and imagination today¡ªand perhaps even a hint of courage, particularly among certain professors.¡± He paused, casting a subtle glance toward Professor Blackthorn, who remained composed and stoic at the edge of the gathering, though the smallest sigh escaped him.


    Light laughter rippled through the crowd, and Boromus continued, raising his hands slightly to regain quiet. ¡°Tonight is a celebration of more than just costumes and whimsy; it is a celebration of each of you, of your growth, your achievements, and your friendships forged within these halls. As this year draws to a close, we celebrate not only what you have accomplished but also what you will carry with you¡ªmemories, lessons, and perhaps even a little magic.¡±


    The hall fell into thoughtful silence as he paused briefly, his voice softer, more reflective. ¡°Tomorrow, the Austramore Express will arrive, carrying many of you home to your families and friends for the holidays. Some will remain, and to those, we promise that Austramore will continue to be a home filled with warmth and camaraderie. For those departing, know that we eagerly await your return. And to all, remember this place will always welcome you, always cherish you¡ªyour second home.¡±


    Boromus allowed his words to settle gently, the sincerity evident in every syllable. He clapped his hands together softly, his familiar smile returning. ¡°But enough of my old wizard sentimentality! Tonight is yours¡ªenjoy the feast, enjoy the music, enjoy one another¡¯s company. Let this evening mark the end of another remarkable year and the beginning of many more to come.¡±


    Cheers and applause erupted through the hall, filling it with joy and excitement. Students immediately scattered in all directions¡ªsome hurrying toward the sweets and pastries, others grouping excitedly to start dancing, and still others simply drifting to quieter corners to chat and reminisce.


    Soya and his friends moved together toward one of the tables, where Davonte promptly began piling sweets onto his plate. Tiana chose a delicate pastry, and Draven quietly surveyed the selection, choosing methodically. Kalsei plucked several colorful candies, beaming excitedly. Sage lingered awkwardly behind, uncertain, until Soya handed him a small tart with a gentle smile.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Sage murmured, taking it hesitantly.


    As they settled in together, chatting comfortably, Davonte spoke up excitedly. ¡°Next year¡¯s going to be even better¡ªI¡¯m calling it now.¡±


    ¡°I will be purchasing some things to encourage our pranks next year.¡± Saunak grinned, dressed as an anime character that only Soya and a select few would know.


    Davonte grinned around a mouth full of sweets. ¡°See! It will definitely be better!¡±


    The group laughed, relaxed and content beneath the warm, magical glow of the candles above.


    Across the hall, professors mingled with students, each dressed in their chosen costumes and engaging in conversation. Professor Coorong, still in his brilliantly colored jester¡¯s attire, entertained a delighted group of first-years with flashy spells. Professor Wickham moved gracefully through the hall, her elegant fox Animagus form occasionally flickering into view, delighting students around her.


    Seikan Blackthorn, his expression still carefully neutral beneath the elaborate Merlin costume, observed quietly from the edges, though his gaze lingered frequently on his son. Sage met his father¡¯s eyes briefly, offering a small nod, which Seikan silently returned, an acknowledgment filled with understanding and quiet approval.


    Soon, the music swelled louder, filling the hall with energetic rhythm. Students took to the dance floor, swirling in vibrant colors and lively steps. Kalsei eagerly pulled Tiana and Davonte onto the floor, laughing as they spun dramatically. Draven and Soya stood near the edges, watching with amused smiles.


    Eventually, even Sage found himself reluctantly drawn into the celebration, encouraged by his newfound friends. His carefully guarded expression softened, even brightening occasionally as laughter and music filled the air around him. And for once, even Sage allowed himself to relax, to enjoy being young, and to embrace the friendships he had slowly begun to forge.


    As the evening continued, the celebration seemed to blur into a singular, joyous memory. Boromus Spellchecker stood quietly to the side, watching with pride and quiet contentment. The students of Austramore were growing, changing, learning¡ªand through it all, friendships blossomed, magic thrived, and the future, with all its uncertainty and promise, stretched endlessly ahead.


    Tonight was theirs¡ªone last celebration, one last joyous evening before summer swept them away.


    And, as always, Austramore waited patiently for their return.