Ilvermorny: Where Memory Sleeps

That night, the sky had turned a stormy shade of gray as she stepped through the front door, her backpack slung lazily over one shoulder.

School had been the usual dull blur, but something felt strange as soon as she entered the house.

Her father stood by the fireplace, a flicker of flame dancing in his eyes-not from anger, but from the fire itself.

He held a piece of parchment in his hands, and before she could say anything, he tossed it into the blaze.

The flames eagerly swallowed it, curling the paper into ash.

"Hey, what was that?" she asked, her brow furrowed.

"Nothing important," he replied too quickly, brushing his hands together as if to clap away the truth.

"Just junk mail."

She tilted her head, but didn't press him.

He always had a guarded air about certain things, especially things she wasn't supposed to ask about. So she turned and headed upstairs, deciding to wash the school day off her skin and mind.

----

That night, the dream came again. The same woman-tall, pale, with long dark hair like her own-stood in the forest, reaching out with eyes that glowed like the moon. Her voice-barely a whisper.

"He's lying to you... he's keeping you from the truth..."

She tried to run, but her feet were glued to the ground. The woman stepped closer, her touch-cold as it brushed her cheek.

"I'm your mother."

-

---

She gasped awake, heart pounding in her chest. The room was filled with darkness. She glanced at the clock: 2:14 a.m.

Still trembling, she tiptoed downstairs to get a glass of water. But as she passed the fireplace, a corner of parchment caught her eyes. Ashes were scattered across the fireplace... but one scrap had survived the flames.

She knelt down, reaching carefully for it. Her name was written on the envelope-her full name, in swirling ink. Beneath it was a crest she didn't recognize, and a name that made her pulse quicken.

Ilvermorny; School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

To.
Ms. Aevelle Yvaughn Nourin

Her breath caught.

Without a second thought, she took the letter upstairs and sat cross-legged on her bed. The parchment was thick, with a golden trim, and the writing shimmered faintly. Her hands trembled slightly as she opened it.

Inside was a formal invitation, sealed with wax. The words were impossible... and yet they felt real.

They knew things-things about her strange dreams, her odd instincts, the way streetlights flickered when she was upset.

----

The next morning, she sat across from her father at the breakfast table, the unopened letter in front of her like a fragile secret.

"You tried to burn this," she said quietly.

His spoon paused halfway to his mouth. "Where did you-"

"It had my name on it," she said. "Why would you try to hide something like this from me?"

He set the spoon down slowly. "Because I was trying to protect you."

She stared at him. "From what?"

He didn't answer right away. But in his silence, she knew-this was only the beginning.