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This book is best viewed in portrait modeThe full moon cast an unearthly sheen over Platform Seven-and-Three Quarters. There, gleaming beneath the lunar light, stood the Mystic Express—its carriages forged of polished silver, stretching into the distance like the coils of a slumbering serpent. Steam hissed from its chimney in elegant bursts, curling into the shapes of dragons mid-flight and phoenixes ablaze, each one vanishing into the night sky.
Isabella-Lily Morgan stood transfixed. She had spent the summer poring over every page of A Comprehensive Guide to Enchanted Vessels, yet nothing in those pages could have prepared her for this moment. The train wasn’t just transportation—it was a spectacle,
a wonder technology and magic.
The platform pulsed with life. Second years clung to tearful goodbyes, their attempts at casual coolness betrayed by trembling hands. Third years clustered in chaotic cliques, laughter and gossip spilling like potion fumes. And the first years—Isabella among them—stood wide-eyed and silent, hearts thudding with the thrill of their first journey to Frostings Hollow Academy of Magical Arts.
"Now remember," her mother fussed, straightening Isabella's already-straight collar for the hundredth time, "write to us as soon as you arrive, and don't forget to feed Artemis." The spotted owl in question hooted softly from
her cage, as if acknowledging her mention.
“Mom, I know,” Isabella replied, her voice gentle but amused. “According to the orientation packet Owl Post arrives every morning at breakfast. I’ll write tonight.”
Her father stepped forward, wrapping her in a hug that spoke volumes. He’d been quiet through all the magical whirlwind, saving his words for this moment. “We’re so proud of you, Izzy,” he muttered. “First witch in the family. You’re going to do incredible things.”
Isabella held him tightly, breathing in the comforting scent of his coffee-worn sweater. Being the only magical child in a non-magical household came with its own set of
hurdles—but lack of love had never been one of them.
A piercing whistle sliced through the evening air, startling a few neighborhood cats into yowling their disapproval. “All aboard!” came the familiar cry, quickly followed by a booming voice echoing across the platform: “Five minutes to departure!”
Isabella tightened her grip on her trunk (thankfully enchanted with a lightness charm by a kindly shopkeeper in Moonlight Alley) and hurried toward the nearest carriage. The steps leading up to the train shone dimly with etched runes, each one glowing faintly as students ascended, reacting to the unique flicker of magic
within every passenger who stepped into the carriage.
Inside, the corridor was larger than the outside of the train had indicated-a bit of magic that set Isabella's scientific mind abuzz with wonder. She started to make her way down the carriage, glancing into compartments until she found an empty one. Just as she was storing her trunk in the overhead rack, two other first-year students appeared in the doorway.
"Mind if we join?" asked a girl with tight copper curls and freckles sprinkled across her nose. "Anywhere else is either full or taken by older kids who look like they'd jinx us just for asking."
"Please," Isabella motioned to the empty chairs. "I'm Isabella-Lily Morgan." "Penny Blackwood," the redhead introduced herself, helping her companion wrestle their trunks into place. "And this is Oliver Chen. We met at the wand fitting last week."
Oliver stood awkwardly, his lanky frame accentuated by rectangular glasses and a camera dangling from his neck. He offered a shy wave. “The wandmaker had to test seventeen wands before mine chose me. Penny’s only took two.” he very awkwardly declared.
“Lucky,” Isabella chuckled. “Mine took twelve tries.” She drew her wand “eight inches of wyrm wood, its core infused with dragon scales."
The handle bore spiraling carvings that twinkled subtly when caught in the right light.
“Dragon scales? Wyrm wood?” Oliver gasped. “I didn’t even know that was possible!” “It was the only one that resonated with me,” Isabella said, her tone thoughtful. “Even the wandmaker looked stunned when it yielded to my will”
Penny stepped closer, eyes bright with wonder as she drank in the wand’s beauty. “It’s exquisite… may I hold it?” she asked, almost breathless. Isabella nodded and placed the wand gently in her hands.
The moment Penny took hold of it, she staggered backward lost her balance and collapsed
to the floor, the wand dragging her down as if it weighed a hundred pounds.
Oliver rushed toward her, alarmed. “Penny! What happened?” “…It’s ridiculously heavy,” her voice strained, still clutching the wand with trembling fingers.
Isabella frowned, confused. She knelt and gently retrieved the wand from Penny’s grip—lifting it effortlessly. “Heavy?” she said, turning it over in her hand. “You must be kidding. It’s light as air to me.” She couldn’t help but giggle. “Surely, you must of just tripped on something?”
“Strange, that wand of yours.” Penny whispered as she gathered herself from off the floor. Helped by Oliver.
The train gave a sudden lurch, followed by a sharp hiss of steam from somewhere below. The sound broke their focus, pulling them away from the wand discussion. But instead of gliding away from the platform, the Mystic Express merely trembled in place.
“That’s… odd,” Penny murmured, her brow furrowing as she pressed her face to the window. “We should’ve left by now.”
A ripple of unease spread through the compartments. Isabella caught snippets of speculation from older students nearby—whispers of mechanical failure, magical interference, or something more mysterious. Then, a seventh-year prefect swept past their door, silver badge gleaming, his expression tight with concern.
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The full moon cast an unearthly sheen over Platform Seven-and-Three Quarters. There, gleaming beneath the lunar light, stood the Mystic Express—its carriages forged of polished silver, stretching into the distance like the coils of a slumbering serpent. Steam hissed from its chimney in elegant bursts, curling into the shapes of dragons mid-flight and phoenixes ablaze, each one vanishing into the night sky.
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In ornare quam viverra orci sagittis eu volutpat odio. Id interdum velit laoreet id donec ultrices tincidunt arcu. Eget arcu dictum varius duis at consectetur lorem donec.
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