Soya Vareen had always thought of himself as exceptionally ordinary. He lived in a quiet suburban neighborhood in Sydney, tucked into a modest two-bedroom house with faded shutters and a garden of stubborn daisies that refused to bloom. His father, Malcolm, was an accountant whose evenings were spent grumbling over spreadsheets. His mother, Eliza, worked part-time at a library and devoted the rest of her time to tending the hydrangeas by their porch.


    For Soya, life was predictable, maybe even a little dull. He was small for his age, with dark brown hair that always seemed to fall in front of his hazel eyes and thick glasses that constantly slipped down his nose. Quiet and shy, he often preferred the company of books or sketching fantastical creatures in his notebook. His classmates teased him for being “different,” though they could never quite explain how. Soya felt it too—a peculiar sort of loneliness, as though he belonged somewhere he had yet to find.


    On this particular morning, the middle of July, winter’s chill seeped through the windows. Soya sat at the kitchen table, nibbling on toast and flipping through a battered wildlife encyclopedia. His favorite page was dog-eared: a faded photograph of a Tasmanian Tiger, its sharp, knowing eyes staring back at him. He traced the outline with his finger and sighed.


    “You’ll be late for school if you dawdle, Soya,” his mother called from the sink, where she was scrubbing a coffee mug.


    “Not today, Mum,” Soya replied. It was Saturday, and for once, there were no looming assignments or playground taunts to face. But still, an odd restlessness clung to him, as if something was about to change.


    At precisely 8:17 AM, the doorbell rang.


    Soya startled, nearly knocking over his glass of milk. They rarely had visitors this early. His mother paused, dish towel in hand, and glanced at him with a puzzled expression before walking to the door. Soya strained to listen, hearing only a brief exchange of muffled voices.


    When Eliza returned, she was holding an envelope—a thick, yellowed thing sealed with a curious green wax emblem. She set it on the table in front of him with a wary smile.


    “This is for you,” she said, her tone as uncertain as her expression.


    Soya frowned. “For me?” He never got mail. His birthday cards from relatives usually arrived through his parents, and the postman certainly didn’t deliver anything so unusual. He stared at the envelope, his name written in elegant green ink:


    Mr. Soya Vareen


    Second Bedroom, 14 Lavender Street


    Sydney, NSW


    He hesitated, then carefully broke the wax seal. The letter inside was written on parchment that felt almost alive in his hands, shimmering faintly in the light. Heart pounding, he began to read aloud:


    Dear Mr. Vareen,


    We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Austramore School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Term begins on the 1st of August. Please find enclosed a list of required books and equipment. Your orientation will take place at Fernwick, the magical village near the school, on the 28th of July. Further instructions are detailed below.


    Yours sincerely,


    Boromus Spellchecker


    Headmaster


    Soya’s voice wavered. He glanced at his mother, whose mouth was slightly open, her hands frozen in mid-wipe. “It… it says I’ve been accepted to a school for wizards,” he said.


    At first, they thought it had to be a prank. But enclosed with the letter was a detailed guide for “first-time wizarding families.” It explained that Soya was what the magical world called a Muggle-born—a wizard born to non-magical parents. His odd experiences as a child—the time a shattered lamp had mended itself when he panicked, or when a drawing of a bird in his sketchbook had flapped its wings before settling back to ink—suddenly made sense.


    “I—I don’t understand,” Eliza murmured, rereading the parchment for the third time. “Magic? Wizards? This isn’t real, is it?”


    “It’s real,” Malcolm said quietly, holding the parchment up to the light. “Look at this paper—it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. And this seal… it’s moving.”


    Soya’s world tilted on its axis. For the first time, the strange feeling that he didn’t belong started to fade. Maybe he did belong—just somewhere he never knew existed.


    The next day, the Vareens followed the letter’s instructions to a narrow, cobbled street called Bennelong Lane, hidden behind the Sydney Opera House. At first glance, it seemed like any other alley, but as they stepped through, the air shimmered, and the mundane world seemed to fall away.


    Shops lined the lane, their windows filled with enchanted objects: cauldrons that stirred themselves, quills writing in midair, and brooms hovering just above the floor. A group of witches haggled over glowing gemstones, and a man with a long beard walked past carrying a cage of squawking, two-headed parrots.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    They found Eucalypt Enchantments, a cozy bookshop with shelves that reached the ceiling. A smiling wizard greeted them, explaining the basics of the magical world and helping them prepare for Soya’s journey. He handed Soya a temporary wand for practice and gave them a map to Fernwick, a hidden town where they could buy his supplies.


    A week later, the Vareens arrived in Fernwick via Portkey—a rusty old tin can that whisked them through a whirlwind of color and sound. When they landed, they were in the middle of a bustling village filled with laughter, magic, and charm. Witches and wizards bartered in markets, children zoomed past on toy broomsticks, and colorful banners fluttered from enchanted lamp posts.


    Soya’s list of school supplies was long but exciting. They visited:


    Feylight Robes, where Soya was measured for his uniform by enchanted measuring tapes.


    Wandwright’s Atelier, where he received his first wand: sakura wood, 12 inches, kitsune tail hair core.


    The Cauldron Corner, where they picked out a sturdy bronze cauldron and a set of potion-making tools.


    His parents marveled at everything they saw, though Eliza occasionally muttered about the sheer oddness of it all. By the time they left, Soya was equipped with robes, books, a wand, and a shiny black trunk embossed with the Austramore crest.


    The morning of August 1st arrived too soon. At Sydney’s Central Station, the Vareens stood awkwardly near Platform 8, waiting for the enchanted barrier to open.


    “This is… goodbye for now,” Eliza said, her voice trembling as she adjusted Soya’s scarf. “Be safe, Soya. Write to us as soon as you can.”


    “I will, Mum,” Soya promised, trying to sound braver than he felt.


    Malcolm gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. “You’re going to be great, son. Make us proud.”


    When the barrier shimmered open, revealing the sleek bronze train that would take him to Austramore, Soya took a deep breath, waved to his parents, and stepped through.


    The journey to the Blue Mountains was mesmerizing. The train wove through valleys and over cliffs, past sparkling rivers and forests that seemed alive with magic. Soya sat by the window, staring in awe as the scenery unfolded.


    When they arrived, the school stood in the distance, its sandstone towers glowing faintly under the evening sky. Professor Boromus Spellchecker, the headmaster, stood at the gates—a tall, wiry man with a wild mane of silver hair and robes patched with colorful stitching. He held a staff that crackled faintly with energy.


    “Welcome, new students!” Boromus announced, his voice a booming mix of enthusiasm and eccentricity. “Here, you’ll learn to conjure wonders, tame chaos, and maybe even understand why your socks always disappear in the wash! Now, onward!”


    Soya couldn’t help but smile at the man’s oddness, feeling a strange sense of comfort. The students were led into the Great Hall, a cavernous space filled with floating lanterns and enchanted murals depicting Australian landscapes.


    “Before we begin the Sorting Ceremony,” Boromus said, twirling his staff dramatically, “let me welcome you to Austramore, where the ordinary ends and the extraordinary begins!”


    Soya’s heart pounded as he joined the line of first-years waiting to be sorted. For the first time in his life, he felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.


    The Great Hall of Austramore was alive with magic. Lanterns floated above long tables, casting a warm glow over the enchanted murals on the sandstone walls. The ceiling, enchanted to mirror the sky outside, displayed a twilight sky with a scattering of stars. Soya Vareen stood among a sea of first-year students, his heart pounding in his chest. He glanced nervously at the line ahead of him as names were called, one by one, for the Sorting Ceremony.


    At the front of the hall, an ancient pedestal held a shimmering silver staff—the Arboris Scepter. Headmaster Boromus Spellchecker, a wiry man with wild silver hair and patched robes, stood beside it. His kind yet eccentric demeanor was as captivating as the crackling staff he leaned on.


    “Students, the moment you’ve all been waiting for!” Boromus announced, his voice a mix of enthusiasm and mystery. “This scepter is no ordinary stick! It knows your hearts, your strengths, your quirks… and even your favorite snacks, though it promises not to tell! Now, let’s see where you belong.”


    The students murmured nervously. Soya tightened his grip on the strap of his bag, his eyes darting toward the Scepter.


    “Sevrin Verelle!”


    A tall boy with piercing green eyes and shoulder-length black hair stepped forward. His scowl deepened as the staff lit up with a brilliant crimson glow.


    “Yarramundi!” Boromus declared with a dramatic wave of his arm.


    The Yarramundi table erupted in cheers as Sevrin strode toward them, his expression indifferent but his steps deliberate.


    “Manaya Moon!”


    A short girl with long, messy brown hair and hazel eyes stepped up next. Three scars stretched from her cheek to her neck, but her gentle demeanor softened her appearance. The staff glowed a serene blue.


    “Ningaloo!”


    Manaya smiled shyly and hurried to join her new house, greeted warmly by her cheering peers.


    “Sage Blackthorn!”


    A pale boy with calculating dark eyes and short black hair approached the pedestal. His expression was unreadable as the staff flickered crimson.


    “Yarramundi!”


    The same table cheered again, their members already growing confident with their new additions.


    “Salem Blackthorn!”


    Sage’s twin brother stepped forward, his pale complexion and nervous gaze contrasting sharply with his sibling’s calm demeanor. The staff glowed green.


    “Bunjil!”


    Salem let out a visible sigh of relief as he joined the Bunjil table, receiving gentle applause.


    “Soya Vareen!”


    The sound of his name made Soya’s heart leap into his throat. He shuffled forward, feeling every eye in the room on him. His hands trembled as he stood before the Scepter. It seemed to hum with energy, responding to his presence.


    Boromus leaned closer, whispering theatrically, “Ah, a curious one, this Scepter says. Shy but creative, quiet yet determined. What a delightful puzzle!”


    The staff pulsed with golden light before shifting to a vibrant orange.


    “Thylacea!” Boromus announced, clapping his hands. “Welcome to the house of resourcefulness and ingenuity!”


    Relief and excitement washed over Soya as he joined the Thylacea table, greeted by enthusiastic cheers. Among them, a tall boy with mousey brown hair and silver eyes gave him a welcoming nod.


    “Saunak Carswell!”


    A boy with short white hair and blue eyes stepped forward confidently. His warm smile never wavered as the staff glowed green.


    “Bunjil!”


    Saunak grinned and made his way to the table, clapping Salem on the back as he sat down.


    “Davonte Evander!”


    A tall, athletic boy with flawless skin and silver eyes stepped forward next. The staff barely hesitated before glowing orange.


    “Thylacea!”


    The Thylacea table welcomed him with cheers, and Soya found himself sitting beside him. Davonte smiled down at him. “Looks like we’ll be housemates.”


    As the final student was sorted, Boromus stepped forward again, raising his crackling staff dramatically. “And thus, the Sorting is complete! Remember, my dear students, that your house is not just where you’ll sleep and eat—it’s your family, your team, your partners in adventure and mischief!”


    The hall erupted in applause as the students began to settle in with their new housemates. Soya glanced around the Thylacea table, feeling a warmth he hadn’t expected. For the first time in his life, he felt like he was home.