Ilvermorny: Where Memory Sleeps

Ilvermorny bustled with new energy as the second week of classes began. Aevelle walked beside Ruby and Serene through the wide, lantern-lit corridor that led from the dining hall to the classrooms. The stained-glass windows threw colored light across their robes, and their voices were soft among the shuffle of dozens of others.

"Let me see it," Serene said, holding out her hand.

Aevelle pulled a neatly folded schedule from her satchel and passed it over. Ruby leaned in to look too.

Ilvermorny - First-Year Student Timetable
Name: Aevelle Yvaughn Nourin
House: Thunderbird
Autumn Term Schedule

Monday:
Charms & Incantations I
Potions & Elixirs I
Transfiguration I

Tuesday:
Defense Against the Dark Arts I
Astral Studies I
Magical Creatures & Beasts I

Wednesday:
Magical History: North America
Free Study
Flight Lesson

Thursday:
Herbology I
Charms & Incantations I
Potions & Elixirs I

Friday:
Herbology I
Transfiguration I
Defense Against the Dark Arts I

Saturday:
Magical Creatures Field Studies
Language of the Old Tongue
Astronomy (Night Class)

Sunday: Rest/Free Day

"Language of the Old Tongue?" Ruby raised an eyebrow. "That one's not even on mine."

Aevelle shrugged, her gaze distant. "They added it after first week. Said I qualified... probably because of the dreams."

Serene nodded, suddenly serious. "That's not normal, Aevelle. Most people never get that class unless they've had vision experiences."

"Or if something's chosen them," Ruby added, only half-joking.

They walked in silence a few steps, the hum of other students around them fading for a moment.

Aevelle folded the schedule and tucked it back into her robe. "Either way, I'm not dropping it. If this is connected to what's happening with magic, I want to understand it."

Serene bumped her shoulder gently. "Just make sure you don't turn into a magical scholar before we even learn our first dueling spell."

Aevelle smirked. "Too late."

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Back in the common corridor between classes, the three girls reached a branching hallway where Horned Serpent and Thunderbird students typically parted ways.

"We'll meet after Potions?" Ruby asked, tightening the strap of her book-laden satchel.

"Library," Aevelle confirmed. "Near the east hearth."

As Serene and Ruby veered off toward their rune lecture, Aevelle turned toward her next class-Potions-where she spotted a familiar figure near the house bulletin board.

Cassandra Virell, one of Aevelle's roommates in Thunderbird, stood perfectly poised with her back straight and her quill scribbling quick, precise notes into a floating planner that glowed faintly with magical ink. Tall and sharp-eyed. She was fiercely loyal to those she trusted, though she rarely offered that trust easily. And when it came to academics, she didn't just excel-she devoured.

"Still organizing your entire academic future?" Aevelle teased, sliding up beside her.

Cassandra smirked. "Only through next semester. And the summer internship possibilities."

Aevelle laughed, easing her bag off her shoulder.

"I saw your class list," Cassandra said. "Old Tongue? That's... not standard."

"I know." Aevelle hesitated, then added, "It's tied to the dreams I've been having."

At that, Cassandra lowered her quill. "The dreams again? You really should keep a chart-date, time, symbols, feelings. That sort of thing."

"I do. Every Sunday."

Cassandra gave a small nod of approval. "Well, if any of it includes strange script or glyphs, let me see. I've been studying third-tier symbolweaving-some patterns act like dormant spells. They only trigger when something specific awakens them."

"Like a keyword?" Aevelle asked.

"Or a person." Cassandra glanced around, then added in a whisper, "Or a prophecy."

Aevelle's pulse quickened. "Do you think it's connected to the magic fading?"

"I think it's more than that. I've been checking the spellbooks in the restricted archives. Some foundational spells-ones that haven't changed in centuries-are written in something I can't translate. It's like a root language buried under our own."

Aevelle felt a chill dance along her spine. "The Old Tongue."

Cassandra nodded once. "If something ancient is waking up, or breaking down, the patterns will show it. Maybe not to everyone-but we'll find them."

Together, they stepped into the Potions Hall just as the doors swung open with a soft creak. Though the lessons seemed ordinary, Aevelle couldn't shake the feeling that they pointed to something greater-like scattered pieces of a puzzle waiting to be solved.

Clues hidden in routine, pointing toward something vast beneath the surface of Ilvermorny.

Something that dreamed.