As we were led to the auditorium, we shuffled up and sat on the back end of the benches. The headteacher then welcomed the student council to the stage, where a man wearing the same uniform got on and began to thank the staff for their assistance.
“I appreciate the introduction. As the president of your student council and a representative of the seniors in this school, I'm Sava Princer. I'd like to start by extending a warm welcome to each and every one of you. As you are undoubtedly aware, our school is renowned for its distinction and prestige in all areas, including academics, magic, and swordplay, and it offers an unwavering guarantee of prosperity after you graduate in four years. We take great pride in this, and in fact, it is our top priority.
However, I would want to caution you that this is not your typical school—it is not at all—and that it will transform your life in ways that even you may not fully understand.
Thank you for listening, and proceed to the area where a board will indicate the house you will be in.”
Changing our lives,huh? We will see about that. Change is an inevitable force, often disguised as a choice, yet it shapes us in ways we can't always predict. Like a chess game where every move alters the board, change demands our attention and adaptation. It's unsettling, challenging our comfort zones, and forcing us to confront the truths we've long avoided. But within that discomfort lies the potential for growth. Embracing change isn’t about passively accepting the tide; it’s about strategically navigating through it, understanding that each transformation—whether welcomed or resisted—reveals new facets of our identity. Ultimately, change is not merely something that happens to us; it is a powerful catalyst that defines who we become.
As me and Dan reach outside, we arrive at the board and read for our name. Dan squinted and scanned the board, his finger pausing over the names. I was listed under Phillips House, and he’d landed in Hampden House. A dry chuckle escaped him.
“Figures. They put us in different houses, just as I was hoping for low-maintenance years ahead of us.”
I regarded him with mild curiosity. “You think it’s intentional?”
Dan shrugged. “Not everything has to be,” he replied, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. “But these places always seem to have some ‘character-building’ scheme in mind. They probably expect us to ‘grow’ or ‘challenge our beliefs’ or whatever it is they think will ‘unlock our potential.’”
I nodded, unfazed. “Change is a given. Might as well see what they have in mind.”
Dan rolled his eyes. “Or it's just another setup to frustrate everyone. But hey, enjoy Phillips. I’ll be across campus, avoiding as many people as possible.”
“Sounds like your idea of a good year,” I said, amused by what he just said.
He smirked. “Yeah. Just don’t go having some 'revelation’ without me.”
As he walked off, I watched him go, vaguely amused. Different houses or not, the year ahead seemed poised to challenge both of us.
After checking the house placements, we were organised into long, winding lines for orientation. Each line was split by house, and I joined the one for Phillips, observing the scattered reactions of students around me. Most chatted nervously, adjusting their uniforms or laughing with friends, but I was content to keep my thoughts to myself, watching the line move forward in a steady shuffle.
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As I waited, a familiar figure joined the line beside me—a girl with two red ribbons in her hair, the same one from the train. She stepped in without acknowledging anyone; her gaze fixed forward as though the surrounding chatter didn’t exist. Her expression was calm, distant even, with an air of cool self-assurance that seemed to deflect any attempt at conversation.
We inched forward together, side by side, until we finally filed into our assigned homeroom.
As we were led to our designated spots in the room, I noticed the arrangement: the desks were joined in pairs, creating an unavoidable closeness between seatmates. My seat was already marked with a piece of paper with my name on it—third row back, fourth column from the door. As I walked over, I recognised the person already seated beside my spot: the girl with the red ribbons from earlier.
She was focused straight ahead, completely absorbed in her own world, with no intention of acknowledging anyone nearby. She didn’t look my way, nor did she seem particularly interested in anything around her.
Taking my seat beside her, I sensed a cool, almost guarded silence between us. Perfectly fine with me.
“An annoying coincidence,”
“That feeling’s mutual.”
“I’m Luck Starborne; nice to meet you.”
“You just went and introduced yourself?” she said.
“Well, this is the second time we have spoken to each other, so isn’t it fine to do so by now?”
I couldn’t help but reflect on the awkwardness of introductions. In a new environment, the first interactions often felt like a chore, a ritual that everyone was obliged to partake in. Names, faces, small talk—it all seemed so pointless at times. Why do we insist on this dance of social niceties? I just wanted to dive into the substance of our lives rather than skate on the surface with pleasantries.
“Do you mind if I just don’t respond to that question?” she said.
“I think not knowing your classmates name that I will be sitting next to for the whole year will be a bit awkward.”
"Well, I disagree.”
Shooting me a glance, she placed her bag underneath the table. So, she isn’t going to reply with her name. Lacking any interest in what I just said, she sat up like a model student and faced forward.
“What house did your sister get into? Or did you leave her too?”
"You're curious, aren’t you? You won’t find talking to me very interesting with that attitude of yours.”
“You know you could just ask me to stop bothering you, and what attitude are you referring to too?”
I wouldn’t have initiated a conversation if you had simply indicated your disinterest in engaging with anyone. It seems pointless to waste time on pleasantries when the intent behind them is so clearly absent.
The girl sighed and looked at me with her dagger-piercing eyes and spoke.
“My name is Miria Princer.”.
Before I could gather my thoughts of what she just said, the teacher entered the room. She was unlike any instructor I had ever seen—a towering monster cat with sleek black fur and luminous yellow eyes that seemed to glow in the dim light. Her ears twitched playfully as she surveyed the room, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.
“Welcome, my lovely students!” She purred, her voice a smooth blend of authority and feline charm. “I’m Miss Nyx, your homeroom teacher. You can call me Miss N or anything really, maybe even darling if you want, but I do expect you to keep things fun in here, so don’t think of me as just a teacher. I’m more like your guide in this wild adventure of magic and mayhem.”
Her presence was overwhelming yet captivating. “We’re going to have a purr-fect time this year! But first, let’s go over some rules, shall we? I have a low tolerance for boring classes! If you’re not engaged, you might find yourselves at the mercy of my feline whims.”
I exchanged glances with the girl next to me; her eyes widened slightly at Miss Nyx's playful threat. It was clear we were in for an unusual year at AMSE High School, and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement mixed with apprehension.