The Great Hall of Austramore School of Witchcraft and Wizardry buzzed with the energy of new beginnings. The students, both new and returning, sat at long stone tables arranged by house. The Thylacea table was nearest to the wall, draped in vibrant orange and black. At the center of the room, the Arboris Scepter stood gleaming atop a carved sandstone pedestal, its intricate design a testament to the school''s history.


    Headmaster Boromus Spellchecker, his patched robes swirling around his wiry frame, raised his crackling staff high into the air. The room fell silent, save for the occasional crackle of the enchanted lanterns overhead.


    “Ah, my dear students, both new and returning!” Boromus began, his voice a curious mix of booming authority and whimsical charm. “Tonight marks the start of another grand year at Austramore, where your minds will be sharpened, your spells honed, and—if you’re lucky—your eyebrows kept intact.” A ripple of laughter swept through the hall. Boromus grinned, his eyes twinkling like he was sharing a secret joke.


    "A word on safety,” he continued, raising a finger. “Avoid the East Wing on Tuesdays—experiments tend to escape. Also, the lake is home to a rather grumpy bunyip who dislikes loud noises, so kindly refrain from cannonballs. And, most importantly, respect your professors. They are here not just to teach, but to ensure you don’t accidentally transfigure yourselves into toads… permanently.”


    He paced slowly in front of the Arboris Scepter, his bright eyes scanning the crowd. “This school was built on the principles of balance, adaptability, and respect—for each other, for the land, and for the magic that binds us all. Whether you are a Yarramundi leader, a Ningaloo protector, a Thylacea strategist, or a Bunjil thinker, your house is not just your home—it is your family.”


    The hall was so quiet that Soya Vareen could hear his own heartbeat. He sat at the Thylacea table, dwarfed by older students and trying to avoid drawing attention to himself.


    "Now," the headmaster continued, pacing slowly in front of the Scepter, "you have been sorted into your houses—Thylacea, Ningaloo, Bunjil, and Yarramundi. Each house is a reflection of your strengths, your potential, and yes, your quirks. Embrace them, for they are your family within these walls."


    He stopped, turning to look at the students with a mischievous glint in his eye. "But let us not forget that learning is hard work! And hard work requires energy, and energy requires food! So, without further ado..."


    With a dramatic tap of his staff against the pedestal, the Arboris Scepter flared brightly, and the tables sprang to life. Platters of roasted kangaroo, steaming bowls of bush tomato stew, crusty loaves of damper bread, and fresh lamingtons appeared in abundance. Jugs of sparkling water, pineapple juice, and a luminescent green drink sat in the center of each table.


    Soya’s eyes widened as he stared at the feast before him. He reached tentatively for a bread roll, feeling overwhelmed.


    “Go on,” said Davonte Evander, the tall boy from Thylacea who had been sorted just after him. “It’s all real. The chicken’s amazing, by the way.”


    Soya chuckled nervously and placed the bread on his plate. Around him, the Thylacea table was alive with chatter.


    “Unbelievable,” one student said, poking at a slice of roast lamb. “My mum can’t even cook this well, and she’s got a magical oven!”


    A red-haired girl near the end of the table added, “I bet the pudding’s enchanted to taste like whatever you’re craving.”


    A girl across the table, her curly auburn hair glowing in the lantern light, grinned. “What’s this green drink?” she asked, lifting a jug of the mysterious liquid.


    “Glowleaf cordial,” an older boy replied. “Tastes like mint and citrus. Careful, though—it glows for hours after you drink it.”


    The girl giggled and poured herself a glass. Soya watched the easy interactions around him, feeling slightly out of place. But as he bit into the tender fish, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement.


    “You’re quiet,” Davonte remarked, breaking Soya’s train of thought. “What’s your story?”


    Soya hesitated, unsure how much to share. “I’m… new to all of this,” he said finally. “My parents aren’t wizards. I didn’t even know magic was real until a few weeks ago.”


    Davonte raised his eyebrows. “Muggle-born, huh? Well, don’t worry. Thylacea’s good at making people feel at home. You’ll fit right in.”


    Soya managed a small smile. “Thanks.”


    After the feast, Boromus Spellchecker stood once more, tapping his staff lightly to regain the room’s attention. “Now that your bellies are full, it’s time to head to your dormitories. Prefects, the floor is yours!”


    At the Thylacea table, a tall boy with sandy hair and a confident stride stood. “First-years, follow me!” he called, gesturing for the newcomers to gather. “I’m Jasper, your prefect. Stick close—this castle’s got a habit of shifting around if you’re not paying attention.”


    The first-years shuffled together, and Soya found himself in the middle of the group as they filed out of the hall. The corridors of Austramore were unlike anything he had ever seen. The sandstone walls seemed to pulse faintly with magic, and the floor occasionally shimmered as if made of liquid light.


    “Don’t wander,” Jasper said over his shoulder. “The hallways like to test new students. Stick with the group, and you’ll be fine.”


    The group passed several older students chatting by a staircase and a portrait of a grumpy-looking Tasmanian Devil that muttered complaints as they walked by. Soya glanced nervously at the shifting shadows, half expecting something to jump out.


    Eventually, Jasper stopped in front of a tall wooden door carved with an intricate image of a Tasmanian Tiger surrounded by eucalyptus leaves.


    “This is us,” Jasper said, tapping the door with his wand. “Courage through adaptability.”


    The door creaked open, revealing a cozy circular room with warm orange and black accents. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and a crackling fire burned in a stone hearth. Plush chairs and beanbags were scattered around, and the ceiling shimmered faintly like a clear night sky.


    As the first-years entered the common room, Jasper clapped his hands. “All right, grab a seat and make yourselves comfortable. Before we head to the dormitories, let’s do a quick introduction. Name, where you’re from, and something you’re looking forward to this year.”


    The group settled into the chairs, some looking more at ease than others. A girl with a bright smile went first. “I’m Eliza Gorman. From Brisbane. I’m excited to learn about magical creatures.”


    “I’m Davonte Evander,” Davonte said. “Mum and Dad work for the Ministry of Magic. I’ve always been interested in magical creatures, so I’m hoping to study them here.”


    One by one, the students introduced themselves. When it was Soya’s turn, he swallowed nervously. “I’m Soya Vareen. I’m from Sydney. And, uh… I guess I’m looking forward to learning more about magic.”


    Jasper gave him an encouraging nod. “Good answer. You’ll do great here, Soya.”


    The introductions continued until everyone had spoken. The atmosphere grew warmer as the students chatted, sharing their excitement and nerves. Soya found himself laughing at a story about a kangaroo stealing someone’s lunch, feeling a little less like an outsider.


    When the introductions wrapped up, Jasper led the boys up a spiral staircase to their dormitory. The room was spacious, with four-poster beds draped in orange and black curtains. Each bed had a trunk at the foot and a small shelf for personal items.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    “This is you,” Jasper said, pointing to a bed near the window with a calico kitten curled up asleep on the pillow. Soya set his bag down, feeling a rush of relief. The mattress was soft, and the view outside showed the twinkling lights of Fernwick in the distance.


    “Not bad, huh?” Davonte said, plopping onto the bed across from him. “Bet you didn’t have this in Sydney.”


    Soya laughed softly. “Not even close.”


    As the boys settled in, the room filled with the sounds of quiet conversation and the rustle of unpacking. For the first time since receiving his letter, Soya felt a sense of calm. He lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling, and let the soft hum of magic lull him to sleep.


    The sunlight streaming through the enchanted windows of the Thylacea dormitory seemed brighter than usual, the morning carrying an air of promise and curiosity. Soya Vareen woke slowly, the unfamiliar warmth of the room and the soft hum of magic reminding him that he wasn’t home anymore. Around him, the other boys stirred—Davonte Evander was already stretching, his silver eyes bright with anticipation.


    “Morning, Soya,” Davonte said, swinging his legs off the side of his bed. “Ready to meet the professors?”


    Soya pushed himself upright, adjusting his glasses. “I think so. Do you know much about them?”


    Davonte grinned. “Not really, but I hear they’re impressive. One of them is half-ghost, apparently.”


    Soya’s eyebrows shot up. “Half-ghost?”


    “Yeah, teaches History of Magic, I think. You’ll see.” Davonte stood, pulling on his uniform robes. “Better get moving. Jasper’s probably waiting to drag us off somewhere.”


    By the time the Thylacea first-years gathered in the Great Hall, the tables were laden with breakfast: platters of scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, slices of fresh damper bread, and bowls of tropical fruits. Soya filled his plate carefully, still marveling at the sheer abundance of food. Around him, his housemates were chatting about the day ahead.


    “What do you reckon we’ll learn first?” asked Eliza Gorman, a bubbly girl with auburn curls. “I hope it’s something flashy, like spell casting.”


    Davonte leaned closer to Soya. “Bet it’s something dull like history. They always start with history.”


    Jasper, the Thylacea prefect, clapped his hands, silencing the chatter. “All right, first-years! Finish up and gather in the entrance hall. Today’s all about exploring the school, meeting your professors, and getting a taste of what life at Austramore is like. Keep your eyes open—you don’t want to miss anything.”


    The first stop on their tour was the Transfiguration classroom. The room was filled with sunlight, the walls lined with shelves holding intricate sculptures and small animal figurines. At the center of the room stood a tall, sharp-featured woman with piercing eyes. Her presence was commanding, and the students fell silent as she regarded them.


    “I am Professor Wickham,” she said, her voice crisp and precise. “Transfiguration is the art of change. To master it, you must understand not only what an object is but what it can become.”


    She held up a small wooden bird and tapped it lightly with her wand. In an instant, the bird sprang to life, its wings fluttering as it soared across the room. The first-years gasped as the bird landed on a desk and transformed back into wood.


    “This is what you will learn,” she continued. “But do not mistake this for simple magic. Transfiguration requires discipline and focus. Without those, you will fail.”


    Soya exchanged a glance with Davonte, who looked equally intrigued and intimidated. As they left the room, whispers of excitement rippled through the group.


    Their next stop was the Charms classroom, a lively space filled with colorful banners and floating candles. A cheerful man with a wide smile greeted them at the door. He had an energetic presence that immediately put the students at ease.


    “Welcome, first-years!” he said, clapping his hands together. “I’m Professor Coorong, and this is Charms. If you’ve ever wondered how magic can make life more interesting, this is the class for you.”


    He raised his wand and waved it toward the ceiling. A moment later, dozens of glowing orbs appeared, floating gently down to the students. Soya reached out, touching one, and felt a warm sensation spread through his fingers.


    “These are called Orb Luminas,” Coorong explained. “A simple charm, but effective. By the end of the term, you’ll be able to cast this spell and many more. Charms are the foundation of magical practicality.”


    The students left the classroom buzzing with enthusiasm. Soya felt a flicker of confidence—maybe magic wouldn’t be as overwhelming as he’d feared.


    The Defense classroom was entirely different. Large and shadowy, the room was dominated by moving targets shaped like small shadowy creatures. A tall woman with an athletic build and a faint scar across her cheek stood near the front, her arms crossed.


    “I’m Professor Marilla,” she said, her voice firm but not unkind. “Defense Against the Dark Arts is about preparation. You’ll face challenges in life—some magical, some not—but this class will teach you to handle them with skill and courage.”


    She raised her wand and aimed it at one of the shadowy targets. “Expulsum!” she called, and a burst of light shot from her wand, shattering the target into harmless wisps.


    “Don’t worry,” she added, lowering her wand. “We won’t start with anything this advanced. You’ll begin with minor jinxes and counterspells.”


    Soya felt a chill of both fear and excitement as they filed out of the room. Davonte nudged him. “I think I like her. She means business.”


    The Herbology greenhouses were warm and humid, filled with the scents of earth and growing things. Professor Greenbark greeted them with a bright smile, her apron streaked with dirt and her hair tied back with a vine.


    “Welcome, first-years! I’m Professor Greenbark, and you’re about to learn how magical plants can help—or hinder—your magical journey.”


    She gestured to a nearby table where glowing vines pulsed faintly with light. “This is a Glowvine. Its leaves can be used in potions, but mishandle it, and you might end up glowing for days.”


    The students laughed nervously as Greenbark demonstrated how to handle the plant carefully. Soya leaned closer, fascinated by the vine’s gentle luminescence.


    “Remember,” she said, her voice gentle but firm, “plants are alive. Treat them with respect, and they’ll reward you.”


    Jasper lead them out of the greenhouse and down a stone spiral staircase to the lower floors of the castle.


    The Potions classroom was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of herbs and bubbling concoctions. A pale man with shoulder-length black hair and an intense gaze stood behind a large cauldron, his hands folded neatly in front of him.


    “I am Professor Blackthorn,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “Potions is not for the impatient or the careless. Every ingredient, every movement, every moment matters.”


    He gestured to the cauldron, which was filled with a shimmering green liquid. “This is a simple potion for calming nerves. One misstep, and it becomes a toxin.”


    The students watched as he stirred the potion with precision, his movements almost hypnotic. Soya felt a mix of awe and trepidation—Potions seemed as fascinating as it was dangerous.


    Further down the corridor they stopped outside another room, the hum and pressure building in Soya''s ears before Jasper swung the door open.


    The Rune classroom was lined with stone tablets covered in glowing symbols. Professor Wirruna, a quiet woman with intricate tattoos across her arms, stood at the front, her expression calm and focused.


    “Runes are the foundation of ancient magic,” she said, tracing a glowing symbol in the air with her wand. “Each one carries a meaning, a power. Together, they tell a story.”


    She handed out small tablets to each student, each engraved with a different rune. “Your task is to study this rune and tell me what you feel. Runes are not just symbols—they are alive.”


    Soya stared at his tablet, the rune glowing faintly under his touch. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt a faint hum of energy, as though the rune was trying to communicate.


    "Take your runes with you, and study them before your first class with me," Professor Wirruna announced. "Do not treat them as a toy. They are powerful and useful instruments that deserve respect."


    The final stop was the History of Magic lecture hall, where a half-transparent man floated near the chalkboard. His spectral glow and kind smile immediately caught their attention.


    The History of Magic classroom was unlike any other they had visited. The walls were lined with enchanted tapestries depicting pivotal moments in magical history—wizarding duels, the discovery of ancient artifacts, and even serene scenes of magical harmony with nature. Each tapestry moved subtly, as if alive with the stories they told.


    At the front of the room was a wide, crescent-shaped desk made of polished eucalyptus wood, behind which floated a large chalkboard that seemed to sketch on its own, the chalk moving as though guided by invisible hands. Rows of comfortable wooden desks were arranged in a semi-circle, creating an intimate, almost storytelling atmosphere.


    Soft orbs of magical light floated near the ceiling, giving the room a warm and welcoming glow. It felt less like a lecture hall and more like stepping into the pages of a magical storybook, where history could come alive at any moment.


    “Ah, first-years!” the professor said warmly. “I am Professor Cairns, and I assure you, history is not as dull as you might think.”


    The chalkboard behind him came to life, sketching out animated scenes of magical events. “History whispers in every spell, every wand movement. To understand magic, you must understand its past.”


    Soya watched, entranced, as the chalk figures moved across the board. For the first time, he realized how alive history could be.


    The day passed in a whirlwind of wonder and information, each classroom offering a glimpse into the magical world that lay ahead. By the time the first-years returned to the Thylacea common room, Soya felt both exhausted and exhilarated.


    This was his new reality, and he couldn’t wait to see what came next.