After the Sorting Ceremony, they ushered us back into the castle's massive foyer. The energy in the room was electric—students chatting excitedly, prefects shouting instructions, and the general chaos of so many people trying to find their place.
"First-years! Form up by house!" shouted a tall Greymor prefect, holding up a silver-and-blue banner to gather us.
I followed the other Greymor students toward the stairs, but my gaze lingered on Jaime. She was standing with the Dreadmoore group, looking slightly out of place. Her arms were crossed, and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other like she wasn't sure what to do with herself.
That was when I noticed one of the Miller boys watching her. His stare wasn't casual—it was sharp and calculating, like he was trying to figure something out.
Before I could think too much about it, the other Miller boy leaned over and smacked him on the back of the head. The first flinched, shooting him a glare as he rubbed the spot where he'd been hit. Jaime glanced in their direction, and when she caught sight of the slap, she giggled quietly before quickly looking away.
The Miller boy who'd been watching her grinned at her reaction, his expression smug. The one who'd delivered the smack rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed, while their friend—a tall boy with dark hair—laughed softly at the exchange.
All three of them turned and headed down the stairs leading to the dungeons. House Umbryss was belowground, and the group's departure marked the shift in the energy of the room.
"Who are you staring at?" George's voice broke into my thoughts as he appeared at my side.
"Jaime," I said simply.
He raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
I shrugged, avoiding the question. Instead, I nodded toward the group she was standing with. "Where's Dreadmoore's common room?"
George followed my gaze. "Oh, it's on this floor. Entrance is right next to the kitchen."
"Why near the kitchen?"
He grinned, leaning in as though he was letting me in on a secret. "Sprites live there, remember? Dreadmoores help them with cooking and stuff sometimes, so it's easier to be close by."
I glanced back at Jaime, who was now following her prefect toward the back of the foyer where the Dreadmoore students were being led. As she walked, I couldn't help but notice the way she kept her head down, blending into the group like she didn't want to stand out.
"Come on, Evan," George said, nudging me. "We've got our own common room to get to."
Reluctantly, I turned away and followed the other Greymor first-years as we climbed the grand staircase. The stairs shifted underfoot, grinding like clockwork as they moved, and I grabbed the railing tightly to keep my balance.
"Careful on the stairs!" someone shouted from above.
The warning came just in time for a group of first-years who had almost stumbled. I tightened my grip on the railing, muttering under my breath about whoever thought moving stairs was a good idea.
"Don't worry," George said from beside me, sounding entirely too cheerful. "They're just testing your balance. Greymor loves to weed out the uncoordinated."
I rolled my eyes, but his grin was infectious.
When we finally reached the landing, I spotted Ophelia up ahead. Her vibrant red hair stood out even in the dim torchlight of the hallway. She was walking quickly, her head turning from side to side as she tried to take in everything at once.
"This way!" our prefect called, leading us into a wide corridor decorated in Greymor's house colors: deep blue and silver. Tapestries depicting the house crest—a crescent moon cradling a stag's head—lined the walls, shimmering faintly as we passed.
We stopped in front of a grand door engraved with intricate silver patterns. The prefect turned to face us, his expression proud.
"Welcome to Greymor," he said. "This is your home now. The password this week is Astralis. Don't forget it—you'll need it to get inside."
He pressed his hand against the door, and it swung open to reveal the common room beyond.
The space was breathtaking. A massive fireplace dominated one wall, its flames crackling and casting a warm glow over the room. Comfortable armchairs and sofas were arranged in clusters, inviting students to sit and chat. Bookshelves lined the walls, packed with everything from dusty tomes to brightly bound novels. Above us, the ceiling shimmered like the night sky, constellations winking down as though they were alive.
"This is amazing," I said, unable to hide my awe.
George nodded, his eyes wide as he took in the space. "Yeah, it's... wow." He glanced around like he didn't know where to start. "Okay, I didn't think it'd be this nice. I thought we'd be stuck in some creepy dungeon or something."
As the other first-years began exploring, I lingered near the entrance, my mind still on Jaime.
I didn't understand why it bothered me so much that she wasn't in Greymor. I barely knew her. Still, the way one of the Miller boys had watched her, the dynamic between them, the look she gave when she giggled—it all nagged at me.
"Hey," George said, nudging me out of my thoughts. "She's fine, you know. Dreadmoore's not that bad."
I nodded, though his reassurance didn't do much to ease the knot of unease in my chest.
Jaime
I felt eyes on me coming from the side. My skin prickled under the weight of someone's gaze, and when I turned my head, I caught one of the Miller boys staring at me. His intense look lingered longer than necessary, and I felt a flush rise to my cheeks, the heat of embarrassment making me wish I could disappear. Just as the discomfort began to mount, another boy—probably one of his brothers—smacked him on the back of the head.
The unexpected slap made me freeze for a second before a small giggle escaped my lips. It felt strange to laugh, almost foreign. I couldn't remember the last time something had amused me enough to elicit that sound. Maybe it was how exaggerated the slap had been or the way the boy rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish smile. Either way, I allowed myself that brief moment of levity.
Of course, it wasn't lost on me why he might've been staring. My makeup—caked in certain areas—was hard to miss. Even under the dim lighting, I was sure it stood out. I knew it wasn't perfect; it never was when I was in a rush to cover the worst of it. Still, the boy's embarrassment at being caught was satisfying, and the small laugh left me feeling lighter than I had all day.
Shaking my head, I turned back to the group as we moved toward our house's entrance. The smell of something warm and inviting wafted through the air. It reminded me of freshly baked bread or cookies cooling on a rack, the kind of smells that used to fill my kitchen back home. My stomach rumbled slightly, and I quickened my pace to catch up with Lily, the girl I'd been paired with after the sorting.
"Lily, where are we going?" I asked, my curiosity piqued by the delicious aroma.
Lily, a petite girl with bouncy dark curls, beamed at me like she'd been waiting for this question. "Right next to the kitchen!" she said enthusiastically. "We're super lucky because we sometimes get extra goodies from the sprites when we help out with making food. You're going to love it."
Her words immediately brought a smile to my face. I loved cooking—well, I used to before life got... complicated. The thought of being able to help in the kitchen, of creating something with my hands again, filled me with an odd sense of comfort. And snacks as a reward? That was just the cherry on top.
As we approached the entrance to the Dreadmoore common room, my awe only grew. The heavy wooden door swung open, revealing a space that radiated warmth and comfort. The walls seemed to shimmer faintly, reflecting the glow of the magical sconces mounted at intervals. A massive glass wall at the far end of the room let in streams of sunlight, painting the floor in golden hues. Beyond the glass, a beautifully kept garden was visible, filled with flowers in vibrant colors and a small fountain bubbling in the center.
"Wow," I murmured, unable to keep the amazement out of my voice.
Lily grinned beside me, clearly pleased by my reaction. "Wait until you see the dorms!" she said, her voice brimming with excitement. "They have enchanted windows that can show any scenery you want. I always set mine to show the Greek beaches. The way the ocean sparkles in the sunlight is so beautiful, it makes you feel like you're actually there."
Her excitement was contagious, and I couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation. A window that could show any scenery I wanted? The possibilities were endless. I thought of sunsets over rolling hills, the peaceful serenity of a dense forest, or even a starry night sky.
I opened my mouth to ask Lily something, a question forming on my tongue. "Oh, um, Lily, where would I—"
"Jaime!" a voice called out sharply, cutting me off mid-sentence. I turned toward the source and saw a tall, stern-looking woman standing by the fireplace. Her dark robes gave her an imposing presence, and her sharp eyes landed on me with precision.
"That's me. Hi," I said, hurrying over to her, my heart thudding in my chest.
The woman regarded me briefly before speaking. "You've been assigned to a private room. Follow this corridor to the end, and you'll find a door marked Clarendence. That's your room. You'll need to set a password to activate the lock. Choose something memorable but secure. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," I replied quickly, the information making my head spin slightly.
"Good. Off you go," she said briskly, dismissing me with a wave.
I nodded and turned toward the corridor, feeling the weight of her gaze on my back as I walked away. The hallway was quieter than the bustling common room, and I felt a sense of calm wash over me as I approached the door marked Clarendence.
The brass plaque gleamed faintly under the magical sconces, and my heart skipped slightly as I reached for the doorknob. My palm brushed against the cool metal, and I hesitated, my mind racing with possibilities. Finally, I whispered the first word that came to mind. "Solace."
The doorknob warmed beneath my hand, and the door swung open with a soft click. I stepped inside and let out a small gasp.
The room was cozy and inviting, with a large four-poster bed draped in deep green and silver linens—the Dreadmoore house colors. The walls were painted in soft, neutral tones, and a plush rug covered the hardwood floor. A small desk sat in the corner, complete with a magical lamp that glowed warmly, and a wardrobe stood against the opposite wall.
But the real centerpiece was the window. It spanned almost the entire length of the far wall, and as I approached, it shifted to show a breathtaking view of rolling hills bathed in the golden light of a setting sun.
I sank onto the edge of the bed, letting out a long breath. For the first time in a long while, I felt... safe. Maybe this place wouldn't be so bad after all.
Evan
Going into my room, which I was sharing with George, we were greeted by an incredible sight—a massive window spanning nearly the entire length of one wall. It wasn't just any window, though. The scenery shifted seamlessly from one breathtaking view to another. First, a snow-covered mountain range with icy peaks glittered under a pale blue sky. Then, it transitioned into a misty forest where sunlight filtered through the thick canopy of leaves.
I stopped in my tracks, unable to look away. "Wow," I finally whispered.
Beside me, George seemed just as mesmerized, his expression frozen in awe. "I've heard about these windows," he said after a moment, his voice hushed with wonder. "You can change the scenery to whatever you want. My brothers said sometimes, if roommates can't agree, the window splits to show two different views. But I thought they were making it up."
We both stood there, watching as the scenery changed again. This time, it was a fiery sunset over rolling hills, the sky painted with shades of orange, pink, and purple. It felt almost magical, like the room itself was alive.
Before I could comment, the door flew open with a loud bang, making both George and me jump. A boy with messy brown hair and a wide grin barreled in, dragging a trunk that looked far too heavy for him.
"Hi!" he announced, his voice loud and full of energy. "Name's William, but everyone calls me Bill." His gaze landed on George, and his grin somehow grew wider. "Oh, George! It's you! I thought I'd be rooming with someone I didn't know, but this is so much better!"
George blinked, caught between a smile and a grimace. "Hi, Bill," he said cautiously.
Bill didn't seem to notice George's hesitation. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you. I mean, I was worried I'd get stuck with someone boring. But this? This is perfect!" He dumped his trunk in the middle of the room and turned to me.
"You must be Evan," he said, looking me up and down with the same relentless energy.
I nodded. "That's me."
"Nice to meet you!" Bill said enthusiastically. He gestured toward the window, which now showed a serene beach with turquoise water. "Can you believe this thing? It's amazing! I called dibs on trying it out first, though."
George sighed. "You can't just call dibs, Bill. It's not how it works."
While they bickered, I took a moment to explore the room. It was spacious and well-organized, with three identical canopy beds set against the walls. Each bed was covered in simple white linens and a floating canopy that seemed to shimmer faintly, like it was enchanted. A wardrobe stood beside each bed, along with a small desk and a trunk.
Bill eventually claimed the middle bed, flopping onto it with a dramatic sigh. "This is going to be great," he said, looking up at the canopy above him.
George and I ignored him as we chose our own beds. I placed my things on the one closest to the wall, and as soon as I did, the bedding began to shift. Deep blue and black colors spread across the linens like paint seeping into fabric—the colors of Greymor.
"That's pretty cool," I muttered, running a hand over the smooth material.
Bill sat up, watching with interest. "Oh yeah, the beds change to match your house colors. Didn't your brothers tell you that, George?"
George ignored the question and dropped his bag onto the bed farthest from mine. Like mine, his bedding changed to Greymor blue and black.
"So," Bill began, looking at both of us with a mischievous grin, "who wants to figure out the window first?"