The grand entrance hall buzzed with noise and movement. Students in tailored uniforms milled about, some laughing in reunited clusters, others dragging monogrammed trunks across the marble floors. Portraits of former headmasters watched with mild interest from their gilded frames.

A bell chimed once, cutting through the chatter. Then twice.

At the top of the sweeping staircase, a figure emerged. Headmaster Aldric Thorne, a silver-haired man with a sharp gaze and an ornately carved walking stick, surveyed the hall with quiet authority. His eyes swept the crowd until they landed on you.