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—the 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—it 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—the careful choice of words, the subtle tension in his posture—left 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—” 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.”
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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—it 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—too 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—a 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—” 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—who 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—this 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.