Secrets in the Shadows

The next morning, Elara woke to the trills of the dormitory’s songbirds—real ones, perched on enchanted branches that grew through their windows and shed petals onto the floor. Her suitcase was tidily packed beneath her bed (Rowan had banished every stray sock with a swish), and she had a uniform now—blouse, cloak, and a sash the color of midnight with a tiny moon gleaming on the pin.

The corridors no longer shimmered with newness alone. Now they seemed tense, always shifting, staircases trading places and skylights flickering in and out of cloudy existence. Elara tried to memorize the school map but each day’s routes rearranged in sly defiance of memory.

By the second hour of the morning, Elara had already become nearly invisible among the busy, bustling crowds. Lina led the way, her satchel brimming with sprigs of something blue, and Rowan charged ahead, guiding them toward the Hall of Alchemy.

“First day, first spill, I wager,” Rowan said, throwing Elara a crooked grin. “Whatever happens, don’t eat the powder.”

The classroom was alive with sunlight and the thick, spicy scent of brewing projects. Professor Pembrook, a portly man with a vest of patchwork velvet, explained the basics of a Binding Draught.

“Careful what you bind, and even more careful what you unbind!” he announced, tapping a chalkboard that erased itself as quickly as he wrote.

Elara tried to recall every step, but her cauldron only belched a thin purple foam. When she leaned in, her face was spattered with glittering drops. Rowan, meanwhile, summoned a perfect diamond-clear potion that swirled lazily like a drowsy fish.

After class, as students shuffled cauldrons back to the storage cupboard, Magnus Crane passed behind Elara, flicking an approving look at her efforts. Was it a smirk or a smile? She couldn’t tell. His own potion fumed like storm clouds.

The day didn’t let up. Charms class, led by bristly Professor Grimble, was no better. Nearly all her classmates made feathers float delicate as snow. Elara’s feather sailed away, leaving behind a small crater where it landed. Somehow, Lina looked more dismayed than Elara.

“It takes time,” Lina whispered, sliding her a note: ‘Meet me in the library after supper?’

Wisteria Hollow’s rules, meanwhile, felt both arbitrary and crucial. You could walk through certain doors only at certain hours. Potions could not be brewed near portraits. And no one, ever, should go near the southernmost corridor after dusk.

During dinner, Elara poked at rose-petal pudding, listening as the room buzzed about the upcoming House Duels. But the air shifted when the faculty made their rounds. She overheard anxious talk—someone had been caught out of bounds near the southern wing. Professor Blackwood’s eyes were sharper than usual.

Later, Elara slipped from the common room, sleep’s dullness fighting with a restless need for air. She tiptoed past suits of armor and a stairwell that tried (unsuccessfully) to lead her outside.

The castle seemed less welcoming at night. Shadows pooled in corners; the soft purr of magic was now a low, watchful hum. On the ground floor, she glimpsed strange lights flitting just beyond a set of ornate doors. Drawn by curiosity, she crept closer. The air changed—colder, tighter. There was a faint, metallic ripple in the stonework, a sensation of being watched. The doors at the end—carved with silvered glass insets—quivered with silent warning.

From the darkness nearby, voices whispered:

“…not safe, especially after last year. Didn’t you hear what happened?”

“I heard, but the Headmistress said—”

“It’s still locked. But he said it tried again—something… moving behind the glass.”

Elara held her breath. She thought she recognized one voice: Ivy Corvus, the older girl with a haunted look. The other sounded anxious.

Footsteps scuffed; a door opened and closed. Heart pounding, Elara waited until she was sure she was alone. She returned up the stairs, every shadow now suspect, and slipped back to the safety of her room.

The next day, she found Lina in the library—hidden beneath a spiral staircase carved with lions and vines. Lina was reading a book nearly as large as her torso, but when she saw Elara, she set it aside and gestured to a nearby table already piled with volumes: Illusions and Their Consequences, Above and Below: Secret Architecture of Magical Institutions, and The Art of Everyday Camouflage.

“I thought you might like these,” Lina said, her voice full of warmth. “Besides, I met someone who knows all the best hiding spots.”

A thin, scatter-brained witch with wild hair and an armful of library fines appeared, cheeks flushed. “Hi—Corin Mallow,” she said. “You’re the new one? If you get lost, I’m the one people send for. I’ve been here ages, I think.”

Corin made Elara laugh immediately: she accidentally summoned a shelf of tiny origami foxes while looking for quills.

They searched for books on school history at Corin’s suggestion. “You never know what the older editions might hide! I once found a beetle nest in Modern Herbology. It was… not in the syllabus.”

Elara’s fingers trailed over a battered red volume, The Veiled Era of Wisteria, half-buried on a shadowy shelf. Opening it, a folded paper fluttered out.

Lina peered over her shoulder. “Is that…?”

Elara unfolded the fragile parchment. Neat, crabbed handwriting spelled out a warning: ‘The key is not what it seems. Beware the silvered glass.’

They stared at each other. Elara’s heart twitched, a mixture of fear and anticipation blooming inside her. The secrets of Wisteria Hollow were close, closer than ever.

Corin, peering over their shoulders, simply nodded gravely. “Sounds like adventure to me.”

Elara pressed the note into her notebook. For the first time amidst the confusion, she felt a glimmer of purpose—a sense that she might not just belong here, but matter to the school’s mystery itself.