The potions classroom was cool and dimly lit, the stone walls lined with ancient shelves packed with vials of shimmering liquids, preserved herbs, and glass jars containing things most students preferred not to look at too closely. The scent of crushed roots and bubbling brews filled the air, thick with the underlying sharpness of something vaguely acidic.

  At the front of the room, standing behind his desk with his usual unwavering posture, was Professor Seikan Blackthorn.

  His emerald green eyes scanned the class with the same quiet intensity that had made even the most confident students hesitate under his gaze. With his robes perfectly pressed and his hands clasped behind his back, he looked more like a strategist preparing for battle than a professor leading a lesson.

  “Today,” Seikan began, his voice sharp and precise, “we will be brewing a Concentrated Nightshade Draught. A potion not meant for consumption, but rather an advanced study in controlled toxicity and extraction refinement.”

  There was a brief pause.

  Then Davonte leaned over to Soya, whispering, “So we’re just brewing straight-up poison?”

  Seikan did not look up, but his voice carried across the room without effort.

  “If you wish to phrase it in the most brainless way possible, then yes.”

  Davonte sat up straight immediately. “Right. Yep. Love that. Totally listening.”

  A few students snickered, but none dared to join in too openly.

  Seikan continued smoothly, “The Nightshade Draught is a particularly volatile potion—not because of its lethality, but because of the precision required to stabilize it. A single misstep in ingredient preparation will cause the mixture to curdle into something entirely useless.”

  Tiana raised a hand, her steel-blue hair catching the light as she spoke. “What are its common uses, Professor?”

  Seikan’s gaze flickered to her. “Historically, it has been used to create antidotes to certain venom-based spells and creature bites. However, in its raw state, it is—” He paused for the slightest moment. “—highly persuasive in negotiations where one requires a bargaining advantage.”

  A few students shifted uncomfortably, while others, like Draven, scribbled notes with interest.

  “Fortunately for you all,” Seikan continued, unbothered by their reactions, “we will be working with a diluted version. The school governors would frown upon first-years poisoning themselves so early in the academic year.”

  Kalsei, sitting near the back, smirked slightly. “So it’s more of a gentle poison?”

  Seikan’s lips twitched, just barely suppressing amusement. “A contained one, if you follow instructions correctly.”

  The students got to work, gathering their ingredients and setting up their stations.

  Soya, working alongside Draven and Davonte, focused on slicing his withered nightshade leaves into thin, even strips, his movements calm and methodical.

  Across the room, Sage worked alone, his movements just as precise, if not more so—his entire focus narrowed in on his work, as if determined to prove something.

  Seikan’s sharp gaze swept the classroom, watching each student carefully, ensuring that no one deviated too far from the instructions.

  The air filled with the bubbling of cauldrons, the quiet hum of muttered incantations, and the occasional hiss of a mixture reacting slightly too aggressively.

  Soya exhaled slowly, his fingers steady as he stirred his potion exactly as instructed.

  The bubbling and hissing of cauldrons filled the potions classroom, the air thick with the scent of nightshade, crushed roots, and the faint, almost metallic tang of brewing magic. The room had settled into a steady rhythm—soft mutterings of incantations, the occasional clink of stirring rods against metal, and the faint rustle of parchment as students referenced their notes.

  Soya, ever meticulous, kept his movements controlled and precise, his hand stirring in slow, deliberate motions as instructed. His potion had taken on the correct shade of deep indigo, the surface shimmering faintly, meaning he had followed the process correctly.

  Across from him, Draven observed with his usual quiet intensity, flipping through his handwritten notes as he checked their progress.

  “You measured the powdered aconite correctly,” Draven murmured, his eyes darting toward Soya’s neatly arranged workspace. “That’s why your viscosity is stable.”

  Soya nodded slightly, adjusting his grip on the stirring rod. “Yours looks the same,” he noted, glancing at Draven’s cauldron, which was just as refined, a near-perfect match to his own.

  Draven’s lips quirked in satisfaction. “Naturally.”

  Meanwhile, Davonte, who had been following the instructions loosely at best, frowned at his own cauldron, which had taken on an unsettling murky brown color instead of the intended deep indigo.

  “…This is fine,” Davonte muttered.

  “It is not fine,” Draven said without looking up.

  “Could still be useful,” Davonte reasoned. “Maybe a mildly inconvenient poison instead of a lethal one.”

  Soya sighed, rubbing his temple as Davonte tried to salvage his potion.

  A few cauldrons over, Sage’s potion was flawless—a perfect deep violet with no inconsistencies, his work nearly indistinguishable from Seikan’s own demonstration cauldron.

  Seikan’s sharp green eyes swept the room, pausing just long enough to acknowledge Sage’s accuracy before moving on. He gave no praise, but Sage still caught the glance—and for him, that was enough.

  Finally, as the last of the potions reached their final stages, Seikan spoke.

  "Begin bottling your samples. Carefully. I would prefer to leave this lesson without needing to visit the infirmary."

  The students hurried to comply, using their wands to guide the liquid into small, sealed glass vials before placing them neatly into labeled containers.

  Davonte, still scowling at his disastrous concoction, muttered under his breath before quickly bottling whatever it had become.

  Seikan strode to the front of the room, folding his hands behind his back.

  “For some of you, this was a passable attempt,” he stated, his gaze sweeping across the classroom. “For others… I will have further discussions about the meaning of following instructions.”

  Davonte did not meet his gaze.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “With that, you are dismissed. Clear your stations.”

  The sound of chairs scraping against the stone floor filled the room as students gathered their belongings.

  As Soya packed away his notebook, he felt a presence linger nearby.

  He glanced up.

  Sage was standing not too far from their table, his expression unreadable.

  Soya tensed just slightly out of instinct.

  But Sage said nothing.

  Instead, after a brief pause, he simply turned and left the room—walking ahead of them as the students began filtering out toward Charms class.

  “Man,” Davonte groaned as they stepped into the hallway, “you think this class was rough? I love Professor Coorong, but I swear if he makes us practice more high-speed wandwork today, I’m throwing myself into the nearest lake.”

  “You wouldn’t make it past five minutes,” Draven remarked.

  “I would thrive,” Davonte argued.

  The Charms classroom was one of the more lively spaces at Austramore. Unlike the cold discipline of Potions or the rigid structure of Transfiguration, Charms always felt unpredictable—partly because of Professor Jasper Coorong’s unique teaching methods, and partly because of the sheer chaotic energy that came with learning spells meant for practical use.

  Soya and his friends filed into the room, taking their usual seats near the middle, not too close to the front to be questioned immediately, but not far enough to seem inattentive.

  Professor Coorong was already at the front of the room, perched casually on his desk, one leg swinging slightly as he tossed a small enchanted ball between his hands.

  “Right then, my lovely little spellcasters,” he greeted with a grin, his colorful robes shifting in hue as he moved. “Today, we are going to be working on consecutive casting—also known as not standing there like a stunned mullet after every spell you fire off.”

  Davonte leaned over to Soya, whispering, “That’s a very specific way of putting it.”

  Soya just nodded, already resigned to the chaos that was a Coorong lesson.

  Professor Coorong hopped off his desk and clapped his hands together. “Now, most of you have gotten the hang of individual spellwork. Great. Fantastic. But what happens when you actually need to use them quickly?”

  Silence.

  Kalsei raised a hand. “We die?”

  Professor Coorong beamed. “Exactly! Or worse—you look like an absolute amateur. And we can’t have that, can we?”

  A few students snickered while others shifted uneasily, already sensing where this was going.

  “I’m going to pair you up,” Professor Coorong continued, pacing along the front of the room, “and you will practice chaining spells together. Not just one and done, but moving from one spell to the next smoothly.”

  Davonte groaned dramatically, leaning back in his chair. “I knew it. The lake is calling me.”

  “Davonte,” Tiana said dryly, “if you spent half as much effort practicing as you do complaining, you’d be a magical prodigy by now.”

  “You underestimate my commitment to suffering.”

  Professor Coorong began listing partners, moving through the room quickly.

  “Tiana, you’re with Kalsei.”

  “Draven, you’re with Saunak.”

  “Soya… you’re with Sage.”

  Soya froze.

  Beside him, Davonte visibly stiffened, his gaze flicking toward Sage immediately.

  Sage himself, who had been half-doodling in his notes out of boredom, paused mid-motion before exhaling sharply.

  “Right,” Sage muttered, standing. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Soya, tense but unwilling to argue, nodded hesitantly and got to his feet.

  Davonte grabbed Soya’s wrist as he passed.

  “You sure about this?” he murmured, voice low enough that only Soya could hear.

  Soya hesitated—just for a second—before giving a small nod.

  “…Yeah.”

  Davonte did not look convinced.

  But he let go.

  As Soya moved across the room to stand beside Sage, Professor Coorong waved his wand, sending enchanted training dummies into place.

  “Alright, kids. Let’s see what you’ve got!”

  Soya exhaled slowly, gripping his wand.

  Sage rolled his shoulders, his expression unreadable.

  This was going to be…

  Interesting.

  The classroom was alive with motion, the flickering hum of spells being cast one after another filling the air. Professor Coorong, ever the enthusiastic conductor of chaos, weaved between pairs of students, offering quick corrections and the occasional encouraging whistle whenever someone actually managed a smooth transition between spells.

  Soya stood beside Sage, gripping his wand lightly, his body already naturally poised for spellwork.

  Sage, on the other hand, had his usual stiff posture, his narrowed eyes fixed on the training dummy as if it had personally insulted him.

  Professor Coorong clapped his hands together. “Alright, kids! Chaining spells is about fluidity—you don’t stop and think between each spell, you just move. Think of it like music! Rhythm! Flow! If you hesitate, you’re done! If you fumble your wand movement, you’ll trip over your own spellwork! So don’t stop, don’t overthink—just cast.”

  Sage’s jaw tightened slightly. “I don’t fumble.”

  Soya blinked up at him. “I don’t think he was talking about you specifically.”

  Sage just grunted, raising his wand.

  Before Soya could suggest how to actually start, Sage flicked his wand sharply—

  “Expulso!”

  A blast of energy shot from his wand, striking the training dummy hard enough to send it skidding backward.

  Before the energy had even dissipated, Sage snapped his wand again—

  “Depulso!”

  Another wave of force hit the dummy, sending it crashing into the wall with a heavy thud.

  Soya blinked. “…That works, too.”

  Sage huffed, lowering his wand. “See? Not hard.”

  Soya shifted slightly. “I think the goal was to practice more than just shoving it into a wall.”

  Sage frowned. “It’s efficient.”

  Soya tilted his head, considering, before carefully repeating Sage’s words back to him, except…

  Softer.

  Less aggressive.

  “You mean it’s a simple approach that gets the job done?”

  Sage paused. “…Yeah.”

  Soya gave a small nod, pretending not to notice the way Sage’s expression flickered for a fraction of a second.

  “Alright,” Soya said, adjusting his grip on his wand. “Your turn to defend. Let me try.”

  Sage crossed his arms but didn’t argue. He stepped aside, gesturing vaguely at the training dummy. “Go ahead.”

  Soya hesitated for a split second before raising his wand.

  “Expelliarmus!”

  A red bolt flashed forward, striking the dummy. The force dislodged a small wooden rod from its hands, sending it clattering to the floor.

  Before Sage could say anything, Soya quickly snapped his wand into the next motion.

  “Depulso.”

  This time, the dummy lurched backward, skidding slightly—but not with as much force as when Sage had blasted it.

  Soya exhaled, lowering his wand.

  Sage watched him for a moment. “You hesitated between them.”

  Soya nodded. “Yeah, I’m still getting used to switching fast.”

  Sage’s arms remained crossed. “Then you should practice more.”

  Soya glanced up at him.

  And, once again—

  He repeated Sage’s words back to him.

  Softer.

  “You mean I should keep working on it so it comes naturally?”

  Sage stiffened slightly.

  “…Yeah.”

  Professor Coorong, who had been casually strolling past, grinned. “Oh, very nice, Vareen! I like how you’re putting your own rhythm into it!”

  Sage scowled. “It was slow.”

  Soya shrugged. “I’ll get better.”

  Sage opened his mouth, ready to argue—

  But something about the way Soya had said it made him pause.

  Because he had said it calmly.

  No frustration. No self-doubt.

  Just a simple statement of fact.

  Soya would get better.

  He was certain of it.

  Sage wasn’t used to that kind of confidence.

  He looked away, gripping his wand a little tighter. “…Fine. Let’s try again.”

  Soya nodded, stepping back into position.

  Davonte, from across the room, glanced over at them warily, clearly not thrilled about this arrangement.

  But Draven, who had been watching silently, just hummed in quiet amusement.

  Because while Soya was practicing spellwork—

  He was also doing something else.

  Something much harder.

  Teaching Sage how to talk to people.