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—a 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—a 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—I thought the powdered kangaroo paw—”
“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—a 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—unless 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—gentle 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—food. 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—a 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—just 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—at 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—a 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.