Ilvermorny: Where Memory Sleeps

The second week at Ilvermorny settled into a rhythm, but magic was still a dance Aevelle hadn’t quite learned the steps to. Dreams still disturbed her sleep—soft whispers, flickering light, a mirror she could never quite touch.

Despite that, she began to find moments of stillness. A few familiar faces in the corridors nodded now. Cassandra, her quiet but sharp-witted roommate, turned out to be fiercely organized and already in friendly competition with upper-years for academic points.

Aevelle noticed how Serene and Ruby would sometimes glance around when students from other houses passed, hoping to spot her between classes. Even with separate house dorms, their friendship remained intact, if stretched thin.

It was Thursday when Serene experienced her own unexpected turn.

That afternoon’s Magical Herbology lesson brought the Horned Serpent first-years to the greenhouse complex, a sun-warmed labyrinth of iron-framed glass and ivy-choked rafters. Golden pollen drifted like tiny lights through the humid air, and the scent of damp earth mixed with whispering leaves.

Professor Windmere stood before the class with her sleeves rolled and an earthy smudge across one cheek.

“Today,” she said, “we’re working with Tremblanth Root. Sensitive, fragile, and prone to defensive withdrawal. Think of it as a magical barometer for your emotional state.”

Serene’s pot of soil gave a faint rustle. A pale tendril peeked through the dirt, then shrank again, twitching like a frightened animal. She frowned, trying to coax it out with gentler hands, but the root curled away each time.

Professor Windmere clapped once. “Time to pair up. This plant requires balance.”

Serene tensed. Most students had already clustered up. She was about to speak up when someone dropped to a crouch beside her.

“You mind?” said a steady voice.

Serene looked over—and locked eyes with a girl she hadn’t seen before. Dark hair in a braid, calm and unreadable expression, with a Thunderbird crest on her robes.

“I’m Cassandra,” she added, slipping on dragonhide gloves.

Serene hesitated. “Go ahead. Not having much luck with it anyway.”

Cassandra didn’t comment. Instead, she rolled up her sleeves, studied the root’s behavior, and gently tapped the side of the pot.

“Try humming,” she said quietly. “It likes tone.”

Serene narrowed her eyes. “You’re making that up.”

Cassandra gave a half-smile—brief, but real. “Only a little. But it might work.”

They both watched as the root slowly unfolded, inch by inch, leaning toward Serene’s hand.

For the first time all day, it responded.

“Whoa,” Serene murmured.

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Cassandra said. “You’re just… focused too sharply. Sometimes magic listens better when you’re not trying so hard.”

Serene glanced at her, uncertain how to respond. Cassandra had already turned her focus back to the plant, murmuring an incantation under her breath.

Later, as they packed up their supplies, Serene said softly, “Thanks.”

Cassandra nodded. “You’ve got strong magic. It’s just layered.”

They walked out together without quite realizing they’d fallen in step.

From a nearby bench, Aevelle and Ruby were flipping through their notes under the shade of a sun tree. When they spotted Serene approaching, her expression unreadable but thoughtful, with Cassandra right beside her, Aevelle raised an eyebrow.

Ruby leaned closer. “Well, that’s a pairing I didn’t expect.”

Aevelle smiled, closing her notebook. “Maybe not. But it makes a strange kind of sense.”

Ruby smirked. “Thunderbird and Horned Serpent. That’ll be interesting.”

Aevelle didn’t reply, but she looked between her best friend and her roommate—and saw something shift. Not magic, exactly. Not yet. But something real.