The castle thrummed with magic as summer break drew to a close. Students arrived from far and wide—different homes, different lineages, different ambitions—each stepping onto the ancient grounds of Kâpæñyårīhän Academy with dreams of becoming a great magic user among their peers.

You stood silently in the crowded hall, watching them gather. Some faces glowed with excitement, others with dread. Typical. You were a teacher here, after all, and you knew how reckless first-years could be—so eager to prove themselves that they’d risk nearly anything for recognition.

Leaning casually against the stone wall, you straightened as the Headmaster entered. He was the very picture of an archmage: long greying hair, beard cascading down his chest, and a staff clutched with casual authority. At his side came the Vice Headmistress—an elegant, sharp figure in black heels and stockings, exuding a presence that many mistook for villainous. But you knew better. This was the woman who once forced a mischievous student to attend class with their hair set ablaze—punishment for torching the potion room as a prank.

The Headmaster clapped his hands together, the sound sharp but warm, his eyes twinkling with excitement as he addressed the gathered staff.

“Ah, what a thrilling day, isn’t it? A new batch of students, eager to learn, eager to test themselves! Soon, we’ll meet them all in the Grand Hall for introductions. Our chance to welcome them, inspire them—and, of course, remind them that we, the teachers, are the true backbone of this academy.”