The Great Hall was unusually quiet that morning. Normally, the chatter of students filled the air, mingling with the clatter of cutlery and the occasional screech of owls delivering mail. Today, however, the atmosphere was subdued, the tension almost palpable. Even the enchanted ceiling seemed dimmer, a blanket of gray clouds reflecting the unease below.


    Soya sat at the Thylacea table, absently poking at his breakfast. Davonte, seated beside him, seemed equally distracted, his silver eyes scanning the room. The Yarramundi table was abuzz with whispers, and the other houses weren’t much different. The rumors about Eliza’s disappearance had spread like wildfire, leaving the entire school on edge.


    The soft but deliberate sound of footsteps silenced the hall as Headmaster Boromus Spellchecker ascended to the dais at the front. His robes, a deep emerald green trimmed with gold, shimmered faintly in the enchanted light. His presence commanded attention, and as he reached the podium, every student turned their eyes toward him.


    “Good morning,” Boromus began, his voice calm but resolute. He surveyed the room, his sharp, pale blue eyes resting briefly on each table. “I trust by now many of you have heard rumors regarding recent events at Austramore. Allow me to address the matter directly.”


    Soya felt his stomach tighten, the fork in his hand frozen mid-air.


    “As you may be aware,” Boromus continued, “one of our students, Eliza Gorman of Thylacea House, has been reported missing. Despite our best efforts, her whereabouts remain unknown. This is, of course, a matter of grave concern for all of us.”


    A wave of murmurs swept through the hall, but the headmaster raised a hand, and silence quickly returned.


    “To ensure the safety and well-being of everyone at Austramore, the Ministry of Magic has dispatched a team of officials to assist in the investigation. They will be present on school grounds for the foreseeable future. Their presence is not cause for alarm but rather a precautionary measure to ensure no stone is left unturned.”


    Boromus’s gaze swept the room again, his expression unyielding. “I must emphasize that all students are required to cooperate fully with the ministry officials. Should they ask you questions, you are to answer honestly and to the best of your ability. This is not optional. Their purpose here is to help us, and I expect each of you to treat them with the respect they deserve.”


    Soya’s chest tightened, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind. Would they question him? What would he even say?


    “Lastly,” Boromus said, his tone softening slightly, “I urge you all to support one another during this difficult time. We are a community, and our strength lies in our unity. Should you have any concerns or information, please do not hesitate to approach your head of house or myself directly.”


    With a final glance around the room, Boromus stepped back from the podium. “Enjoy your breakfast, and may the rest of your day be productive.”


    As the headmaster took his seat, the hall erupted into hushed conversations. Soya felt Davonte nudge his arm.


    “Well, that’s ominous,” Davonte muttered. “Ministry officials prowling around the school. That’s not going to make anyone nervous.”


    “Do you think they’ll question us?” Soya asked, his voice barely above a whisper.


    “Probably,” Davonte said, his expression darkening. “We were with Eliza a lot. They’ll want to know if she said anything unusual before she disappeared.”


    Soya nodded slowly, his appetite gone. The thought of being interrogated by ministry officials was terrifying enough, but the idea of saying the wrong thing—of somehow drawing more attention to himself—was even worse.


    Soya’s fears proved well-founded later that morning when a Ministry official intercepted him on his way to Herbology. The man was tall and imposing, his neatly trimmed beard and sharp black robes giving him an air of authority. He introduced himself as Investigator Harlen Pierce and asked Soya to accompany him to an empty classroom.


    The room was cold and dimly lit, its bare stone walls amplifying every sound. Soya sat in a chair facing Pierce, who conjured a clipboard and quill with a flick of his wand.


    “Relax, Mr. Vareen,” Pierce said, his tone smooth but impersonal. “This is just a routine inquiry. We’re speaking to all students who were close to Miss Gorman.”


    Soya nodded, his hands gripping the edge of his chair.


    “Let’s start with something simple,” Pierce said, his quill hovering over the parchment. “When was the last time you saw Miss Gorman?”


    “Uh, three days ago,” Soya replied, his voice shaky. “We were in the library.”


    “And what were you doing there?” Pierce asked, his quill scratching out notes.


    “Studying,” Soya said quickly. “For, um, Magical Beasts.”


    Pierce’s sharp eyes studied him for a moment before he continued. “Did Miss Gorman mention anything unusual? Perhaps a project she was working on or something that concerned her?”


    Soya hesitated, his heart pounding. He couldn’t tell Pierce about the basilisk skin or the rune—they had no proof, and involving the Ministry might make things worse. “Not really,” he said carefully. “She was always busy with something, but I didn’t think much of it.”


    Pierce raised an eyebrow but didn’t press the point. “And how would you describe her behavior in the days leading up to her disappearance? Did she seem anxious, distracted, or otherwise out of character?”


    Soya swallowed hard. “Maybe a little distracted. But that’s just how she was—always thinking about something.”


    Pierce nodded, his quill darting across the parchment. “I see. And have you noticed anything unusual around the castle recently? Strange behavior from other students, odd occurrences—anything at all?”


    Soya’s mind flashed to Sevrin and Sage, to the rune by the lake, but he forced himself to stay calm. “No, nothing like that,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t betray him.


    Pierce studied him for a long moment before setting down the quill. “Very well, Mr. Vareen. That will be all for now. Should you remember anything else, don’t hesitate to inform your head of house or one of the Ministry officials.”If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Soya nodded quickly, relief washing over him as Pierce dismissed him. But as he left the room, his chest felt heavier than ever. The Ministry’s presence only underscored how serious things had become, and Soya couldn’t shake the feeling that the worst was yet to come.


    Later that day, Davonte was called for questioning. When he returned to the Thylacea common room, his expression was grim.


    “What did they ask you?” Soya whispered as they sat in a quiet corner.


    “Same stuff as you, I’m guessing,” Davonte replied. “When we last saw Eliza, if she said anything strange, that sort of thing.”


    “And what did you tell them?” Soya asked nervously.


    “Not much,” Davonte admitted. “They don’t need to know about... well, you know. I just said she was her usual self, always reading and sketching. Nothing out of the ordinary.”


    Soya nodded, but his unease only grew. The Ministry’s questions were probing, but they hadn’t even scratched the surface of what he and Davonte knew. And as the days passed, Soya couldn’t help but wonder how long their secrets would remain hidden.


    The days that followed were anything but normal. Soya quickly noticed the subtle but unmistakable presence of the Ministry officials, their black robes and sharp gazes a constant reminder of the scrutiny he and Davonte were under. No matter where he went—classes, the Great Hall, or even the library—there always seemed to be an official nearby, their eyes lingering just a moment too long.


    It wasn’t overt, but it was enough to set Soya’s nerves on edge. He avoided speaking about anything remotely suspicious, even to Davonte, and tried to keep his behavior as unremarkable as possible. But the weight of their gaze never left him.


    It began in Potions. Professor Blackthorn was midway through a demonstration on how to brew a Moonflower Elixir when Soya noticed an official standing near the back of the room. At first, he thought it was a random observation, but when the man’s eyes met his for the third time in as many minutes, his heart sank.


    “Soya, you’re going to spill that,” Davonte whispered, nudging him.


    Soya snapped his focus back to his cauldron, realizing his trembling hand had tilted the ladle dangerously close to the edge. “Thanks,” he muttered, steadying himself.


    The rest of the lesson passed uneventfully, but the tension in Soya’s chest remained. When the bell rang, he hurried to pack up his things, but as he turned toward the door, he nearly collided with the same official.


    “Careful there,” the man said, his tone light but his eyes sharp. “You seem distracted, Mr. Vareen.”


    “I—I’m fine,” Soya stammered, clutching his satchel tightly. “Just tired, that’s all.”


    The man gave a small smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Get some rest, then. We wouldn’t want you falling behind.”


    Soya nodded quickly and darted out of the room, his pulse racing. He didn’t look back, but he could feel the official’s gaze boring into his back as he left.


    At lunch, Soya barely touched his food. Davonte noticed immediately, frowning as he leaned closer. “What’s wrong?”


    “They’re watching us,” Soya whispered, glancing around the Great Hall. Sure enough, one of the officials stood near the entrance, his arms crossed as he scanned the room.


    “You think they know something?” Davonte asked, his voice low.


    “They know we’re hiding something,” Soya said, his stomach churning. “That’s what they’re trained for, right? They can tell when someone’s not being honest.”


    Davonte frowned, pushing his plate away. “Well, we can’t give them a reason to dig deeper. Just act normal.”


    “Normal?” Soya echoed, his voice tinged with panic. “How are we supposed to act normal when they’re everywhere?”


    “By not freaking out,” Davonte said firmly. “Look, I know it’s hard, but if we start acting suspicious, they’ll pounce on us. Just stick to classes, keep your head down, and don’t give them anything to work with.”


    Soya nodded reluctantly, but the anxiety gnawing at him refused to ease. He felt like a cornered animal, trapped under the unrelenting scrutiny of predators he couldn’t escape.


    The tension came to a head during Herbology. Professor Willowshade had assigned the class to work in pairs, repotting Venomous Tentacula under her watchful eye. Soya and Davonte worked together, their gloves covered in dirt as they carefully transferred the writhing plant into a larger pot.


    “You’re being too gentle,” Davonte said, gripping the base of the plant firmly. “You’ve got to hold it steady, or it’ll snap at you.”


    “I know,” Soya muttered, his hands trembling as he tried to adjust his grip.


    “Don’t let it see you’re scared,” Davonte added with a smirk. “It’s like a dog—smells fear.”


    Soya managed a weak laugh, but his focus wasn’t on the plant. Across the greenhouse, another Ministry official stood near the door, his eyes flicking between the students as if cataloging their every move. When his gaze landed on Soya, the boy froze, his hands tightening around the stem of the Tentacula.


    The plant reacted immediately, lashing out with a vine that struck Soya’s arm. He yelped in pain, jerking back as the vine left a shallow cut on his sleeve.


    “Mr. Vareen!” Professor Willowshade called, hurrying over. “What happened?”


    “I—I wasn’t holding it right,” Soya stammered, cradling his arm. “It’s fine, really.”


    Willowshade examined the wound, her expression softening. “It’s just a scratch, but you must be more careful. Venomous Tentacula are highly reactive.”


    Soya nodded, his face burning with embarrassment as she healed the cut with a quick flick of her wand. He could feel the official’s eyes on him the entire time, and when he glanced up, the man’s expression was unreadable.


    As the class ended, the official approached Soya near the door. “Everything all right, Mr. Vareen?” he asked, his tone casual but his gaze piercing.


    “Yes,” Soya said quickly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just a mistake.”


    The man nodded, but there was something unsettling about the way he lingered. “Be careful,” he said finally, his tone almost too polite. “It would be a shame if you got hurt again.”


    Soya felt his blood run cold. The words weren’t overtly threatening, but there was an underlying menace he couldn’t ignore. As he walked back to the castle with Davonte, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the Ministry wasn’t just watching them—they were waiting for them to slip up.


    The Great Hall buzzed with the usual chatter of students during dinner. The enchanted ceiling displayed a dusky sky painted in shades of deep blue and violet, with stars beginning to twinkle as the evening wore on. Soya sat at the Thylacea table, picking at his food. Across from him, Davonte was regaling a group of first-years with a dramatic retelling of their earlier Herbology mishap.


    “…and then it whipped out like a bloody whip, aiming straight for Soya’s face!” Davonte exclaimed, gesturing wildly. “He dodged it, of course, but I had to wrestle the beast back into the pot. I’m practically a hero.”


    The younger students laughed, though Soya could only manage a faint smile. His thoughts were elsewhere—circling around the Ministry officials, Eliza’s disappearance, and the feeling that every step he took brought him closer to a truth he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.


    The scrape of chairs on the stone floor drew his attention, and his gaze flicked toward the Yarramundi table. Sevrine and Sage were weaving through the crowded hall, their strides purposeful as they made their way to their seats. The chatter around the Thylacea table continued unabated, but Soya’s focus sharpened when he caught the tail end of their conversation.


    “…should’ve kept her nose out of it,” Sevrine muttered, his voice low but audible as they passed. His sharp features were set in a faint sneer, his hands tucked casually into his robe pockets. “Now look where it got her.”


    Sage glanced over his shoulder, his dark eyes scanning the room before he replied. “We should’ve been more careful. They’re asking too many questions now. Even we were dragged into it.”


    “Doesn’t matter,” Sevrine said with a shrug. “They won’t find anything. Let them chase their tails.”


    The words hung in the air, and Soya’s breath caught in his throat. He glanced at Davonte, who had also fallen silent, his silver eyes narrowing as he watched the two boys take their seats at the Yarramundi table.


    “You heard that, right?” Davonte whispered, leaning closer.


    Soya nodded, his hands clenching into fists under the table. “They know something about Eliza,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “They… they must.”


    “More than ‘must,’” Davonte said, his voice tight with anger. “They all but admitted it. And if they’ve been questioned too…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening. “This is bigger than we thought.”


    Soya’s stomach churned. He felt torn between the urge to confront Sevrine and Sage then and there and the paralyzing fear of drawing more attention to himself. The memory of the Ministry officials’ piercing gazes flashed through his mind, and he sank deeper into his seat.


    “They won’t tell us anything,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with defeat. “And even if they did, what could we do?”


    Davonte frowned, his usual confidence replaced by a flicker of doubt. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I’m not going to sit around while they smirk and scheme. We’ll figure something out.”


    Soya wanted to believe him, but the weight of the situation felt like an anchor dragging him down. As Sevrin and Sage began eating, laughing quietly with their tablemates as though nothing was amiss, Soya couldn’t help but wonder how much more he could handle—and how much more the magical world would demand of him before it finally broke him.