I was too excited to care about the fact that I was quite literally bouncing in my seat. My gaze swept across the Draconia Academy staff, taking in the characters I’d grown up with all my life. 

There was Professor Phiphyra, head of the School of Physical Arts and Owen’s greatest mentor after Banecliff. She was stern and commanding but had one of the biggest hearts in the series. Phiphyra wore a dark blue gown with a frilly collar that rose up to her chin. Colorful pins shaped like butterflies were woven into her white hair, their wings flapping as if alive.

Beside her stood a younger man with messy purple hair, the head of the School of Mental Arts, Professor Leovi. He wore circular green-lensed glasses that completely obscured his eyes and an oversized dark-green jacket adorned with eyes along the sleeves that blinked open and closed, despite being stitched from fabric. The coat hung loosely, slipping off his shoulders and catching on his elbows.

Professor Leovi was a notorious slacker, prankster, and a fairly minor character, only around to be comic relief. A reputation he was currently living up to as he flicked his wand, sending a flask slipping out of the sleeve of the professor in front of him and flying into his own hand. With a smirk, Leovi tilted his head back and downed it with a gulp.

And then there was the professor he’d stolen from—the head of the School of Alchemic Arts, Professor Drokav. He wore a dark purple suit, the color of freshly spilled wine, with bags under his eyes, black hair streaked with white, and a goatee. Later in the books, it’s revealed that Professor Drokav was secretly working for The Great Darkness. Which wasn’t a huge shocker. I mean, c’mon! Just look at the guy!

The rest of the staff stood behind them, some who hadn’t even been mentioned in the books. I made a note to memorize them so I could add them to any upcoming fanfiction I might write. 

Headmaster Banecliff’s gaze swept over us. “It’s wonderful to have you all back for another year of magic!”

Cheers rang through the great hall. I joined in, jumping to my feet as I clapped, whooped, and hollered. Lucian rolled his eyes, grabbing me by the arm to tug me back down. 

Banecliff brought a slender finger to his lips and a hush quickly settled over the great hall. 

“Now, before we begin I would like to touch on last year’s great tragedy,” Banecliff said. “At the end of last semester, a charity banquet was held in an attempt to improve human and elvish relations. Citizens came from all over Mageteria to attend, including our very own student body and many of their families.”

Lucian shifted uncomfortably next to me, tugging at his tie. 

“Despite Draconia’s ironclad security measures, at the end of this event, the school was attacked by a wyvern. Over a hundred were killed, including twenty-five of our own students.”

The festive atmosphere in the great hall vanished, replaced by the heavy weight of tragedy. Heads bowed and eyes closed as the students of Draconia remembered their fallen classmates.

“I speak for the entire school and faculty when I say we are absolutely devastated by this horrific event,” Bancliff continued. “We are still looking to find out how the wyvern was able to enter—”

“It was the elves!” a student shouted from the back. “Everyone knows they’re all dirty Darkness sympathizers!” 

This triggered a chorus of voices, with students erupting into arguments. They shot to their feet, snapping and yelling at each other, a few beginning to push and shove. The sharp crack of a slap echoed through the hall as someone was backhanded across the face.

“ENOUGH!” Banecliff yelled, his voice booming through the great hall. 

With a swift flick of his wand, everyone froze. Literally. Arms stayed outstretched, mouths hanging open mid-shout, as if they had all turned to statues.

I tried to move my leg but couldn’t even feel it, like when a limb falls asleep—except this was every cell of my body. It was strange, having your awareness trapped in a motionless shell. I knew I should have been freaked out by the sensation, but Banecliff was one of the most powerful magicians to ever live. Getting to experience this level of psychomancy in real life was so flipping cool!

If I could move the muscles in my face, I would most definitely be smiling, and Lucian would think I was even more of a psychopath. 

The sensation lasted only a split second. In the next moment, we were released. The other students gasped, sinking back into their seats with wide eyes. The tension in the hall dissipated slightly, replaced by a collective sense of awe and respect for Banecliff.

Banecliff took a deep breath, his voice returning to its usual calm tone. “Draconia is the most powerful school in the magical world, and do you know why? It’s because we all work together. Here, elves and humans study side by side in peace, and we are all stronger because of it. I expect each and every one of you to uphold that legacy.”

Banecliff’s lips curved into a gentle smile as he stared out at us. “Now is the time to leave behind the pain of the past and move forward into the future. And what better way to do that than by dividing our first-years into their magic classes?”

Holy shit! I was about to actually witness the Division Ceremony! I barely managed to suppress the urge to leap from my chair and start jumping up and down with joy.

“Anyone who has not been divided into a magic class, step forward,” Banecliff commanded. “Join us at the center of the hall.”

The screech of chairs against the stone floor filled the air as the first-year students stood up. They were still dressed in their civilian clothes, their faces soft with baby fat. They were totally adorable.

“Why are you still sitting here like a gnome that doesn’t know what to do with himself on holiday?” Lucian hissed. “You’re a transfer, which means you haven’t been sorted yet. So go on, get over there—chop-chop.”

I grit my teeth. “Uh… I don’t think that’s really necessary.”

“Is this everyone?” Banecliff asked, scanning the first years. 

“One more!” Lucian called, pointing directly at me. He kicked me under the table, causing me to yelp and stumble to my feet. “Over here!”

I was going to kill him. 

The heads of everyone in the great hall turned to face me.

Shoulders slumped, I reluctantly trudged to join the others, each step heavy with dread. The first-years stared back at me with big, rounded eyes. It was then that I realized I was a grown-ass man standing at the center of a swarm of ten-year-olds. 

Lucian gave me a thumbs up. 

I heroically didn’t flip him off in front of a crowd of children. 

Banecliff’s piercing eyes locked onto mine, his eyebrow arching in mild surprise.

My face burned. Yeah, so this wasn’t exactly the scenario I’d pictured meeting one of my beloved childhood heroes in. 

Thankfully, Banecliff cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. “Now,” he proclaimed, throwing out his hands, “let the Division Ceremony commence!”

The ground beneath us rumbled as the large square of floor we stood on began to rise, lifting us above the rest of the student body and hovering in mid-air

Banecliff flicked his wand with a flourish, and a shimmering bubble of magic enveloped us, catching the light and sparkling like liquid starlight. At the center of the platform, a pile of assorted items materialized with a soft pop—vials filled with glowing potions, safety wands buzzing with protective magic, and amulets pulsing with psychic energy.

“Nothing brings out one’s natural power like a competition,” Banecliff announced, his voice reverberating through the hall. “Your goal is to get your opponents to the ground. If you fall, you’re out. See which of these objects you’re drawn to in a high-pressure environment, and which you are able to use effectively.”

So, to summarize, it’s essentially fantasy dodgeball. 

Banecliff’s eyes gleamed. “And, to inspire you to try your best, the last one standing will be awarded—the Champion’s Cap!”

Professor Phiphyra glided up behind Banecliff, carrying an object draped in a silk cloth. 

My eyeballs nearly burst from my head. No way! The Champion’s Cap! 

Owen and Lucian’s rivalry had begun as first-years during the Division Ceremony when Owen beat Lucian for the cap. I used to have a merch version of it as a kid, which I wore every day, pretending I had won it too, just like Owen.

That was until I woke up one morning and my dad told me a random dog had broken into my room in the middle of the night and ‘eaten it.’ I don’t know what was sadder, that my dad hadn’t even bothered to come up with a good excuse or that I’d actually believed it. 

I’d cried myself to sleep for a week over that. 

But now I had a chance at getting my hands on the actual Champion’s Cap. It was like a limited edition, but even better, because it was real!

Unfortunately, there were two glaring issues. Problem one: to win the cap, you needed to win the competition. Problem two: to win the competition, you needed powers—powers I didn’t have.

Unless there was another way…

My eyes narrowed, rubbing my hands together as an idea began to form. 

Banecliff’s wand twirled, sending a spectacular display of fireworks in the Schools of Magic’s colors—purple, blue, and green—bursting into the air, lighting up the entire hall. “Begin!”

In an instant, the platform erupted into chaos. 

A little girl with pigtails lunged for a wand, her small hands snatching it from the ground. She swung it, unleashing a blast of water that arced through the air and splashed into another child, knocking him over.

The ground around the little girl glowed a brilliant blue, as if illuminated by a spotlight. 

“Lovely,” Professor Phiphyra said, clapping her hands together. “Miss Mabel Daring has been sorted into the School of Physical Arts.” 

Nearby, a boy with a mop of ginger hair threw a potion at Mabel. It crashed to the ground, fizzling out in a cloud of harmless bubbles.

“Oh dear,” Professor Drokav sneered. “Seems that one doesn’t have the natural instincts for picking potions. Not an Alchemancer, then.”

Banecliff offered the boy a reassuring smile. “I’m sure he’ll find his proficiency soon enough.”

Across the platform, a blonde boy grabbed an amulet, holding it high. His eyes flared green, and the girl in front of him sank to the ground, her movements sluggish as if weighed down by invisible chains.

A green glow lit up the boy. 

“A Psychomancer, nice,” Professor Leovi said, tipping his stolen flask. “Rock on kid.”

I hung back like a chaperone at a kid’s birthday party as the children raced around me, barely reaching my elbows. Wands were swung, releasing bursts of water and wind. Potions exploded in colorful splashes, while amulets glowed bright. Green, blue, and purple lights illuminated the first-years as they discovered their magical classes one after another. 

“It’s always a pleasure to witness the Division Ceremony,” Banecliff said, watching with pride. “I believe it’s a truly special moment in a young magician’s life—where the students of Draconia Academy find the true power within themselves.”

Little Mabel’s gaze locked onto me as she charged forward, wand outstretched, clearly determined to take me down and claim the Champion’s Cap.

“It is a beautiful moment of self-discovery, resilience, and finding the strength within your own heart,” Banecliff continued. “You’re going to shine so brightly that nothing will ever dim your sparkle—”

As Mabel lunged at me, wand swinging, I simply reached out and knocked her over.

She tumbled to the ground with a surprised yelp, her eyes wide as she disappeared from the platform in a burst of shimmering light. Mabel’s stunned expression remainted plastered to her face as she joined the other disqualified students gathered beside Banecliff. 

“Err, sorry,” I called. “Good game, kid.” 

A boy in a red hoodie charged at me next, hurling a burst of wind in my direction. I easily sidestepped it, then gave him a light push on the shoulder. The boy spun like a top and collapsed in a heap, disappearing off the platform.

“Sorry,” I said again with a wince. 

A pair of boys, one clutching an amulet and the other wielding a potion, attempted a coordinated attack. The boy with the amulet raised it high. With a wave of my hand, I knocked it from his grip. The boy holding the potion lunged forward, but with a quick sweep of my foot, I tripped him. He toppled over, knocking into his friend, and they both vanished from the platform. 

“Sorry,” I called, “super sorry. Y’know… I just really want that hat.”

The children kept coming at me, and I kept effortlessly taking them out—because, let’s be real here… magical or not, I was fighting ten-year-olds.

The crowd was dead silent, eyes wide in shock. But as a super fan of the series, I knew there wasn’t any actual rule against this. So I just kept knocking children over like garden gnomes, while everyone watched in horror. 

Almost everyone, anyway. 

“Hell yeah!” Lucian cheered from the audience. “Eff them kids!”