The faint rustling echoed through the Whispering Archives like a distant ghost. Soya’s heart thudded against his ribs, his breath caught in his throat as he crouched lower behind the shelf. The dim light had vanished entirely, leaving them cloaked in near-total darkness.
“Tell me that’s just some old book falling over,” Davonte murmured, his voice low but strained.
“Books don’t move by themselves,” Soya whispered back, though he wasn’t entirely sure that was true here.
The sound grew louder—measured footsteps now, soft and deliberate. Someone was coming. Soya’s knuckles whitened around his sketchbook, his mind racing with panic. Had they been caught? Had the ministry sent someone to patrol?
Soya risked a glance around the corner of the shelf. The tall silhouette of a figure stood at the far end of the aisle, their features obscured by shadow. The figure raised a wand, and a soft light illuminated the space around them.
Soya ducked back quickly, pressing his back against the shelf as if he could disappear into it.
“Stay quiet,” Davonte breathed, inching closer.
The footsteps paused. For a moment, Soya was certain the figure had heard them; the silence was deafening. Then, the voice came, calm and steady:
“You can come out, boys. There’s no use hiding.”
Soya froze. He knew that voice—it carried with it an authority that was impossible to mistake. Slowly, he turned his head toward Davonte, who looked just as pale.
“Spellchecker,” Davonte mouthed.
Boromus Spellchecker. The headmaster.
Neither of them moved, holding onto the last sliver of hope that they might not be discovered, but the headmaster’s voice came again—gentler this time. “Soya. Davonte. You’re clever enough to sneak in here, but I expect you to be smart enough to know when it’s over. Come out, now.”
Davonte sighed, muttering under his breath, “How does he always know?”
Soya reluctantly stood, his knees shaking as he emerged from behind the shelves. Davonte followed suit, his usual grin replaced with something that looked suspiciously like guilt. The headmaster stood before them, bathed in the soft glow of his wand. His sharp gaze flickered over the boys, but to Soya’s surprise, there was no anger there.
Boromus Spellchecker studied them for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a faint sigh, he lowered his wand. “You’ve chosen an interesting place to spend your evening.”
Soya opened his mouth, but no words came. What could he possibly say? That they’d broken in out of desperation to find a missing friend? That they’d discovered something far larger than they could handle?
Beside him, Davonte scratched the back of his neck, managing a weak laugh. “We, uh... got lost?”
The headmaster raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “You can keep your excuses, Mr. Evander. I appreciate creativity, but not when it comes to rule-breaking.”
Soya braced himself for the inevitable punishment—detention, loss of house points, maybe worse—but instead, Spellchecker turned slightly and gestured for them to follow.
“Come with me.”
Soya blinked, startled. “Wait, you’re... you’re not mad?”
“Mad?” Spellchecker echoed, glancing back at them as he began walking toward the door. “No, I’m not mad, Mr. Vareen. Disappointed? Perhaps. Concerned? Certainly. But anger has no place in situations like this.”
Soya hesitated before falling into step beside Davonte. The headmaster’s calm demeanor unnerved him more than shouting ever could.
As they walked, Spellchecker continued speaking, his voice quiet but clear. “Curiosity is a powerful force. It can drive young witches and wizards to achieve great things. But it can also lead them into dangerous places—places they are not ready for.” He glanced over his shoulder, his sharp eyes fixing on Soya. “You’ve both stumbled into something far larger than yourselves. I can see that much.”
Davonte looked like he wanted to ask a dozen questions, but Spellchecker raised a hand to forestall him. “No, Mr. Evander, I will not explain everything to you. The answers you seek are not easily found, nor are they meant for children to uncover on their own.”
Soya felt a pang of frustration at being called a child, but the fear in his chest outweighed his pride. “But we’re just trying to help,” he blurted before he could stop himself. “Eliza’s missing, and no one else is—”
“I know,” Spellchecker interrupted softly, and for the first time, his stern expression softened. “Your loyalty to your friend is admirable, Soya. But some mysteries are not for you to solve.”
Soya’s throat tightened, the guilt and helplessness threatening to spill over. “Then what are we supposed to do?”
Spellchecker stopped walking, turning to face the boys fully. “You trust. You trust your professors, your headmaster, and those far older and more experienced than you. The magical world is vast and dangerous, and while you may not believe it, we are doing everything we can.”
Soya lowered his gaze, unable to meet the headmaster’s eyes. It wasn’t the answer he wanted. It wasn’t enough.
“You may feel powerless right now,” Spellchecker continued, his tone kinder, “but there will come a time when you’ll understand your place in all of this. Until then, stay close to your friends, learn all that you can, and remember—courage does not mean acting without fear. It means acting despite it.”
The words lingered in the silence, heavy but strangely comforting.
“Now,” Spellchecker said, gesturing toward the door, “I believe it’s time you both returned to your common room before I do get mad.”
Davonte managed a sheepish grin. “Right. On our way, Headmaster.”
As they turned to leave, Soya glanced back once more. The headmaster remained standing there, his wandlight flickering against the dark shelves, as though he, too, was searching for something hidden within the shadows.
The walk back to the Thylacea common room was tense and quiet. Soya’s mind swirled with the headmaster’s words, the weight of them settling like stones in his chest.
“You’ve both stumbled into something far larger than yourselves.”
He couldn’t stop thinking about it, replaying the conversation over and over. The headmaster hadn’t been angry, which was a relief, but there was something unsettling in how much he seemed to know—how much he wasn’t telling them.
Davonte, walking beside him, finally broke the silence. “You know, for a guy who catches students sneaking around, he’s surprisingly calm about it.”
Soya glanced over at him. “Calm? He made it sound like we’re way out of our depth.”
“Well, aren’t we?” Davonte said with a half-hearted chuckle, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I mean, we’re first-years trying to poke our noses into something even the ministry can’t figure out.”Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Soya didn’t answer. His fingers tightened around the strap of his sketchbook, its weight suddenly heavier than before. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Spellchecker was right—they were out of their depth. And worse, Eliza had already paid the price for it.
The stone archway leading to the Thylacea common room loomed ahead. Davonte muttered the password—“Courage through adaptability”—and the nearby portrait of the tasmanian devil grumbled as the wooden door creaked open to reveal the warm, wood-paneled room beyond.
The fire in the hearth crackled quietly, and a few students were still lingering, chatting in hushed tones or poring over their homework. Soya stepped inside, grateful for the familiar comfort of the room.
Davonte flopped down onto one of the overstuffed armchairs by the fire with a dramatic sigh. “Well, that was an adventure. Not exactly the ending I’d hoped for, but at least we didn’t get expelled.”
Soya didn’t sit. Instead, he lingered near the edge of the room, staring into the flames. The flickering light danced in his peripheral vision, but his thoughts were elsewhere.
“You alright, mate?” Davonte’s voice cut through the quiet.
“I don’t know,” Soya admitted, his voice soft. “Spellchecker didn’t punish us, but... he knows something. And he’s not telling us. He made it sound like we just have to sit here and wait, and I—” He stopped, his throat tight. “I don’t think I can do that. Not when Eliza’s still out there.”
Davonte leaned back in his chair, studying Soya carefully. “Yeah. I get it.” He rubbed his hands together, his usual humor subdued. “But you heard him—this isn’t just some school mystery. If we push too far, we’ll end up in real trouble. And if Eliza—” He hesitated, then shook his head. “If she’s caught up in all this, maybe we are out of our depth.”
Soya swallowed hard, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. Out of our depth. He didn’t want to believe it, but the fear gnawed at him, relentless and heavy.
“I don’t want to give up,” he whispered finally. “But I don’t know what to do.”
Davonte sighed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “We’re not giving up, alright? But let’s be smart about this. We’ve got classes, ministry officials breathing down our necks, and professors who already know something’s wrong. If we start acting like everything’s normal, maybe we’ll figure out a better way forward without getting caught.”
Soya glanced at him, his brow furrowed. “Act normal?”
“Yeah,” Davonte said with a faint grin. “You know—go to class, do our homework, pretend we’re just two perfectly innocent first-years who definitely didn’t sneak into the Whispering Archives. Trust me, we’ll think of something.”
Soya let out a small, uncertain laugh. “That’s your plan?”
“It’s a brilliant plan,” Davonte said, stretching his arms over his head. “At least until I come up with a better one.”
Soya sat down on the edge of the couch, the fire’s warmth seeping into his cold fingers. As much as he wanted to argue, Davonte was right. For now, they had to keep their heads down—blend in, act like nothing had happened, and wait for an opening.
But the knot in Soya’s chest refused to ease. Spellchecker’s words still echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of how little control they really had.
“Some mysteries are not for you to solve.”
And yet, as he stared into the flames, Soya couldn’t help but wonder if he was meant to solve this one—no matter how scared he was.
The morning sunlight poured through the Great Hall’s enchanted ceiling, the bright blues and golden clouds casting a serene glow over the rows of chattering students. For the first time in days, the tension in Soya’s chest felt slightly lighter. Maybe it was the comfort of the familiar routine or the hum of voices that drowned out his thoughts. Davonte, of course, wasn’t one for silence.
“So, mate,” Davonte said, scooping an impressive amount of scrambled eggs onto his plate, “think we’ll get anything exciting in class today? Maybe a nice spell to turn Sevrin’s face green?”
Soya shot him a look. “You’re going to get us both in trouble if you keep talking like that.”
“Trouble? Me?” Davonte feigned innocence, a piece of toast half in his mouth. “I’m practically a model student.”
“Right. A model student who drags me into forbidden archives and almost gets us caught.”
Davonte grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. “Admit it—you loved every second.”
Before Soya could respond, a stack of letters dropped onto the table, carried by a tawny owl with a disgruntled expression. A few students groaned as the usual mix of homework reminders and family notes landed in front of them. Soya ignored the fluttering parchment, too focused on his own tangled thoughts. Today had to be normal—just another day of classes, no sneaking, no close calls.
But normal was a relative concept at Austramore.
Their first lesson of the day was Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Marilla. The open-air classroom overlooked the mountains, the sharp, fresh wind carrying the scent of eucalyptus. It was one of the most unusual rooms in the school—no walls, only an enchanted dome to protect students from the elements.
Professor Marilla, standing tall in her deep blue robes, had a presence that demanded attention. Today, she was smiling faintly, a sign that whatever they were learning wouldn’t be dull.
“Good morning, everyone,” she began, her voice clear and commanding. “We are moving past theory today. It’s time to learn something practical—and fun.”
That got the students’ attention. Soya sat straighter, the nervous energy that had plagued him all morning settling into cautious curiosity. Davonte leaned close, whispering, “You heard her—fun. We might not even lose an arm.”
“Today,” Marilla continued, “we will practice Umbra Conjuris, a spell that creates a shadowy decoy. It’s a useful defense against magical beasts, dueling opponents, or simply to confuse an enemy.”
With a flick of her wand, she demonstrated. “Umbra Conjuris!”
A shadow burst forth from her feet, swirling and solidifying into a figure that looked like her, only slightly translucent. The shadow-Marilla mimicked her movements for a moment before dispersing into smoky tendrils.
The class erupted into excited murmurs.
“You will pair up for this,” Marilla said, gesturing for them to spread out. “One student will cast the decoy while the other tests its effectiveness. A properly conjured shadow will briefly distract, deflect, or confuse a simple jinx.”
Davonte grabbed Soya’s arm immediately. “Partners.”
“I don’t know about this,” Soya muttered as they found an empty space. “I couldn’t even make a proper light yesterday.”
“That was yesterday,” Davonte replied with a grin. “Today, we’re shadow warriors. Come on, give it a go.”
Soya took a deep breath and raised his wand. Picture it, like Marilla said. He imagined a shadowy version of himself, darker and ghost-like, standing ready to deflect an attack.
“Umbra Conjuris!” he said, pointing his wand downward.
A faint puff of smoke swirled, but it dissipated before it could form.
“Almost!” Davonte encouraged. “Try again. You need to really see it in your mind.”
Soya tried to shut out the noise around him, focusing instead on the shape of himself as a shadowy decoy. His wand felt steady this time.
“Umbra Conjuris!”
The smoke billowed upward, thick and dark, and this time it took shape—a shadowy figure standing beside him, mimicking his stance. It wasn’t perfect, its edges blurred, but it held for several seconds before dissolving.
Davonte whooped. “That’s it, mate! You’ve got it!”
A warm feeling of accomplishment spread through Soya’s chest. It wasn’t much, but it was something—a sign that maybe he wasn’t so hopeless after all. Across the field, Professor Marilla nodded approvingly as she passed by, her sharp gaze lingering on Soya for just a moment.
“Not bad, Mr. Vareen,” she said. “Keep practicing. Your focus will improve.”
Nearby, Davonte tried his own spell. His shadow burst out in a comically exaggerated form—twice his height and far too wide. Soya snorted, unable to stop the laugh that escaped him.
“Looks like a troll version of you,” Soya teased.
“I’ll take it,” Davonte replied with a satisfied grin. “Shadow-me could smash a Basilisk.”
By the time the class ended, Soya felt lighter than he had in days. The students filtered out of the open-air room, their chatter filled with the usual post-lesson energy. Davonte walked beside him, his wand twirling between his fingers.
“See?” Davonte said. “You killed it today. You’ve got shadow power now.”
“Yeah,” Soya replied softly, his lips tugging into a smile. For the first time in a while, he felt like maybe he could handle this world after all.
But as they made their way toward the next class, the feeling of unease crept back in. The ministry officials still lingered in the corridors, their watchful eyes catching every movement. And despite the success of the morning, Eliza’s absence loomed like a shadow Soya couldn’t dispel.
“Don’t worry,” Davonte said, as if sensing his friend’s thoughts. “We’ll figure this out.”
Soya nodded, forcing himself to believe it.
But the nagging feeling in his chest remained, whispering that the shadows they were chasing were far more dangerous than they realized.
The Great Hall was unusually subdued as the students filed in for dinner that evening. The usual cheerful hum of conversation was quieter, replaced by hushed whispers and stolen glances. Even the enchanted ceiling, which typically reflected the outside sky, seemed darker—heavy clouds rolling slowly across its expanse. Soya didn’t need to ask why. The tension that had been building all week now hung in the air like a storm about to break.
Soya and Davonte sat at the Thylacea table, their plates barely touched. Davonte tapped his fork rhythmically against the edge of his plate, his restless energy radiating out. “What’s with everyone? You’d think someone declared broccoli illegal or something.”
Soya glanced around the hall, noticing the way students were shifting in their seats, looking up at the staff table where Boromus Spellchecker now stood. The headmaster’s expression was grave, his usually sharp eyes softer but no less serious.
“Something’s about to happen,” Soya murmured.
“Guess we’re about to find out,” Davonte replied, dropping his fork with a clatter.
A hush fell over the room as the headmaster raised his hand, a gesture so simple yet commanding. Every student, from the eldest seventh-years to the youngest first-years, fell silent, their eyes fixed on him.
“Good evening, students,” Spellchecker began, his deep voice carrying across the hall with ease. “I won’t keep you from your dinner long, but it is time to address some matters of concern. As many of you have no doubt noticed, there have been changes within the castle of late. Changes that, while temporary, are for your safety.”
A ripple of murmurs broke through, quickly silenced by the headmaster’s glance.
“Due to recent events,” he continued, “new rules will be in effect beginning tonight. For the time being, no student is permitted to be outside of their house common rooms past sunset unless accompanied by a professor or a prefect.”
The whispers started again, louder this time. Soya felt his stomach sink as the weight of the announcement hit him. Sunset? That was a massive restriction. Even first-years had some freedom to wander the halls in the evenings. This was different—far stricter than anything he’d seen so far.
“Furthermore,” Spellchecker said, his tone brooking no argument, “patrols will be increased, and any students found disregarding this rule will face severe consequences. The safety of every student at Austramore is my highest priority, and while I cannot discuss the specifics, I ask you all to trust in your professors and the Ministry officials who remain on-site.”
Soya exchanged a glance with Davonte, whose brows had furrowed deeply. Around them, the conversations swelled again—some confused, some angry, others frightened.
“I knew it,” Davonte whispered under his breath. “They’re not telling us something.”
Soya swallowed hard, looking up at the headmaster. Spellchecker’s gaze passed over the hall, landing briefly—just briefly—on Soya himself. It was only for a second, but it was enough to send a chill down his spine. The headmaster knew. He always knew.
The headmaster’s voice rang out again, firm but calm. “Now, I trust you will all take these measures seriously. We must be vigilant and cautious in uncertain times. But let me also say this—Austramore has stood for centuries. It has seen storms far greater than this, and it has weathered them all. As long as we stand together, as a school and as a family, we will endure.”
With that, he gave a small nod and returned to his seat at the center of the staff table. The enchanted ceiling above seemed to brighten faintly, the dark clouds parting just enough to reveal glimpses of starlight.
But for Soya, the atmosphere didn’t feel any lighter. Around him, the other students were already talking in low, frantic voices, speculating about what had caused such drastic measures. He caught snippets here and there—“Eliza’s disappearance,” “the ministry wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t serious,” “something’s hunting the students”—but no one seemed to have answers.
Davonte let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Sunset curfew, huh? They’re practically locking us in.”
“It’s for safety,” Soya said quietly, though the words felt hollow even as he said them. His mind was racing, trying to piece it all together. This was more than just Eliza. Spellchecker’s warnings, the basilisk in the grove, Sage and Sevrin’s involvement—it was all part of something bigger.
And yet, no one was telling them the whole truth.
“Yeah, well, it won’t stop us, right?” Davonte said, trying to sound casual, but his voice carried a sharper edge. “We’re still going to figure this out. If anything, this just means we’re getting close.”
Soya stared down at his plate, his appetite completely gone. He wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe they could help Eliza, uncover the truth, and stay ahead of whatever storm was coming. But as he listened to the worried voices all around him, all he could think about was how much bigger this was than them.
And how small he still felt.