Chapter 69 You Owe No One an Explanation

Chapter 69 You Owe No One an Explanation

Olivia's POV

"Jane told me through a magical messenger that you didn't go back to the dorm, and she told me what happened today. I was worried. I guessed you would come here."

His fingertips tightened slightly, pulling me closer.

In that moment, I let down all my defenses. I cried in his arms, as if to let out all the hurt and sorrow.

He just held me tight. We could feel each other's chests rise and fall. He didn't speak for a long time.

He didn't need to say anything. Just holding me like that was enough. That solid, broad embrace seemed able to block out all the cruel words and emotions.

In that moment, I suddenly felt like we were the only two people left in the world. Not lonely, but like my pain was being caught and held.

His heartbeat pressed against my ear, steady beat after beat, more stable than my crying. As if no matter how those people looked at me, what they said about me, how unfairly the professor treated me—as long as he was still there, I could stand firm. Not that he was carrying it for me, but that he let me know I didn't have to carry it alone.

The next day after class I ran out. The hallway was crowded, and I ran all the way to the archway on the west side of the academic building. Ethan was already there.

He was leaning against a stone pillar, holding a rolled-up piece of parchment. When he saw me coming, he stuffed the paper back in his pocket.

"Why are you running?" His eyes held a smile.

I stopped in front of him, tilted my face up, and grinned.

"I want to hear you praise me," I said. "I cast the protection charm."

Ethan looked at me for two seconds, then reached out and patted the back of my head lightly. Not too hard, not too soft, like calming down an eager animal that had just run over.

"I already told you that you could do it," he said plainly, but I could hear something in it. He had always believed I would have this day, and hearing me say it really happened, he was still happy.

Charms class was in the afternoon. The main focus was the light charm—not the kind that could illuminate a large area, just a small beam, like a flashlight shooting from the tip of the wand.

The professor stood by the podium, a small white light at the end of her wand. Not glaring, very steady.

She said the light charm doesn't need shouting, doesn't need big gestures. The more nervous you are, the more the light shakes; the more relaxed, the steadier it becomes. It's not forced out of you—it's invited.

Then came free practice time.

I raised my wand, pointing it at the book in front of me.

"Lumino."

Nothing.

I tried again, changing my mindset and how I applied force.

The tip of my wand lit up for a moment. Very small, like the flame on a freshly struck match. It flickered and went out. But I saw it.

I tried again. This time it didn't go out. A small ball of light hung there, wobbling, like a child just learning to stand. I stared at it, afraid it would go out, and it wobbled even more.

I remembered what the professor had said: "The more nervous you are, the more the light shakes."

I relaxed my shoulders, slowed my breathing, and stopped staring at that ball of light.

The light stopped shaking. It just stayed there, quietly glowing.

The professor passed by me, glanced down, and said nothing. But I saw her make a mark in her notebook. Very casual, but I noticed.

Ethan sat next to me. The light at the tip of his wand was weaker than what he usually produced, but also very steady. It wasn't that he couldn't do it; he just didn't want to stand out too much. In class he always kept his level at "good enough," nothing more.

"Look." I tilted my wand toward him, showing him my light.

He moved his light closer. Two beams side by side, one large, one small.

I looked at those two lights next to each other and suddenly felt very calm inside.

Basic Transfiguration was scheduled after Charms, in the classroom at the very back of the academic building. The room wasn't big, the lighting wasn't good, and in the afternoon it relied entirely on wall lamps.

Daphne Adams always stood behind the podium, both hands on the edge of the desk, staring at everyone who came in.

I didn't like this classroom. Not because of the poor lighting, but because in this room, I was the dumbest one.

Everyone could transform something—matches into needles, stones into buttons, paper into paper cranes. Although none of them transformed very well—the needles were bent, the buttons had rough edges, the paper cranes couldn't fly—at least they transformed.

Daphne never scolded me, never punished me. But the way she looked at me was different from how she looked at others. Not malicious, but still that "why are you still here" kind of confusion.

When I walked into the classroom today, Daphne was already standing behind the podium. Gray robe, hair pulled back tight, lips pressed into a line, looking like she was in a bad mood.

Ethan and I sat in the row against the wall. He sat on the inside, I sat on the outside.

After class started, Daphne had everyone take turns going up to demonstrate last week's transfiguration practice—turning pebbles into beetles.

One after another went up. Some transformed reasonably well, the beetle's legs and body distinguishable; some didn't, the stone just softened, spreading into a blob of gray-black mud on the desk. Daphne commented on each one. Her tone wasn't harsh, but every sentence cut.

"Two extra legs."

"The shell pattern is reversed."

"This isn't a beetle. You just flattened the stone."

When it was the boy in front of me's turn, he transformed the stone into a beetle. Although it only had three legs, at least it looked like a beetle.

Daphne nodded, then looked up toward me.

"Olivia."

I stood up and walked to the front of the room.

A pebble sat on the desk. Gray-white, ordinary.

I took a breath and raised my wand.

"Verto."

Nothing.

I said it again. This time the pronunciation was clearer, the movement more standard.

Still nothing.

The pebble lay steadily on the desk. Gray-white, oval, exactly the same as when I came in.

Someone in the classroom shifted their chair. Someone changed position, and that sound rang out especially loud in the quiet room, like a sigh.

Daphne looked at me for three or four seconds.

"You still can't do it."

Those four words were said very calmly. No anger, no disappointment, just like saying "it's raining today" or "this water is cold."

"You've been at the academy for almost a semester. You can't even do basic transfiguration." She put her wand on the podium and crossed her arms. "Olivia, can you actually do transfiguration or not?"

The classroom was extremely quiet.

I looked at that pebble. Gray-white, oval, lying quietly in front of me.

I didn't know how to answer.

Could I actually do transfiguration? I really didn't know. Darian said I wasn't a Phoenix, Cedric said to wait for my energy to awaken, Jane said my energy was too strong and suppressed so it couldn't come out—those were all things other people said. I didn't know anything myself.

I couldn't say "yes," because I'd never transformed anything.

I also couldn't say "no," because I hadn't given up yet.

I just stood there. A stone in front of me, the whole class's gaze behind me, Daphne beside me with crossed arms waiting for me to speak.

I didn't speak.

Then I heard a chair scrape behind me—very crisp, with some force—

Ethan stood up.