“Easy there, young man, easy.”

Harry wiped his mouth with the warm, wet towel the nurse provided. He still felt a bit dizzy and now he had a nasty taste in his mouth, but at least the world stopped lurching under him. Now it just gently swayed.

The older man and the nurse were crowded around him and Harry wanted to heave again. Too many strangers - too close.

“I wasn’t expecting such a reaction when he woke up or I would have called you sooner, Judith. My apologies,” the old man said. “Do you need to look him over again, or could this be…?”

The trailing off seemed ominous, as did the nurse’s sharp nod. “I believe so, but I’m just a first level nurse. You’d need at least a third level medic to untangle that. One that specializes in bonds, preferably.”

Harry’s ears rang for a few minutes while they fussed. Eventually the nurse left, and Harry was coherent enough to look around him. He recognized the room despite the fact that the decor was slightly different and the man behind the desk wasn’t his great grandfather, Principal Kingsley. “Who are you?” Harry finally asked. He rubbed his throat, uncertain if the soreness was from his stomach rebelling or something else.

“Cup of tea?” the man asked, already halfway through pouring a mug. “Nurse Roberts said you might have a sore throat, and I imagine you’d like something to erase the taste of that episode. This brew should be gentle on your stomach, just in case.”

“Thank you, sir, but that doesn’t answer my question,” Harry said as he accepted the mug and the plastic bear filled with honey.

“Plenty of honey now, mind you. It’s good for you, and will help ease your throat. I am Principal Johns.”

Harry stirred in a good amount of the sweetener while he took in that information. His great grandfather had taken over the principal position from a man named Johns. The former principal had died during the war with Tumolia, at least thirty years before Harry was born.

“Careful, it’s hot,” the older man warned, lifting his own mug in a motion similar to a toast.

Harry nodded and blew on the surface of the liquid before attempting a sip. The man looked to be in his forties (though looks could be deceiving with well trained mages), with a bit of gray in his beard and hair. He wore practical and neat clothes, with a long-sleeved shirt that was crisp and pressed. The black vest over it resembled the night sky with a shimmer of runes in the stitching that looked like stars.

The whole office seemed similarly practical. Principal Kingsley had trinkets from various school teams and functions - trophies, banners, and the occasional bit of scattered equipment - where Johns had books, papers, and a computer humming in the corner. He did celebrate the school a bit with a banner from each of the various mage tracks on the walls as well as a single school flag. The crystal ball to detect talents sat on a stool in the corner, collecting dust.