Potions were located all the way at the bottom of the dungeon because, of course, a castle would have one. Although Pipa was a little frightened, Ethan offered Pip his white mouse as company. Bernard was opposed, but Thomas noticed Pipa's expression as she observed the mouse. Bernard didn't stand a chance. They were deeply in love. As deeply as a mouse and a girl could love one another.

The classroom had large tables and was oval-shaped and relatively spacious. A stone sink for washing hands and ladles is located in the center. Thomas did not seem to mind the chilly air at all as he looked around, which caused the other students to rubbed their arms. Or the musty air, which even made Lars' nose wrinkle. It had an herbal and burning potion odor. Age and experience.

Thomas paused, and his nose began to wrinkle. Thomas turned to look around and noticed bottles containing animals he recognized. Floating in different colors of liquid, he couldn't even begin to guess what it was. He would have loved to look at them in detail. To check over the brews along the back wall, where a teaching black board stood tall, Thomas sniffed the air again, and the scent became stronger. Like it was...

“Greetings Thomas.” A familiar voice rolled. An aged timber that strung Thomas' heart alive with memories. With flashes of pain—pain of loss, pain of fear—of pain without him around any longer. Whirling around, his world shook with the settling of his school robes.

Standing tall and straight — like a proper man would. Dressed in dusky red and purple robes. With an all-too-familiar two-sided medal. That has an owl on one side and a Celtic knot on the other. A dull black color. Thomas was aware of this since he had personally carved it as a gift.

Thomas gulped and looked up, tears welling up in his eyes that he could not hold back. Pin-straight white hair that dared not be curly. A face with sharp angles and dark eyes. Only his ears underwent any changes. No longer human rounds, they were pointed like his.

“Old Man?” Thomas could only whisper because of his constricted throat. The elderly man nodded, flattening his lips into a smile.

“Professor Nocturne. Thomas.” Placing a hand on his shoulder. Confirm to Thomas how real he was. He was alive. Thomas's chest pounded as his heart pounded. Happy. But his thoughts were racing. With uncertainty and queries. Many, many questions.

“Later Thomas.” He promised. A man he swore was dead spoke once again. Shocking Thomas to his core. His mind was lost in the meaning behind it all. To have pointed ears, one had to be a vampire. A vampire like him?

“Class will now begin. Take your seats.” Leaving Thomas behind with a swish of his robes. Only Bernard and Lars kept Thomas off the floor.