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—" He paused for dramatic effect, then suddenly flailed his arms. "—explode 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—two 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 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—feathers, 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—straight 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.

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“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—" 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—"

"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—just 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—he’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—Divination—all 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—if 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—always 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—or 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—one tame, one wild—howling beneath it.

Professor Aster’s gaze drifted toward Soya’s table. "Interesting..." she murmured as she approached. "Tell me, Soya—what 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—the cards had left an impression on him.

And he wasn’t sure if he liked what they had to say.