Inside the quaint bookstore nestled between the charming buildings of Fernwick, Draven and Tiana wandered leisurely among towering shelves filled with ancient tomes and freshly printed volumes, the air thick with the comforting scent of aged parchment and ink. Warm lanterns cast pools of gentle light across wooden tables piled high with new arrivals, each stack promising untold discoveries and tantalizing secrets hidden within their pages.

  Draven adjusted his emerald robes absently, his normally impassive face illuminated with quiet enthusiasm as he picked up a particularly intriguing book titled Advanced Magical Theory: Unraveling Enchantments and Counter-Curses. His fingers traced the embossed title with reverence, eyes glittering with interest. "Fascinating," he murmured quietly, half to himself. "They've finally released the second volume—Professor Blackthorn mentioned it last month, remember?"

  Beside him, Tiana gently plucked another copy of the same book from the table, her expression serene yet unmistakably excited as she flipped through the pages, absorbing the text swiftly but carefully. "He did," she agreed, her voice a warm, melodic whisper that carried softly through the store. "I was beginning to think it was never going to come out. It's supposed to completely redefine our understanding of protective enchantments."

  Draven hummed thoughtfully, turning another page and scanning the contents with an analytical gaze. "It delves deeper into magical constructs than anything we've had access to before. This could revolutionize how we approach defensive magic entirely."

  Tiana nodded thoughtfully, brushing a lock of steel-blue hair from her face as she lifted her gaze to meet Draven’s. Her dark eyes, usually reserved, sparkled with genuine enthusiasm as she spoke. "It’s refreshing, isn’t it? To see new theories emerge after centuries of stagnation. Austramore could benefit from a little innovation."

  Draven's lips curved subtly in agreement, a rare smile of approval passing across his typically serious face. "You would certainly be the one to lead that charge. Professor Blackthorn once said you have the sharpest mind in our year."

  Tiana’s cheeks flushed faintly, though she maintained her poised composure, gracefully turning her attention back to the book in her hands. "He mentioned the same about you," she countered softly, her tone warm with mutual respect. "Perhaps together, we might uncover ideas even he hasn't considered."

  Draven tilted his head, considering her thoughtfully for a long moment before responding. "I believe we could," he admitted finally, his voice calm and sincere. "Though Professor Blackthorn's standards are notoriously high."

  Tiana chuckled quietly, the gentle sound rare enough to draw a brief, intrigued glance from Draven. "True," she conceded, turning a page thoughtfully. "But that's what makes this field fascinating. No matter how much we learn, there's always something deeper waiting beneath the surface."

  Draven’s expression softened slightly, a hint of admiration visible in his careful eyes. "I suppose that’s why we keep searching," he replied simply, pausing briefly to inspect a complex diagram illustrating enchantment runes. "No matter how many answers we find, the questions never truly end."

  They fell into a comfortable silence, each absorbed in their respective copies of the book, occasionally exchanging quiet comments about the theories they discovered, effortlessly losing themselves in the shared joy of knowledge. Around them, the bookstore hummed with a gentle, inviting energy, its atmosphere perfectly suited to their quiet companionship.

  For Tiana, who had spent so long navigating the complexities of her past alone, it felt surprisingly comforting to share such simple pleasures with someone who understood the depth of her passion. And for Draven, whose world had always been shaped by logic and detached observation, this quiet moment of connection was a rare and welcome experience—one he had not anticipated finding in a quiet bookstore tucked away in Fernwick.

  Together, immersed in their discoveries, they lingered, unaware of time passing, bound by the gentle magic of curiosity and the quiet, shared excitement of unraveling the secrets held within each page.

  Davonte's eyes sparkled with childlike excitement as they stepped into the vibrant candy shop, the sweet aroma of caramel and sugar immediately enveloping them in a comforting embrace. Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, packed full of colorful sweets that shimmered under magical enchantments—glittering chocolates shaped like dragons, sugar-spun phoenix feathers that floated gracefully in jars, and licorice wands that occasionally shot harmless sparks into the air.

  Sage, however, stood stiffly by the door, his expression an unconvincing mask of disinterest. The sweet scents and cheerful decor seemed to irritate him, as if their very existence was an affront to his carefully crafted image. His dark eyes flickered impatiently around the room before finally settling on Davonte, who was already enthusiastically filling a bag with every treat within arm’s reach.

  "Really, Evander?" Sage drawled dryly, folding his arms tightly across his chest. "We’re nearly teenagers. Isn’t it time you grew out of this?"

  Davonte shot Sage a sidelong glance, feigning exaggerated hurt as he dramatically dropped another handful of vibrant jellybeans into his bag. "Firstly, you underestimate my maturity, mate. Secondly, you're never too old for candy. It’s scientifically proven."

  Sage rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Scientifically proven, is it?"

  Davonte nodded sagely, popping a candy-coated chocolate into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully before answering with utmost seriousness. "Absolutely. Ask Draven. It's something to do with magical metabolism or whatever."

  Sage sighed, a hint of exasperation creeping into his usually cold demeanor. "I'm fairly certain Draven never said anything remotely like that."

  Davonte merely shrugged, entirely unbothered. "He might have. Honestly, half the time I just nod and pretend to listen when he gets too technical." He grinned wickedly, holding out a brightly colored lollipop toward Sage. "Go on, try one. Even someone like you can’t hate everything."

  Sage stared down at the candy as if it were poisonous, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I think I'll pass," he said flatly, deliberately ignoring the way Davonte's grin faltered slightly.

  Undeterred, Davonte waved the lollipop playfully in front of Sage’s face. "Your loss," he quipped lightly, though his tone grew slightly softer as he spoke again. "You know, it wouldn’t hurt to loosen up just a little."

  Sage’s jaw tightened, his voice lowering defensively. "Loosening up isn’t exactly a luxury I've had much experience with."

  Davonte paused, momentarily taken aback by Sage’s unexpectedly honest reply. He regarded Sage carefully, his expression turning serious. "Maybe that's the problem," he said quietly, lowering his voice just enough to convey sincerity. "You’re allowed to have fun once in a while, Blackthorn. You don’t have to punish yourself."

  Sage looked away abruptly, his carefully maintained mask slipping just enough to reveal a flicker of vulnerability behind his eyes. He shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat quietly as he quickly rebuilt his composure. "You know nothing about it," he muttered curtly, the edge returning to his voice like a sharpened blade.

  Davonte frowned slightly but backed off, sensing he'd reached a line Sage wasn’t ready to cross. He turned back toward the candies, attempting to regain the lighthearted mood. "Fine, suit yourself. But I'm getting you a bag anyway. Consider it charity."

  "Don't bother," Sage replied, his voice returning to its usual clipped tone. "I doubt anything here is to my taste."

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  Davonte, ignoring the pointed rebuff, began filling a second bag anyway, quietly determined to find something Sage might secretly enjoy, even if the stubborn boy wouldn't admit it. Sage watched with a conflicted expression, a mixture of annoyance, curiosity, and reluctant amusement tugging at his carefully guarded features.

  After a moment, Sage finally shook his head, clearly having reached his limit. "I'm going to do my own thing," he announced brusquely, turning sharply on his heel toward the exit.

  Davonte looked up in mild surprise, his hand pausing halfway into a jar of sugary frogs. "Alright," he called after Sage, keeping his voice neutral, though inwardly he couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. "We'll meet up later."

  Sage hesitated briefly by the door, shoulders tense. Without looking back, he mumbled a short, begrudging acknowledgment, "Yeah… later," before slipping out onto the bustling street beyond, leaving Davonte alone amidst a sea of sweets and unanswered questions.

  Inside the broom shop, the air buzzed with palpable excitement. Polished broomsticks floated serenely in neat rows along the walls, gently bobbing as though eager to take flight. Afternoon sunlight streamed through wide windows, illuminating the polished wood and sleek bristles of the finely crafted brooms, each promising breathtaking speed and precision. The aroma of freshly lacquered timber and subtle enchantments mingled warmly, adding to the charm of the space.

  Kalsei, practically vibrating with enthusiasm, tugged Soya gently by the sleeve toward a dazzling display in the shop's center. His eyes shimmered with anticipation as he waved dramatically at the impressive array of flying brooms.

  "Soya! Look at these—they just got the latest Nimbus Thunderwinds in stock!" Kalsei exclaimed brightly, pointing excitedly at a sleek broom etched with shimmering silver runes that pulsed softly with latent magic. "It’s one of the fastest models ever created. Imagine the speed! Imagine the control!"

  Soya smiled warmly at his friend’s boundless excitement, though beneath his cheerful expression, his stomach twisted uneasily. He had never admitted to anyone that the thought of flying terrified him—being so high up on nothing more than enchanted wood was a thought that filled him with dread rather than excitement. Still, Kalsei was so earnest, so passionate, that Soya couldn't bring himself to dampen his friend's spirits.

  "They do look impressive," Soya managed, voice steady despite the subtle tension in his shoulders. He peered closer at the broom, forcing a smile. "You thinking of getting one?"

  Kalsei nodded eagerly, brushing a lock of hair from his eyes. "Absolutely! I need an upgrade for next year's Quidditch season. The new first-years won't know what hit them when they see me zooming around the pitch on one of these."

  Soya chuckled softly, imagining Kalsei dramatically soaring above the Quidditch field, effortlessly charming and distracting both teammates and opponents alike. "I don't doubt you'll make quite the impression," he replied, his smile genuine despite the knot in his stomach tightening slightly as he imagined himself attempting the same.

  Kalsei glanced at him curiously, his golden eyes softening slightly in concern. "Are you alright, Soya? You look a little pale."

  Soya quickly waved off the concern, forcing his voice into a cheerful tone. "Oh, I'm fine—just imagining what it would feel like to ride something so fast. You know, trying to wrap my head around the whole flying-on-a-stick thing."

  Kalsei laughed brightly, nodding with understanding. "I get it—it can be pretty intimidating if you're not used to it. But trust me, once you're up there, it's incredible. The freedom is like nothing else." He leaned closer conspiratorially, voice lowering as if sharing a secret. "Next year, I'll teach you myself. No pressure, no expectations. Just us and the wind in our hair. It'll be fun!"

  Soya swallowed nervously, though Kalsei’s kindness touched him deeply. The genuine offer made him feel a little less apprehensive, even if he wasn't entirely convinced. "Thanks, Kalsei," he murmured sincerely, a gentle smile softening his features. "I might just take you up on that—eventually."

  Kalsei beamed, clearly satisfied with the answer. He turned once more toward the sleek broomsticks, happily running his fingers over the polished handles as he chatted animatedly about speed records and broom-handling techniques. Soya listened attentively, his anxiety temporarily overshadowed by Kalsei’s infectious excitement.

  After a while, Kalsei glanced at the clock and sighed dramatically, shaking his head with exaggerated regret. "As much as I'd love to stay here all day, I really do need a new cloak before next term," he declared decisively, stepping toward the shop's door. "I have to impress the new first-years, you know—can’t let them think I'm anything less than spectacular."

  Soya laughed, shaking his head fondly at Kalsei’s cheerful vanity. "I don’t think there’s much chance of that," he teased gently. "I’m pretty sure you've already got the spectacular part down."

  Kalsei winked playfully, his cheeks flushed slightly. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Vareen," he joked warmly, opening the door to the lively street outside. "I'll catch up with you later. Make sure you have some fun exploring, alright?"

  "Promise," Soya replied, offering a small wave as Kalsei disappeared into the bustling street.

  Now alone, Soya took a deep breath, allowing the cheerful sounds and warm sunlight of Fernwick to soothe away his lingering nerves. He turned slowly, contemplating his next destination, eager to take advantage of the rare opportunity to simply explore and unwind at his own pace.

  Soya wandered leisurely through the lively streets of Fernwick, the gentle buzz of chatter and laughter mingling with the soft rustle of the breeze through trees lining the cobbled paths. Warm golden light bathed the town, casting a comforting glow over the quaint storefronts, each shop inviting and charming in its own way. His eyes drifted over colorful shop windows filled with exotic potions, enchanted trinkets, and whimsical clothing, until suddenly, something else entirely captured his attention.

  Ahead of him stood a small, cozy shop he’d never noticed before. Its sign, adorned with delicate script, read "Fernwick Familiars." Intrigued, Soya stepped closer, drawn in by the faint sounds of cheerful chirping and quiet mewing that spilled gently through the slightly open door. But what truly caught his attention was the sight behind the window: Sage Blackthorn stood motionless, his dark eyes utterly fixated upon a small black kitten nestled comfortably behind the glass.

  Soya paused, blinking in surprise as he watched Sage stare at the tiny creature. Sage was utterly transfixed, completely absorbed in a silent, intense staring contest with the kitten. It was strange—almost amusing—to see someone as cold and guarded as Sage, completely at the mercy of a tiny, fluffy animal.

  A soft, thoughtful smile spread across Soya’s lips as he recalled the brief moment in the common room when Sage had quietly mentioned, in passing and quickly brushed off, wanting a kitten. At the time, Soya hadn't been entirely sure he’d even heard correctly. But now, seeing Sage's uncharacteristic fascination with the kitten, he knew he had.

  Without giving it further thought, Soya quietly stepped into the shop. Sage didn't so much as glance up, still locked in his unwavering gaze with the tiny feline. Soya moved silently toward the shopkeeper, who looked up from a ledger with a gentle smile. Soya nodded toward the black kitten and murmured quietly, "I'd like to purchase that one, please."

  The shopkeeper glanced toward the kitten, following Soya’s gaze to where Sage stood frozen in contemplation. Understanding dawned in the shopkeeper's eyes, along with a knowing smile. "Of course," she whispered warmly. "That's a lovely choice. Do you want me to box him up?"

  Soya shook his head gently, unable to suppress the small smile forming on his lips as he quietly gestured toward Sage. "No need. It's for him. Would you mind letting him know?"

  The shopkeeper's smile deepened, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she nodded, "Absolutely."

  With a quiet thank you and a final glance at Sage, Soya stepped lightly out of the shop, feeling warmth and satisfaction spread pleasantly through his chest. He lingered briefly by the window, unable to resist stealing one more glance inside.

  The shopkeeper had approached Sage quietly, carefully keeping her voice gentle to avoid startling him. "Would you like a carrier for the kitten?"

  Sage blinked, his intense concentration breaking abruptly as he turned, startled and confused. "What?" he asked, eyebrows knitting together in wary suspicion. "Why would I need a carrier?"

  She smiled kindly, motioning to the black kitten, who was now pawing playfully at the glass. "Your friend already purchased him for you. He seemed certain you were meant for each other."

  Sage's confusion melted into a mixture of surprise and something deeper, something vulnerable. He spun toward the shop's window just in time to catch sight of Soya's retreating figure disappearing down the bustling street. Warmth surged into Sage's chest, unsettling yet undeniably pleasant.

  He turned back to the kitten, who now watched him with vibrant, intelligent eyes, its tiny head tilted inquisitively. The feline was dark as the void, silky fur shining faintly beneath the magical lanterns. Slowly, tentatively, Sage reached out, placing one finger gently against the glass.

  The kitten pressed its paw softly against the opposite side, eyes locked on Sage's, its small mouth parting in a silent mew.

  Sage felt something within him shift slightly, an unfamiliar softness he had fought so hard against. He exhaled quietly, almost inaudibly, and nodded to the shopkeeper. "Yes, please," he murmured softly, his voice unusually gentle. "I'll take the carrier."

  As Sage waited quietly by the counter, a strange, foreign feeling settled into his heart—one he couldn't quite name but that felt inexplicably right. He glanced once more out the window in the direction Soya had gone, lips tugging into the faintest hint of a smile.