Chapter 22: The Rising Lights 1

June 7 2020.

Ha-Joon (Korea)

Music of the Forgotten

The violin had always been Ha-Joon's solace, a gift from his mother, who had passed long before the memory could truly settle. His music was simple—no grand compositions, no flourishes—just gentle, soothing notes that could heal. Music was his language. It was how he spoke when words failed. But his gift was also a curse. His notes could reveal hidden truths. Truths that some weren't ready to hear.

It was during one of his quiet sessions—playing beside a brook—that the invitation arrived. A note was placed beside his instrument, its parchment filled with soft, golden runes. It didn't need to be opened. He could hear the music, feel the notes shift in the air. His path had changed.

He stood up, folded the letter gently, and looked to the horizon. No more secrets, no more silence. The world was calling.

Jun-Soo Baek (Korea)

The Burden of Runes

Born under the shadow of his family's cursed lineage, Jun-Soo Baek had always known fear. He was a talented mage, yes. But magic didn't come easily to him. His talent with runes was born not of pride, but of necessity. He had learned to protect himself long ago, as protection was all he could offer.

Runes weren't just marks—they were chains. Chains that kept his darkest memories at bay. The curse that had followed his family for generations had left Jun-Soo with an unspoken debt. His magic was tied to the past, and when startled, the runes would flare up, revealing pieces of that past.

The invitation to Hogwarts was unlike any other. A simple piece of parchment inscribed with protective symbols appeared at his door, engraved in a cold, unfamiliar script. He recognised them immediately—symbols of protection—his protection.

The runes flared, and the past rushed back.

Ayaka Fuji (Japan)

Time's Tapestry

Ayaka Fuji had always seen the world in fragments. Not visions of the future, but loops. Her time magic bent the threads of fate like a weaver with a broken loom. What she saw, no one could quite understand—not even her. The magic had appeared unexpectedly when Ayaka was young—when she'd tried to mend the threads of time after her younger brother had fallen ill. She couldn't stop the fever, but she could stretch the moment.

Her ability was unpredictable, unrefined—but it was hers. In every stretch, she saw the faces of those she would meet, those she had not yet met, and the exact moment when she would make a mistake.

The letter arrived on a slow, peaceful afternoon. A slip of paper tucked inside a smooth stone, handed to her by a bird that had no right to be flying in winter. When she unsealed it, the world seemed to bend around her. Time looped. Twice. She felt herself repeating the same motion, the same breath. The feeling of déjà vu hit her harder than ever.

She wasn't ready. But time had no patience.

Chiharu Watanabe (Japan)

The Song of Ice

When Chiharu Watanabe stepped outside of the frozen gates of her home in the Hida Mountains, the world seemed to pause. She was a descendant of an ancient line of ice mages, and her connection to the glacial magic was as natural as breathing. For her, it was never about controlling the ice—it was about becoming it.

Her flute, carved from the fang of a long-dead ice dragon, was her instrument of creation. With a single note, she could summon storms, summon beauty, and summon the echoes of a thousand forgotten songs. But it was a curse, too. Ice had no heart. Coldness could never heal what had broken inside.

The invitation came to her on the first day of spring, the bloom of snowdrop flowers, pushing through the frozen earth. It arrived on a cool gust of wind, the parchment inscribed with runes that shimmered like frost, each stroke an ancient melody. As she read the letter aloud, the notes she played on her flute formed into a haunting tune that reverberated through the mountains, calling forth the beast she feared.

But it was more than a summons. It was a sign. Her path was no longer to be walked alone.

Rin Yukimura (Japan)

Reflections of the Soul

The mirrors had always haunted Rin Yukimura, even as a child. Born into an aristocratic family renowned for their mastery over reflective magic, Rin was trained to manipulate illusions, using mirrors to bend perception and show only what one needed—or feared—to see. But the true power came not from controlling what was seen, but what was hidden.

Rin's family had long been infamous for making pacts with forbidden forces, and when Rin's mirror magic went beyond their control, the family disintegrated under its weight. Rin was left with only fragments of the past—memories she could no longer trust.

The invitation to Hogwarts arrived not with a flourish, but in an almost unsettling stillness. The paper was slick, too smooth—like glass—reflecting Rin's own image as it unfolded. With each turn of the page, a reflection of a path long ago appeared before her: a corridor, lined with mirrors, filled with unfamiliar faces. Her heart trembled. The invitation had been known. She was seen.

Rin could no longer avoid what was coming. The past was calling her back, and this time, she had to look into the mirror.

Takeshi Himura (Japan)

Wind's Fury

Takeshi Himura stood at the edge of the Hokkaido cliffs, the wind a constant companion. His black kimono whipped violently, a reflection of his inner storm. He had been trained to fight—but not for glory. His life had always been shaped by a force greater than himself—the wind. It carried stories of ancestors long gone, and it whispered of destiny's burden.

Born into a family of elite samurai, Takeshi had been taught to embrace the balance of honour and strength. But after his family fell to scandal and accusations of betrayal to the Emperor, Takeshi's path veered into exile. It wasn't long before he discovered his affinity for wind magic—the ability to shape the atmosphere, twist air currents, and bend the world itself. Yet, it was his control over the wind's perspective that had made him dangerous in battle—and impossible to predict.

When he touched the invitation—a folded crane sent by Mahoutokoro Academy—it pulsed with warmth for a brief moment, a confirmation that his destiny was calling. The wind whistled sharply, almost like a warning. But Takeshi never flinched. It was a sound he had heard a thousand times. The time had come for him to face the unknown.

TO BE CONTINUED!