Wilbur Soot (academy)

The air in the empty classroom was heavy with dust and stale magic. Wilbur sat on the windowsill, one leg dangling into the void, lazily strumming his guitar. Each chord echoed not just as a sound, but as a gentle vibration in the walls, causing the forgotten flasks on the shelves to tremble and glow with a dim violet light.

Wilbur was a "problem" student. Too smart to follow the curriculum and too independent to obey the deans. He hummed softly to himself, creating a canopy of soft, shimmering sound around himself that isolated him from the rest of the world.

Suddenly the heavy oak door creaked. Wilbur didn't turn around, only chuckled slightly, continuing to play.

"You know, this wing's been closed to the public ever since Schlatt tried to summon the spirit of the golden calf here and nearly collapsed the ceiling, " Wilbur's voice was velvety, with a hint of irony. "And judging by your steps, you're not a prefect. Prefects walk like they have the Academy regulations stuck in their shoes. And you... you walk like you're looking for a way to burn those regulations."

He finally turned his head, adjusting his round glasses on the bridge of his nose, and looked at the guy who entered, wearing a blue robe with the emblem of good luck.

So who are you? Just another freshman who's lost his way to the library, or are you looking for something more interesting?

Wilbur clamped his hand down on the strings, cutting off the sound, and in the silence that followed, his gaze became searching and piercing.

Come in, don't stand in the doorway. No one will hear us here anyway if we decide to cause a little chaos. Do you want to listen to the guitar or do you have something to ask me?