It was a hot summer evening, and the Arcturus family sat in the living room with the doors open to let in the cool air.
Everyone was full after a delicious dinner prepared by Mrs. Arcturus and Olivia. Despite being in her late sixties, Mrs. Arcturus looked remarkably good for her age. She had aged gracefully—her silver hair was tied perfectly into a neat bun, and she wore a colourful dress with a bright orange and red floral pattern.
She sat beside Olivia, sipping tea and gossiping about the latest news in their community. Mrs. Arcturus was especially fond of drinking tea—particularly the fancy blends brewed in Japan. Every time she spoke about them, her face lit up with joy.
Near the door, an old man sat in a rocking chair, listening to the radio. Two children played on the floor nearby, their game of Exploding Dots causing enough noise to irritate their grandfather.
"Take it upstairs!" growled the old man.
The children burst into laughter and ran off.
It was an ordinary day in the Arcturus household. No one could have expected what was about to happen.
Without warning, the once-cold fireplace suddenly blazed with blue flames. Two figures stepped out. They were cloaked in black, and one of them was holding a child.
"Oh my! Alexandre, come take a look! Your son has finally decided to visit—and he brought your grandson with him," said Lady Arcturus, standing to greet them.
"Why didn't you tell us you were coming today? We could've delayed dinner for you," said Alexandre in a warm, considerate tone.
"Good evening, Mother. Father. No need to worry—we're quite okay," said the man who had just emerged from the fireplace.
He was tall, with long black hair tied in the same manner as Lady Arcturus. From the way he spoke and carried himself, it was obvious he belonged to the family. He resembled Alexandre in both presence and mannerisms.
"Come, sit down. Luna, give me the child—I imagine you're tired from carrying him," he said gently.
Luna had flowing blonde hair and striking grey eyes that resembled storm clouds.
"Father, you have to forgive me, but we are not here to stay. Is Arthur not back from work yet?" she asked in a sombre tone.
"He should be here in a minute," Olivia replied, still seated on the sofa.
"Sorry for not greeting you sooner, my dearest sister-in-law," the man added with a soft smile toward Olivia.
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Suddenly, the fireplace flared to life once more, and another man stepped out, carrying a briefcase.
"Brother, you're here—and Luna as well," said Arthur.
He looked dreadful. His suit was covered in mud and torn in several places.
"I reckon it's another raid," said the man, embracing Arthur.
"What brings you here today? It's not like you to visit without warning," Arthur asked with concern.
"Bad news. Very bad news, I'm afraid," the man replied softly. "Luna and I... we're about to be hunted by the entire world—because of that thing."
He turned to Arthur, placing a hand firmly on his shoulder and locking eyes with him.
"I need you to look after my son, Art. You have to promise me you'll take care of him."
"You've been cursed," Arthur said at once.
The man looked down, silent for a moment.
"Yes," he finally admitted.
"We can't say who did it," Luna added, tears rolling down her cheeks. "And we can't stay with James. If we do... he'll die."
"I understand," Arthur said without hesitation.
"Whatever you hear or see—don't believe it," the man warned. "It's all lies, just a cover-up for what they've done."
His voice was nearly drowned out by the sound of the child waking and crying.
"Brother... I need you to take the vow. If they ever discover James, they must never know he's my son."
The room fell into a heavy silence.
"Okay," Arthur answered with a firm nod.
"No! You can't, Arthur. It's too risky—there has to be another way!" Olivia cried.
"I have to do this, darling," Arthur said gently, placing a reassuring hand on her arm.
"Father, can you help us? Please make sure the spell doesn't go wrong."
Alexandre stood silently. Without a word, he drew his wand.
It was white as snow, carved to resemble bone, and covered in intricate runes.
James's father and Arthur grasped each other's arms as their father stepped forward.
"Écio Clostrum," Alexandre muttered.
A glowing chain appeared around their hands.
"Let's begin, Arthur," the man said with urgency.
"I vow to keep this secret with all that is my body, mind, and soul—to protect that which is my blood," Arthur declared. "By my wand, I make this vow. The one who hides shall not be found. And once set, the vow can never be broken—for if it is, the soul shall perish."
The glowing chains turned translucent, then vanished.
"Thank you, Arthur," the man said quietly.
"Father," he added, turning to Alexandre, "I leave my account with you. The answers will come in due time."
James's parents said their final goodbyes. Luna knelt and kissed James on the forehead.
"May the goddess Hecate be with you," said Lady Arcturus softly.
James's parents vanished into the fire once more.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
It was the middle of the night. Not a single soul could be seen on the cold, rain-drenched streets of 24 Victoria Street in London. The downpour pelted the city as if the heavens themselves were weeping.
"Wake up, James! Wake up, I tell you!" cried Angus, a small and pale-looking boy.
"What do you want? It's the middle of the night. Tell me what you want, Angus," James grumbled.
"Look outside, James. Look! Can you see it?"
James tossed aside his blankets, rubbed his eyes, stretched his arms wide, and yawned.
He was a young lad, just nine years old. Quite handsome for his age, with neatly combed brown hair that resembled polished wood. It often drew attention, since he looked nothing like the rest of his family. But his most unique feature was his eyes—an unusual shade of blue with a silver undertone.
He sat dazed on his bed, listening to Angus ramble, not yet moving.
Angus, looking even paler than usual, stood frozen by the window, staring outside as if he'd seen a ghost.
James finally stood and joined him. When he looked through the window, he too went pale. Fear clutched him. He didn't move from the spot for what felt like an eternity.
When he finally turned away, he ran to Angus, who was trembling.
"What's that, Angus? Do you know what it is?" James asked.
"No! I don't, James. I have no clue! But it looks like one of those Houllers Mother tells us about in her bedtime stories. Let's take a closer look."
Angus pressed his face against the window, squinting through the glass. But the storm outside was getting worse. The rain lashed violently, and thick fog covered everything. It was too misty to make anything out clearly.
Suddenly, a jet of light flashed.
The boys recoiled, stepping back in alarm.
Then—without warning—Angus fell to the ground.
James tried to scream, but no sound came. No words. It felt like he had forgotten how to speak. As if something had stolen his voice, leaving him hollow.
A shadowy figure began approaching the window.
Another flash of light. James blinked.
When he opened his eyes, the shadow stood right in front of him.
It had a humanoid shape.
"Who are you? What… what are you?" James whispered in terror.
The creature was draped in tattered rags, floating mid-air. Its face was shrouded in cloth, and its body cloaked in swirling black smoke as if it were part of the shadows themselves.
It crept toward James.
It had no eyes—but from beneath the cloth, twin orbs of glowing white light pierced through the darkness.
And its breath—
It was the foulest thing James had ever smelled. Like rotting flesh. Like a dead animal left in the summer sun.
The creature reached out its long, claw-like fingers, moving toward James's eyes, as if trying to gouge them out.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
The creature's breath made James feel powerless. His will to fight vanished. He had given up on even trying to escape.
Well… maybe it will leave after taking my eyes, James thought to himself.
The creature slowly extended its hand toward James's face. The closer it got, the more terrified James became—until finally, it touched him.
A wave of cold washed over him. It felt as though he were trapped in a blizzard, stripped of every trace of warmth. The creature's hand gripped his face and tilted it upward.
Its claws inched closer and closer to his eyes.
Just as it was about to gouge them out—
Its hand burst into flames.
The creature shrieked, a high-pitched, haunting cry that echoed through the room. The sound was enough to wake the entire house.
Within moments, the door flew open.
A man burst in, holding a wand. The tip glowed, illuminating the room.
With a pop, the creature vanished into thin air.
James collapsed to the floor.
Almost simultaneously, another figure entered. This time, it was a woman.
As James lay there, drifting into a forced slumber, he heard muffled voices around him.
"Houllers, Arthur! Bloody Houllers! My son—attacked by those creatures!" the woman shouted, her voice shaking with rage. "I want that boy out of this house! He's going to get my child killed!"
Her fury was so intense that the glasses in the room began to crack and shatter from the force of her words.
"What do you want me to do then, Olivia?" Arthur replied. "He's just a boy. I promised my brother I'd take care of him until he's old enough—and you know that promise cannot be broken."
"Your brother is a traitor, and you know it!" Olivia snapped. "No wonder James keeps getting attacked. And what promise? He'll be turning ten on the twenty-fourth. You must make sure he goes! If only not for—"
Arthur moved quickly, covering her mouth before she could say more.
"Olivia, control yourself. I forbid you to talk about that. The walls have ears," he said in a hushed but stern tone. "Let's drop this conversation. The important thing is that no one was hurt."
Olivia frowned, said nothing more, and stormed back to bed.
That night, Arthur sat in a chair beside the boys and kept watch as they slept.
By morning, the sky had softened, and golden light poured into the room.
"Boy, you're awake now. Gave us quite the scare last night," said Arthur, a man in his mid-thirties.
He had a distinct face, clear blue eyes, and a kind demeanour—even with the scar above his brow. The mark, which looked like it had been caused by fire, was shaped oddly like a trident. His athletic build hinted at a man used to action.
James was the first to rise. He walked straight to Arthur.
"Uncle... why is it that bad things always happen to me?" he asked, his eyes brimming with tears.
Arthur gently placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Listen to me very carefully, James. The one thing that is equally granted to everyone... is an unfair reality. Bad things happen to good people. But that shouldn't discourage you," he said with a quiet, firm tone.
"Because even in the eye of the storm... There is calm." Said Arthur, patting James on his shoulder.
____________________________________________________________________________________
"Here he goes again, not making any sense. Always acting all wise and mysterious like Grandpa. He fancies himself a great sage," said Angus with a grin.
He had regained most of his complexion—if he had any to begin with.
James and Angus both burst into laughter. The terror they had experienced seemed to be melting away.
"But this situation is very odd," Arthur said, his tone turning serious. "How did it manage to get inside? Strange... I reckon the barriers failed—but that's impossible. We renewed the runes not too long ago. I wonder how the Houller managed to sneak inside."
"The only way they could have gotten in," said a voice from a nearby portrait, "is if someone allowed them."
Arthur paused.
"But that's even more absurd..." he muttered.
"Lucy! Come here," Arthur called out.
There was a sharp pop.
"You called, Master?" replied a low, shrill voice.
It was Lucy—the house elf. She was a very unpleasant-looking creature: short, with long ears and a crooked nose that ended in a large, swollen pimple. Her robe was pink, ragged, and tattered with age.
"But who?" Arthur said, his voice rising. "No one would intentionally let such an evil being into this house! They'd have no reason to!"
"Sir, if I may be so bold…" Lucy began, glancing at James, "some people don't like James because he is—"
BANG!
There was a loud noise. Lucy immediately fell silent, as though she'd said something forbidden. She looked frightened.
Arthur narrowed his eyes. She was hiding something—and he knew it.
Just as he was about to press her further, someone entered the room.
It was Olivia.
She stood tall and poised, with flaming red hair and deep brown eyes. Her jawline was so flawless it looked sculpted, as if she were a character painted in oils. Her bony hand rested with confidence on her hip, and her expression was aimed sharply at Lucy.
"What are you talking about, Arthur?" Olivia asked coolly.
"Nothing," Arthur replied quickly. "Just asking the boys about the attack last night."
He glanced toward the fireplace, frowning.
"I feel something's wrong. How on earth did that Houller manage to get in here, past all the wards and protection spells… unless someone willingly let it in?"
"Ooh, darling. Quite the mystery, isn't it?" Olivia replied with a strained smile. "Anyway, it's time for breakfast."
She turned toward the hallway.
"Everyone's already in the dining room. And Arthur—your father wants to speak with you. It's about sending James to Doddington."
Without another word, Olivia left the room.
Arthur hesitated for a moment, then followed.
Now, only the two boys and Lucy remained.
"Young masters, I shall go and draw a bath for you," said Lucy.
With a snap of her fingers, she vanished.
Yes—strange things were happening in this house indeed. And somehow, everything seemed to link back to James.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
His family—the Arcturus—was a lineage of noble witches and wizards. Purebloods, and proud of it.
They would boast to anyone who asked about their long history of famous warlocks and enchantresses. Their ancestors, they claimed, once dueled and bested Merlin himself—one of the most brilliant wizards of all time.
James and Angus got up, cleaned themselves, and made their way downstairs through the spiraling staircase.
The walls were lined with portraits and paintings, each unique in its own right—and rather noisy, too.
One of the most eye-catching portraits showed an elderly man riding a black-scaled dragon, his wand raised high in the air. The most peculiar thing about it wasn't that it moved—every portrait in the castle was enchanted—but that this wizard kept changing forms. He would shift into an old man, then a young boy, then a middle-aged man, and finally back into the old wizard again.
Another portrait—a young woman—waved at James as he passed.
The two boys continued down to the dining hall.
At the center of the room was a long oak table. Seated around it were various members of the household.
Jasmine, the eldest daughter of Arthur and Olivia, sat already dressed for the day. Her well-groomed black hair framed her face elegantly. She wore a black dress and glasses, and bore a striking resemblance to her mother—especially in the eyes.
She was talking to her twin brother, Drake, who had also inherited his mother's sharp jawline. But unlike Jasmine, Drake had chosen to magically dye his hair and eyes silver.
"This look is quite attractive to the ladies at work," he would often boast.
At one end of the table sat Arthur.
Opposite him, at the head of the table, was Sir Alexandre Arcturus—the patriarch of the family and Arthur's father. He was a kind-looking man, though the many scars on his hands told stories of a life hard-lived.
James walked over and sat beside Drake, who appeared unusually excited to see him.
"Good morning," James said, addressing everyone politely.
"Is it a good morning?" Olivia muttered coldly.
"Now, now," Alexandre said, casting her a glance. "That's no way to speak to James."
Olivia went silent, and everyone continued eating in tense quiet.
After a while, Alexandre set down his fork and turned to James.
"James, you'll be turning ten the day after tomorrow. It's time you follow Jasmine and Drake's example and go to school," he said warmly. "I just received your school list by owl mail."
He paused to sip his tea.
"After you finish eating, follow me to the study. We'll take a look at it. That old fox better not try any of his usual tricks—tries to recruit me every time," Alexandre added with a hearty laugh.
James nodded eagerly, quickly stuffing food into his mouth. As soon as he was done, he followed his grandfather to the study.
There, Alexandre sat waiting in a wooden rocking chair, gently swaying with a letter in hand.
"James, how much you've grown. I remember it like it was yesterday—when your parents brought you here," said Alexandre with a fond smile. "Well, enough about that. Tomorrow, I'll be taking you to Goodrich Arly to buy your uniform and schoolbooks."
James's face lit up with excitement as he listened to his grandfather speak.
"And according to this letter, classes will be starting next week."
That night, James didn't sleep a wink. He was far too excited—and a little nervous. His mind buzzed with thoughts of the new magic he'd get to learn.
He had a brilliant mind. Even without a wand, he had already begun to practice magic. The house staff would often whisper about it.
"It's the blood running in his veins," the servants would gossip, awestruck.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Morning came quickly.
James woke up early and left his room. As he descended the spiraling staircase, he heard voices coming from behind one of the walls.
One of the voices was deep and harsh—masculine and unfamiliar. It was speaking with Olivia, and the two of them seemed to be arguing.
James's curiosity got the better of him. He crept closer and pressed his ear against the wall to eavesdrop.
He heard his name.
"…let me check his memories. I'm sure he's seen where they put it," growled the husky voice.
James strained to listen harder—but was suddenly interrupted by one of the enchanted portraits.
"What are you doing there, boy?" asked a stern man from the frame.
"You know," he added, "listening in on other people is not very nice."
James tried to ignore him, waving him off.
But the portrait wouldn't stop. The more James shushed him, the louder the painted man became—until James was finally forced to give up his eavesdropping.
Annoyed and still curious, James walked into the kitchen, grabbed a piece of toast, and went to find his grandfather—still wondering what Olivia and the stranger had been talking about.
"Alright then, James. We'll be using the Gate," said Alexandre as he stood.
They left the room and returned to the kitchen. On one side stood a small black gate, awkwardly wedged into the stone wall. It looked completely out of place.
Alexandre stepped toward it and began scribbling something across its surface with the tip of his wand.
Suddenly, the black metal glowed bright blue.
He stepped back, turned to James, and smiled.
"Then in we go," said Alexandre. "Remember, James—it's Goodrich Arly."
He opened the gate, and the two of them stepped inside.
They entered a small, dimly lit chamber behind the gate. The gate closed behind them with a loud clang.
Without warning, the floor beneath them dropped.
James's stomach lurched. He felt as though he were being compressed and pulled at the same time. His face turned pale—he nearly lost his breakfast.
After a few chaotic seconds, they hit the ground with a thud.
Another gate stood in front of them. Alexandre opened it, and when they stepped through, they found themselves in the heart of a bustling street market.
"Well, first order of business—let's go get some money from my storage at Gringos," said Alexandre, cracking his knuckles. "Damn, I hate seeing those bloody goblins. You know, I fought quite a few of them back in the day when I was in the Association. Those were the dark ages, I dare say."
They made their way toward Gringos Bank—a marvel of architecture.
The building was tall and majestic, its exterior adorned with shimmering pearls and crystal inlays. Inside, it was even more impressive. The ceiling was covered in gold, reflecting warm light across the marble floor. At the center of the grand hall stood a massive statue of a goblin holding a pair of scales. Along both sides of the room, goblins sat at high desks, counting coins and scribbling into thick ledgers.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
James and his grandfather approached the reception desk.
Behind the counter stood a goblin—short and slender, with pale green skin, a long pointy nose, and even longer ears. He wore a flamboyant purple suit with a crisp blue tie.
"We've come to retrieve something from my vault. If you would take us to the stall, that would be much appreciated," said Alexandre politely.
"Name and wand, please," the goblin replied in a strangely high-pitched voice that didn't seem to match his appearance at all.
Alexandre took out his wand and handed it over.
"The name is Alexandre Arcturus."
The goblin placed the wand in a glass container, where it glowed briefly.
"Right this way," he said, hopping off his stool and leading them down a long corridor.
They arrived at a massive security stall—sealed by two enormous gates.
"Password, please," the goblin requested.
Alexandre stepped forward, placed his hand on the gate, and muttered, "Moon Knight."
The doors swung open with a low, heavy groan.
Inside was the private vault chamber.
Another grand golden door blocked the vault itself, protected by goblin magic. The goblin accompanying them placed his hand on the door. It glowed green, followed by a loud clunk, and then slowly creaked open.
Within the room were perfectly organized piles of gold, silver, and bronze coins stacked in precise rows. In the center of the vault sat a small stone table with a sealed box on top.
Alexandre walked directly to the box, rested his hand on it, and whispered an incantation under his breath. The box clicked open. He looked through it silently for a moment before closing it again—without taking anything from inside.
Instead, he walked to the coin stacks, scooped up a small pouch of gold, picked up the box, and turned toward James.
"It's time to buy you a new wand and your school supplies," he said. "We'll be quite busy—try to keep up."
They left the bank and spent the rest of the day moving from shop to shop.
They purchased everything James would need for the coming school year—books, quills, parchment, potion ingredients, robes, and more.
Finally, they arrived at the last and most anticipated stop: the wand shop.
James could barely contain his excitement. Some spells simply wouldn't work without a wand, and today, he would finally receive his own.
"There's the shop where we'll buy your wand, James," said Alexandre proudly, pointing across the street.
But in contrast to his confident tone, the building he pointed to looked… well, shabby.
The paint on the exterior was faded, cracked, and peeling. The name of the shop, once proudly displayed on a wooden sign, was now barely legible. The shop sat awkwardly between two grand, luxurious storefronts, making it look even more out of place.
"Grandfather… are you sure this is the right shop?" James asked, puzzled.
"Just wait until you see the inside," Alexandre replied with a knowing smile.
They stepped inside—and James's jaw dropped.
The interior was completely different from the outside. The flooring was a gleaming bright red wood, polished to a shine. The counter was made from the same rich timber, and above it hung a grand chandelier made of gold and silver, with glowing crystals floating around it in an elegant orbit.
Behind the counter stood a man packing boxes.
"Charles, old fellow! We've come to buy a wand," Alexandre called out, tapping a small bell on the countertop.
Ding!
"This is Charles," he explained to James. "Owner of the shop. Been running this place for forty years. Very successful family business, this is."
James stared in surprise.
Charles looked nothing like what he'd expected. He had smooth brown skin, a well-built physique, and shoulder-length blue and black hair tied neatly into a ponytail. He looked like he was in his early twenties—not a day over thirty at most.
Forty years in business? James thought. No way.
Charles paused his packing and walked over, grinning.
You could tell they were old friends from the way they embraced—though to James, it was quite an odd sight.
"This your grandson?" Charles asked, his voice deep and effortlessly cool.
Before Alexandre could answer, Charles was already busy, bending down to pick up a stack of wand boxes. He placed a few on the counter, opening the top one.
Inside lay a wand.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
He lifted it, examined it briefly, and handed it to James.
"Give it a little nudge, would you, James?" said Charles with a smirk.
James took the wand and gave it a cautious flick.
A sudden gust of wind exploded from its tip, pushing James two steps back.
"Well," Charles said, taking the wand back and placing it carefully in its box, "looks like that one doesn't approve of you as its master."
He continued handing James one wand after another, but none seemed to respond well. Either they fizzled, sparked, shuddered—or did nothing at all.
"This one's not it either," Charles said, returning another wand to its box.
This went on for nearly a quarter of an hour.
Then… James heard something.
A voice.
Soft, ancient, and echoing.
"The Heir has been chosen."
James's eyes widened. He looked around, but neither Alexandre nor Charles reacted.
They hadn't heard it.
Did that voice come from one of the wands? James wondered, bewildered.
"Once more, James," Charles said, handing him another wand.
James slowly reached out, feeling a strange warmth the moment his fingers touched the handle.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
The wand was made from smooth grey wood, with two small lumps protruding from the sides. Rune inscriptions were etched down its center, glowing faintly under the shop's light.
James waved the wand gently through the air.
Suddenly, he felt a warm sensation swirl in his stomach. A memory surfaced—a charm he had read in a book.
"Ela levare," he muttered, pointing the wand at a wooden chair near the door.
The chair shuddered… then floated.
Higher and higher it rose, until it nearly touched the ceiling.
James was mesmerized. He grinned in awe—but quickly lost control. The chair tumbled from midair, crashing downward.
Before it could smash into the floor, Charles drew his wand in a flash and caught it mid-descent with a quick flick and a levitation charm not unlike James's own.
"Well now," Charles said, lowering the chair gently. "It seems to me you've got your wand, boy."
He examined the wand carefully.
"Beautiful willow for the body. Dragon whisker for the core. Length: eighteen point ten inches," Charles murmured, tracing the runes with his thumb. "But what's quite peculiar… is that I've never seen this wand in my shop before."
With the wand purchased, they had everything they needed.
They returned home just as the sky began to turn golden.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
The next morning, James woke early.
It was his birthday.
He came down to an extravagant breakfast, with streamers floating through the kitchen and sweet-smelling pastries stacked high on silver trays. One by one, everyone greeted him with warm birthday wishes.
Even Olivia gave him a present—which stunned him. She never gave him anything.
Arthur and Alexandre also handed him neatly wrapped gifts.
The first package James opened was from Arthur. Inside was a stack of Cadle Cards—collectible cards from past World Cups. James loved watching Cadle, and his eyes sparkled with joy.
Next, Olivia handed him a slim envelope.
Inside were a few bronze coins and a silver pendant. James blinked in surprise. Was this a peace offering?
Lastly, James opened his grandfather's gift.
It was the box Alexandre had retrieved from the vault at Gringos.
Inside, neatly arranged, were:
A picture of James's parents—smiling and alive.
A folded parchment with no visible writing.
A brass eyepiece.
And a heart-shaped pendant—delicate and clearly feminine. It must have belonged to his mother.
"These belonged to your father," said Alexandre gently. "He wanted you to have them before you go to school. You'll find them… very eye-opening."
He winked at James.
James clutched the items tightly. This was the best gift he could have asked for. Though Arthur had never mistreated him, he still longed for his parents—people he had never truly known.
What he would give… just to see them once.
The days sped by, and the nights passed even faster.
Soon, the day of departure arrived.
The skies were grey, the fog thick and heavy outside. The world looked cloaked in mist.
James had packed everything into his trunk and was now waiting quietly downstairs in the dining room.
"It's time to go to the port. The ship leaves at twelve noon sharp," said Alexandre, urging the children forward. "And once it's gone—it's not coming back."
Jasmine and Drake were already downstairs, ready to return to work.
At the gate, Angus gave James one last hug.
"See you during the holidays," he whispered, his eyes watery.
One by one, they stepped through the magical gate.
They emerged at the port.
The air was filled with noise—parents calling out last-minute advice, children shouting, laughter, tears, and goodbyes overlapping in a joyful chaos.
"Make haste and board the ship!" Alexandre ordered.
James turned—and gasped.
The ship was enormous. Its black sails rippled dramatically in the wind, and on its prow was a detailed carving of a mermaid… that moved. Her hair flowed, her eyes blinked, and her carved lips curled into a faint smile.
The children handed their luggage to the porters, shared final hugs, and stepped aboard.
James's family waved from the dock. Even Arthur, usually composed, wiped away a single tear as James disappeared onto the ship.
Inside, the ship felt even bigger than it had looked from the outside.
Cabins lined the hallway, numbers neatly engraved on each polished door.
James found Cabin 105 and stepped inside.
It was surprisingly spacious. Padded benches lined the walls, enchanted windows showed a magical view of the ocean, and there was a warm, welcoming glow to the room.
Inside were three other students, already seated.
James sat down quietly.
The rule was simple: First-years with first-years. Why? No one really knew—but it was tradition.
"Hello! My name is Aurora Wilde—what's yours?" chirped the girl next to him, smiling wide.
She was bursting with energy, already asking another question before James could even respond.
Aurora had curly brown hair and wore round glasses that made her green eyes appear comically large. She leaned forward with curiosity, barely sitting still.
James introduced himself, then looked around the cabin at the others.
A boy in the corner raised a hand.
"I'm Fredric Paddlewood. But my friends call me Fred—well, that's what my brothers call me, anyway," he said with a friendly grin.
Fred had brown hair and green eyes, much like Aurora. The resemblance was clear—they were cousins.
Finally, the last student in the room spoke.
"I'm Annie Dawald," she said confidently.
She had beautiful, natural black hair styled into two buns, and her glowing brown skin shimmered every time the sunlight broke through the window and danced across the cabin.
Outside, the ship rocked gently at the dock.
Then—suddenly—it lurched forward with a powerful jolt.
The smooth rocking stopped. The ship began to move—fast.
Waves slammed against the hull, the sails filled with enchanted wind, and soon, all that could be heard was the roaring of the ocean.
The journey had begun.
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"If we keep moving at this speed, I reckon we'll reach the school by nightfall," said Annie bluntly, glancing out the window.
"How is that even possible?" James replied, frowning. "We're sailing from Aberdeen to Skye. That trip takes at least two days—without storms."
He spoke with confidence—he had read it in a book.
Fred leaned in, whispering to James, "A complete nutter, this one."
The two of them chuckled under their breath.
"Well, for your information, Fredric," Annie snapped, spinning toward them with a smirk, "this ship is enchanted. The spell is called the Maneguin Charm—performed by the principal of the school herself."
"I think she heard you," James whispered with a grin.
The rest of the journey went by smoothly.
It was James's first time on a ship, and honestly—it wasn't as bad as he had expected.
Not bad so far, at least.