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—Charms.

“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—what’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—light, 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—one 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—or 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—” He suddenly spun on his heel. “—NOT 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—anything 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—just… 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—” 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—though 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—”

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—then 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—do 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—just 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.”