Ilvermorny: Where Memory Sleeps

The morning light felt thin and cold as Aevelle, Ruby, and Serene emerged from the hidden passage. The castle, still cloaked in dawn's hush, seemed unaware that something ancient stirred beneath its foundations.

None of them spoke until they reached the top of the South Wing stairwell. Ruby rubbed her eyes. "We need to write this down. Everything. Before it starts slipping."

Serene nodded, more serious than usual. "And we need to tell someone. Eventually. Just... not yet."

Aevelle folded the parchment back into her satchel. The symbol had faded again-almost smugly-but that trace of a line still hovered in her thoughts, like a whisper just out of reach.

They parted ways quietly, and Aevelle returned to her common room. Cassandra was already awake, brushing her hair in silence, and simply glanced up with a faint look of curiosity. Aevelle smiled a little but said nothing.

Later that afternoon, Aevelle walked the snowy path between classes when a gust of wind almost stole the parchment from her coat. She clutched it tighter, head down, only looking up when someone stepped in her way.

"Looks like you've had a night," came a calm, amused voice.

She blinked. Standing in front of her was a tall boy with sharp green eyes and neatly combed black hair. He wore the emerald-trimmed robes of Horned Serpent, and a silver pin gleamed at his collar-debate team.

Aevelle recognized him. Soren Vexley.

He was already a known name at Ilvermorny-not just for his unnervingly precise arguments in the Great Hall's open debates, but also as the youngest ever Horned Serpent Quidditch captain. Seeker. Brilliant, cold, a little too clever for his own good. Or so she'd heard.

Soren glanced once toward her satchel, where a faint shimmer of magic might've still lingered.

"You've got that look," he said thoughtfully. "The kind people get right before they stumble into something dangerous."

Aevelle raised a brow. "Do I know you?"

"Not yet. But I have a habit of noticing things others ignore."

His tone was even, but his eyes flicked from her satchel to the faint ink stain on her glove. She felt suddenly like a page being read.

"I've been watching what's been happening," he added, voice lower. "The little failures. Fading spells. Misfiring charms. I'm guessing you've seen more than just rumors."

She hesitated, then said, "Maybe."

A corner of his mouth quirked. "Then we'll talk again."

Without waiting for a reply, Soren turned on his heel and walked away toward the North Tower, his robes catching in the wind. Aevelle stood in the snow, breath caught, uncertain whether to feel wary or... intrigued.

She didn't realize she was holding her breath until the door to the east corridor clattered open behind her.

"There you are!" Ruby called, cheeks red from the cold. "We've been looking all over-Charms starts in ten minutes!"

Serene appeared beside her, squinting. "Who was that?"

"Horned Serpent. Debate guy," Ruby said quickly. "Soren something. Vexwell?"

"Vexley," Aevelle corrected, still staring after him.

Serene nudged her with a curious look. "And what did that charming conversation entail?"

Aevelle tugged her satchel tighter. "He knows something. Or suspects it. He mentioned the magic fading."

Ruby's expression shifted. "Do you think he's involved?"

"I don't know," Aevelle admitted, finally turning to follow them. "But I don't think we should ignore him either."

They filed into the crowded corridor as students poured out of the Great Hall toward class. The whisper of parchment against fabric reminded Aevelle that the glyph and the hidden room still clung to them-like threads that hadn't yet fully unraveled.

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Later That Evening

Back in the Horned Serpent library annex, Ruby cleared off a corner table with a practiced sweep. She lit a small enchanted lantern and pulled her scarf tighter around her neck.

"Okay," she said, cracking open a fresh notebook. "Let's document what we found. No more forgetting details."

Serene leaned over her shoulder, whispering. "Start with the glyph. And the mirror. And the-whatever that presence was."

Aevelle sat beside them, watching the soft blue flame of the lantern reflect in the window. She pulled the parchment out again. Faded. Dormant.

But the memory of the voice-the feeling of being watched-still clung to her like mist.

They wrote until the candlelight burned low, piecing together fragments of a puzzle they barely understood.

Just before they left, Ruby asked quietly, "Do you think Soren might be... helpful?"

Aevelle hesitated. "Maybe. Or maybe he's a warning."

As they stepped into the hall, the lantern's flame flickered once-then pulsed, briefly, with a strange shimmer.

Unseen on the parchment in Aevelle's satchel, the faded glyph flared with a new glow-and beneath it, at last, a word etched itself into the page.