Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

At every table around him, Sangwon could hear the scratching of quills against parchment, yet the page in front of him sat empty. He let his quill fall against the table, rubbing his hands over his face with a quiet groan. 

“Summaries, I can do. Essays? Easy. But what am I even supposed to say in a pen pal letter?” he said, frustration evident in his tone. 

Across the table from him, Leo didn’t even look up from his Astronomy textbook, noting down the different star movement patterns. When Sangwon let out another annoyed sigh, he just rolled his eyes, finally putting the quill down.

“What’s the big deal, man? Just write to them, say hi. Tell them a bit about yourself and ask a few questions”, he said. 

Sure, it sounds simple enough when Leo says it like that, but Sangwon is what you could call a bit of an overthinker at times. And as such, had absolutely no idea what to write. It was quite a novel concept to him. Normally, he did very well with writing tasks, which is why he got an E in subjects like History of Magic in his first and second years. Writing was always easier than talking. 

Writing that essentially mirrors talking? Impossible.

He slumped forward, letting his forehead hit the table. 

“I think I would’ve preferred it at this point if we did this pen pal event with any school apart from Ilvermorny. I’ll even take Beauxbatons right now. And we see them more regularly, too! Since when did Hogwarts interact with Ilvermorny anyway?”

“Since this pen pal event, I guess. And then you’d be even more stuck because you can’t speak a lick of French. At least you can speak English.” Leo replied, picking up his quill again. “If you really can’t do it, then just put the parchment away for the moment. I’m seriously struggling with Jupiter and all its moons right now.”

Unable to refute his points, Sangwon carefully rolled up his still blank sheet of parchment, pulling Leo’s notes towards him to help him revise. He’d come back to it after clearing his head. He was just making it harder than it needed to be.

***

His page was still blank. 

Despite pulling it out right after getting back to the Hufflepuff common rooms after dinner, there was nothing more on the page than a quick greeting. Leo’s advice rose to the forefront of his mind again, like an annoying little bug that kept flying around his head. Maybe a somewhat helpful one, though. It wasn’t as if the parchment he was given in class was a special one anyway. If he didn’t like it, he could just restart. 

‘Just write something,’ Sangwon thought to himself, dipping his quill in the inkwell next to him a few times, finally writing the first letter. He just hoped his pen pal liked it. 

To Zhou Anxin…

***

The dining hall was filled with nervous and excited energy at breakfast as the second-year Ilvermorny students awaited the daily owls. They’d been told about the pen pal event happening between select students at their school and Hogwarts during each of their first History of Magic lessons. It was a bit of a risk to tell them in that class, in Anxin’s opinion. After all, most students fell asleep practically upon stepping through the doorway. It would’ve been much more effective to notify the students during a class like Defence Against the Dark Arts. 

Then again, maybe he just thought that because it was the one class he was guaranteed to pay attention to. 

His musings were broken by the screech of owls, dozens flying in through the roof’s opening with parcels, packages and parchment. Students were reaching out to catch whatever was dropped for them before it got into their food, excitedly tearing open the seals. 

Despite expecting something for himself, Anxin still startled when a brown owl suddenly swooped down towards him, dropping two tied-up scrolls in his lap. 

The first was a letter from his mother, asking if he had a good trip to Ilvermorny and wishing him luck for the start of his third year. Making a mental note to write back to her later tonight, Anxin picked up the second scroll, drumming his fingers on the table in excitement. 

Next to him, his best friend, Jiahao, noticed his actions and nudged him. 

“Aren’t you going to read it? You’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

He grinned, “Yeah, and what about you? Your scroll is still just sitting there.”

Jiahao rolled his eyes, picking up another baozi from a nearby plate. “I’ll read it after I eat. Don’t want it getting stained.”

“That’s fair, I guess. I’m not waiting, though. I just wanted to read the scroll from my mum first.”

Ignoring Jiahao’s reply in favour of the scroll, Anxin carefully untied the string holding it together. He moved his plate to the side to make room for it, unrolling it on the table. 

To Zhou Anxin

Hi, my name’s Lee Sangwon, and I’m your new pen pal from Hogwarts. It’s nice to sort of meet you. 

I’ve been told to just say a bit about myself. So, I’m 13 and my birthday is May 8. I live in the UK (you probably knew that, though, considering that I’m a Hogwarts student), but I’m Korean. I’m not sure what else to say for basic information.

My favourite subject is Care of Magical Creatures, but I also really like subjects such as Charms, Potions and Study of Ancient Runes. They’re just interesting. Oh, and I’m a Hufflepuff. Though I don’t know if that means anything to you. And my hobbies include reading and dancing. 

Not really sure what to ask you, so if you’d be able to just provide the same information, that’d be great. Of course, if you don’t want to, that’s fine. I don’t mind. And if you have any questions for me, please ask them. I’m sure you’re better at this than I am. 

Reply when you can,
Lee Sangwon

The guy was… strangely adorable. It was almost as if he was trying hard not to ramble out of nervousness while writing this. He couldn’t help but laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” Jiahao asked, finally reaching for his own scroll.

He waved it off, “Nothing, nothing, nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

All that earned him was a side glance from Jiahao, suspicion evident in his eyes before they turned to the words on his own page. 

Anxin just shook his head at his friend’s needless suspicion, reading over Sangwon’s letter again. In his head, he was already drafting a mental reply to write up after classes finished for the day. 

‘I think I’m going to get along great with this guy,’ he thought to himself. 

Chapter Text

It had taken a little bit over a week, but there was finally a reply dropped on the table in front of Sangwon. It was such an innocent thing, really – just a rolled-up, off-white piece of parchment with a wax seal of the Ilvermorny crest holding it together. But Sangwon just stared at it as if the foreign animals would jump off at him, quickly shoving it into his satchel before Leo could ask what it said. He didn’t want to read it quite yet.

If you asked anybody who knew him personally, of whom there were only a few, they would tell you that Sangwon was decidedly not good at meeting new people. Which is why only a few people actually knew him personally, rather than the dozens upon dozens of students who knew of him.

And it really wasn’t from any glaring fault of his own. He was just painfully awkward at the best of times. Many in his close circle considered it a miracle that he was able to befriend anybody at Hogwarts in the first place, though that was likely due to Leo dragging him along to meet new people.

Nevertheless, he was a great friend once he was finally comfortable with the people around him. It just… took some time to get there.

The point is, though, that Sangwon was quite nervous to read the letter. In the entire week prior, he’d damn nearly worn through his shoes and the carpet of the common room floor with all his pacing.

Looking at it again when safely ensconced behind the walls of his dorm room, the letter remained just as unassuming as it did when delivered earlier in the day. Only now it had a few extra creases from his rough treatment and the press of his textbooks all day.

Worst-case scenario, the guy made fun of him for his obvious nervousness, and he’d change his name, then move to France. It didn’t matter if Leo was right that he couldn’t speak French. At least then, he wouldn’t be able to be found at Hogwarts.

.

.

.

Maybe that was a bit of an extreme reaction. He just wouldn’t reply. That’s the actual worst-case scenario.

Keeping that thought in mind, he carefully broke the seal on the letter, unfurling it so that he could read its contents.

To Lee Sangwon

I know you already know my name, but I still just want to introduce myself. So, as you know, my name is Zhou Anxin. My friends call me Xin. Anyways, I’m a third year at Ilvermorny, so also 13 years old and I was born on Christmas. (Sometimes I get double the presents, sometimes not. Always a fun surprise. But man, it's hard to celebrate my birthday WITH my friends.)

Sangwon blinked in surprise, feeling very slightly drained at the energy he was getting from this guy’s writing alone. He’d probably be exhausted within 5 minutes of meeting him in person. But… he didn’t seem like he cared about Sangwon’s nervousness. Maybe it just wasn’t as apparent as he thought. It looked like Anxin, or Xin, rambled just as much as he did, if not more.

Are there many other Koreans at Hogwarts? Because there’s a LOT of foreigners, mainly Chinese, at Ilvermorny. That’s me. I’m one of them. Born in Shanghai, and then, for some reason, came to good old Massachusetts for school. Honestly, just kind of glad they accepted me. There are no major wizarding schools in China. What a shame, am I right?

But then, if there was, I wouldn’t be pen pals with you, now would I? (Wink, wink)

He couldn’t help the quiet laugh that came out after he read that. There was just something about his writing that was so… endearing? It was unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome.

Also, you take Care of Magical Creatures, too? We should compare notes. That’s one of my elective classes this year. We probably study different creatures (due to the different continents thing), but that’s just what makes it cooler, right?

That had him sitting up straight. If there was one thing that could get Sangwon to break out of his shell, it was magical creatures. Animals were a lot simpler than people after all, and he’d nurtured a fondness for the fauna of the magical world since he was a child.

But I do have to ask, how do you like Study of Ancient Runes? That only sounds marginally better than History of Magic. Which is not a very high bar, mind you.

You’re absolutely right, by the way. No idea what a Hufflepuff is. Now, I’m going to assume it’s one of the houses at Hogwarts. At Ilvermorny, we have 4 houses. Thunderbird. Wampus. Horned Serpent. And Pukwudgie. I’m a Thunderbird (the best one). Apparently, it represents my soul and favours adventurers. Something like that.

“Something like that he says,” Sangwon muttered. “Seems right up his alley – confident, bold, outgoing.”

What else is there to say about me? Oh, I play Quidditch. Keeper position. Still not really sure if it’s for me (not really the sporty type), but I do like flying, I guess. And my house really needed a Keeper.

Actually, wait. I have two questions about Hogwarts. Is it true that you have a ghost as a teacher? And the staircases move? How do you get anywhere? I think I’d get lost immediately.

Okay, this is quite a long letter. I’ve nearly finished this page of parchment. Hope it didn’t seem like I was rambling too much. I’m really not that much better than you. I just don’t have a filter. You should do the same. Not have a filter, I mean. Be comfortable. Don’t worry too much when you reply. I’m sure I’ll enjoy reading it.

‘Oh, ’ he thought, drawing his knees up to his chest. ‘He could tell I was really nervous after all.’ That familiar sense of self-consciousness rushed through him, and it was all he could do to keep tears from pricking at the corner of his eyes. ‘Stop worrying so much. He didn’t seem to mind.’

Talk soon,

Anxin (Xin)

P.S. If I were ACTUALLY talking to you, not just writing via owl, I would totally have asked you to demonstrate a dance. That’s so cool.

The letter fell out of his limp fingers onto the bed. Anxin seemed like he genuinely enjoyed reading his awkward letter. Which he knew was awkward because he’d shown Leo before he gave it to one of the new designated pen pal owls. While he hadn’t laughed, Leo wore his heart on his sleeve – it was quite obvious what he was thinking.

Before Sangwon knew it, he’d sat down at his desk, pulling out a fresh sheet of parchment paper and a pot of ink. And…

Nothing.

It was just a repeat of last time. Except this time, it wasn’t that his mind was as blank as the parchment in front of him, but rather, he was hesitating. Anxin felt like someone safe. He had no connection to Hogwarts, to the UK or to his family. There was no pressure to keep up this perfect golden boy façade that his family constantly asked for. Because he wasn’t.

He didn’t understand why he felt like it was okay to drop the mask with Anxin. He’d never met the guy and had only written to him once!

But the need to be perfect was so ingrained into him that even though he desperately wished to show Anxin something beyond that, it just wouldn’t come out. He couldn’t let himself reveal those imperfections in his next letter. This time, he’d make sure to hide his nervousness, keeping it in obscurity. So, he kept that curated façade up as he wrote, painstakingly making sure that each curve, line and dot revealed something acceptable about him.

***

To Anxin

Thank you for the reply. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be calling you Xin, so I’m just going to call you Anxin right now. I already guessed that you were 13 like me, as I’d guessed that our schools wanted to keep this program between same-age students. So that it would be easier for them to be friends. Though you being born on Christmas Day is quite surprising. You must’ve been a Christmas miracle for your parents.

There are quite a lot of other Koreans also at Hogwarts, yes. And some other ethnicities. There’s a handful of Japanese students and some others as well, like Taiwanese. Still mostly Europeans, though. What is it like living in Massachusetts compared to Shanghai? I imagine they are very different places and cultures.

I would love to compare any notes you have on Care of Magical Creatures. I feel as though I’ve nearly exhausted my library’s supply of magizoology and herbology books. Learning about creatures native to other places sounds amazing.

And Study of Ancient Runes is quite fascinating, actually. Seeing how we wrote in the past. The etymology behind certain spells. It’s helped me with some of my other classes on occasion. I would also like to disagree with your point about the History of Magic. It’s not that bad either. Just often taught in a less-than-ideal manner.

About the Hogwarts houses, though. There are likewise four of them. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Each one is named after the founders of Hogwarts and represents their ideals. Gryffindor for courage and chivalry. Ravenclaw for wit and learning. Hufflepuff for loyalty and hard work. And Slytherin for cunning and ambition. And as I mentioned in my previous letter, I’m a Hufflepuff. Obviously, I don’t really know you, but it seems like your house fits you very well. What do the other houses represent?

You must be very good at Quidditch if you’re the Keeper for your team despite not being an athletic person. Perhaps even more so, considering that they asked you while they try to find a new candidate for the position.

And yes, we do actually have a ghost for a teacher at Hogwarts. Professor Bathilda Bagshot. She just continued to teach after she died. Actually, she did retire for a few years, but then was reinstated when our new professor left. The consensus is that she’s rather boring, though I maintain that a ghost for a teacher is very helpful in a subject like a History of Magic.

The staircases also do, in fact, move. It was rather confusing when I first arrived, but I’m a lot better at navigating now. There are usually multiple pathways that can be taken. If not, just wait for the staircase to return to where you need it to be. Not advised though, as it can take quite some time on occasion.

Again, if you have any questions, please ask them.

Reply when you can,

Lee Sangwon

P.S. It did not seem like you were rambling too much.

This time, Anxin should not be able to pick up any hints of his nerves. Sangwon resolved to retain this distance from who he truly was next time he wrote, calling on the image he’s been presenting to the school since the day he first arrived.

Would it really be so bad if he let down his walls? Let Anxin read between the lines in a way that nobody else did?

The small image of the Thunderbird on the Ilvermorny seal didn’t reply. Its wax eyes merely continued to look in his general direction, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that it saw something that it wasn’t supposed to.

The scroll ended up carefully placed in the bottom drawer of his bedside table, rolled up and out of sight.

Chapter Text

Anxin had read the most recent letter several times over, yet nothing changed. An uncomfortable feeling ate away at his chest the more he scanned the lines. There was something so stilted and unnatural about Sangwon’s wording. It was so at odds with the slightly fumbling, adorable way that the other boy had written 3 weeks prior.

Maybe he was just going crazy. After all, he ticked all the boxes of a pen pal. Anxin probably couldn’t ask for someone better. Sangwon was polite, replied seemingly as fast as he could, and was a fascinating person altogether. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

He glanced at the words again. The tone. It was too formal. Too... careful. Where there were moments of someone who was just another teenager, if a little bit awkward, now had the polar opposite. It didn’t sound real anymore. No, it was more proper. More polished.

Anxin wasn’t sure if that was a bad thing. Maybe it wasn’t. But it felt weird, like a change he hadn’t been expecting. And it rubbed him the wrong way.

He sighed and rolled up the letter, rubbing his temples.

"I’m just overthinking. Like I always do," he muttered to himself, but it did nothing to rid him of the discomfort he felt.

"What's up, Xin?" His roommate’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Boheng had entered the room without a sound, standing at the doorway with a curious expression.

“Boheng,” Anxin said, shaking his head as he fiddled with the letter a bit before placing it to the side to avoid crumpling it. “Can you read this? I don’t know if I’m going crazy or if this guy just sounds off.”

He raised an eyebrow and stepped further into the room. “What is it? Let me see.” He took the letter and read through it, scanning the lines slowly. Anxin leaned on his chair’s back legs, watching his friend’s expression carefully.

“Okay,” Boheng said, handing it back. “Honestly? I don’t get it. Sounds like a normal pen pal letter to me. Why’d you think otherwise?

“I don’t know,” Anxin sighed. “It’s just… it feels too perfect, you know? Like he’s trying too hard to be… put together, I guess? It’s just not really how he wrote last time.”

His friend shrugged, unbothered. “Maybe he’s just adjusting to the whole pen-pal thing. You said it was a bit awkward before, right? Maybe he’s trying to sound less... ‘rambly.’” He glanced pointedly at Anxin, clearly thinking of his earlier words.

Which was unfair. In fact, he specifically said that he’d enjoy reading it regardless of whether it was more rambling than anything else. He’d intended to help Sangwon feel a little bit more comfortable, but evidently, that kind of backfired.

Anxin frowned. “Maybe... but I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel like it matches with my perception of him from the first letter.”

"Yeah, well, it was one letter," Boheng reasoned, sitting down on the edge of Anxin’s bed. "You can’t really say that you know a guy from meeting a guy once. If you even count this as meeting him."

“Yeah, I know. But still.” Anxin chewed on his lip, glancing at the letter again.

Looking at his obvious worry, Boheng’s expression softened just a bit. “You’re overthinking, Xin. You’re always overthinking.”

“Yeah, well... maybe I have reason to.” Anxin let out a shaky breath. “Maybe something happened, you know? I just can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t normal. It’s my gut feeling.”

"You’ll figure it out,” he said, leaning back and crossing his arms. “If anything’s weird, you’ll know. From what I read... It’s just a normal letter. But at the end of the day, he’s your pen pal. Trust your instincts, I guess.”

Anxin sighed, feeling a little lighter, but still not fully convinced. “Yeah. That’s worked out great for me before. Thanks, Bo-ge.”

Books in hand, Boheng gave him a wave as he headed out the door. Probably going to the library. “Anytime, Keeper.”

Anxin watched his friend leave, then turned back to the letter. His fingers hovered over it for a second before he finally picked it up again. Maybe it wasn’t as big a deal as he was making it. But still, the doubt lingered like spilled ink on his uniform.

Between last-minute homework, endless Quidditch practices, and an unfortunate biological need to sleep after said practice, there had been no time to start penning a reply to Sangwon until all his classes finished on Friday. Classes, in which every little thing seemed to somehow go wrong.

It was already late afternoon by the time Anxin was finally able to return to the comfort of his dorm room. Exhausted, annoyed and in need of an outlet that wasn’t at the school, he didn’t hesitate to grab a piece of parchment.

Hey Sangwon

We’re sort of friends now, right? (I mean, that’s kind of the point of this, but still.) So, I hope you don’t mind if I use this letter as a bit of a ranting space. Really don’t feel like talking to my other friends about this again because they always say the same thing when I just need someone to listen sometimes.

I don’t understand how school only started like, 2 or 3 weeks ago, and I’m already drowning in work. There should not be this much of a jump between workload in the second year and the third year, yet somehow, there is. It just doesn’t make sense. If it keeps up any longer, I’m going to start falling behind in my classes. I even messed up a spell today in DADA that I learnt in first year!

And I’m meant to be top of the class!

Of course, the obvious course of action is to join my friends in the library to study and do homework together. Which I would do. If it wasn’t for the fact that my Quidditch captain has been scheduling practice basically every day! I get that she doesn’t need amazing grades for her career path when she graduates this year, but I mean. Come on! Contrary to popular opinion, I would actually like to do well! Argh!

Because I have to stay up late to finish my homework as well now, I even fell asleep in Transfiguration today. Professor Kim, normally one of my favourite teachers, who knew how many Quidditch practices were being scheduled and thus preventing me from working, gave me a detention. I had to stay back for an extra hour after class ended before going to do anything. And I’m just like, really? This day could not get any worse.

Let me give you a rundown of today.

1. One of the first years tripped and spilled orange juice all over my uniform, so I had to go get changed. I didn’t get to finish my breakfast and was nearly late to class because of it.
2. The first period was Care of Magical Creatures. My Jarvey decided today would be a great day to just not shut up. And if there’s anything to know about a Jarvey, it is that while they can speak our language, they will literally only insult you. How fun.
3. Fun times. I found a crack in my cauldron. Which means no more practicals until I can get a new one. I was going to borrow one from the school, but they’re all unavailable right now as extras for the seventh years.
4. DADA – you already know how that turned out.
5. Arithmancy – I forgot my Numerology and Grammatica textbook and had to share with someone else. Somehow, the least bad part of my day.
6. Transfiguration – again, you know how that went.

See? Horrible! And most of the time, if I complain to my friends, they just say I should be more organised. I’m plenty organised.

Anyways.

Thanks for your last letter, by the way. I haven’t really mentioned it, so I’ll at least answer your questions.

Not quite sure it should be considered a Christmas miracle when that means that my mum spent Christmas in the hospital. But sure.

If there’s one thing I miss about Shanghai, it’s the night markets. They just don’t really seem to happen here in Massachusetts. My parents used to take me all the time when I was a kid. I’d normally wake up with a stomachache the next day because I ate too much food, no matter how much my parents tried to limit me. My grandparents love to spoil their grandchildren rotten after all.  

Oh, and the other houses. Right. Wampus represent the body and favour warriors. Horned Serpent represents the mind and favours scholars. A bit similar to Ravenclaw, then I guess. And Pukwudgie represents the heart, favouring healers.

Hope that answers all your questions. And sorry about the rant.

Talk soon,

Xin

P.S. Sorry for the rant (again). Hope you don’t mind the chaos. I promise next time I’ll keep it less...dramatic.

It was strangely cathartic, just putting everything down onto the page like that. He’d written what felt like a small, honest piece of himself, venting frustrations he didn’t know how to work through otherwise.

The only anxiety came from whether Anxin was overstepping any invisible boundaries with this letter that would cause Sangwon to retreat further into himself.

Shaking himself out of those thoughts, he quickly sealed the letter, heading out to the owlery.

By the time he began making his way back to the dorm, a chill had begun to set in. The afternoon air was crisp, the kind of chilly breeze that made students hesitate to go outside. There was a solace to be found in being alone outside, one that Anxin took full advantage of while he could. Something crunched underfoot, and he looked down to find a small scattering of fallen leaves.

As expected, when he peered into the trees above him, some of the green had changed to reveal small flashes of gold, amber, and scarlet.

Each one was like a tiny flickering flame.

***

Returning to the dormitories after a surprise visit from his father to ‘check on the recent donation project’, Sangwon opened the door to find a scroll sitting open on his bed. He must’ve left it sitting there when he rushed out earlier in the day, desperate not to be late. That would be one more thing for his father to pick apart. Frankly, all he wanted to do was to go to sleep, forgetting about the way his hands still shook slightly after his father’s subtle probing questions.

Groaning, he slumped onto his bed, head hanging low. The sight of Anxin’s familiar scrawl at the top of the page next to him did more to calm him than an entire hour spent in the Room of Requirement to just breathe did. Not that Sangwon had been re-reading the first letter he’d received or anything. No, he’d just been blessed with an above-average memory.

Anxin…

How absurd. After only one letter, his heart had already decided that this boy, this stranger, was a source of comfort? But try as he might, there was no helping the way that his fingers itched to reach for the letter again.

The other boy was everything Sangwon wasn’t. Happy. Adventurous. Honest. Free.

Everything Sangwon wanted to be.

Anxin was allowed to make mistakes. Have bad days. Lose control. The carefree words on the page only made him more aware of how far removed he was from that kind of freedom.

Just one day, one moment even, where he didn’t have to be perfect. That was all Sangwon asked for. He just wanted to breathe.

“You know how important it is to keep up appearances, Sangwon. Your grades. Your behaviour. Your reputation. Our family name depends on it.”

His father’s voice echoed, loud enough for him to think that he hadn’t escaped for the day. He hated how every syllable felt like it had carved a place in his chest, weighing him down.

***

When Professor Baek had come up to his desk during DADA to inform him that he’d been summoned to the headmaster’s office, it had been as if everything disappeared. Leaving the classroom, walking the halls, knocking on the headmaster’s door – he had no recollection of any of that. Just a well-worn track of anxiety running through his mind about what he did wrong and what might happen if his family received word of it. All his senses came rushing back fast enough to give him whiplash as soon as he had seen his father on the other side of the door.

Dressed in a black turtleneck, slacks, a grey coat, and not a hair out of place, he had looked exactly as he did every day for as long as Sangwon could remember.

Perfect.

(Unwelcoming)

His heart had become stuck in his throat, barely able to breathe.

Even the empty smile that his father wore as a mask hadn’t changed. “Sangwon, it’s good to see you, son.”

Forcing himself to reply, Sangwon had felt as if his mouth had turned to sandpaper. “You too, father. May I ask what you are doing here? Or why was I called to this office?”

The smile never wavered. “Ah, of course. I was just popping in to see how the newest wing of the library was coming along. After all, I did donate to it. And your headmaster has been gracious enough to allow me to see my favourite son.”

The next few minutes of conversation had been a blur – thanking the headmaster, shaking hands, watching silently as the headmaster excused himself so that they could have some ‘family time’ – and then the door shut with a quiet thud.

In an instant, his father’s mask had dropped, and Sangwon wrapped his own tighter around himself, praying that he wouldn’t be asked about his grades.  

Heavens forbid how his father might react if he knew that his son was getting an E in any classes. Or worse, his A in DADA.

It was only a matter of time.

“How are your grades so far this year, Sangwon?”

“O in Charms, Herbology, Potions and Care of Magical Creatures.”

“Acceptable. Remember not to become complacent. I wonder, though, why you did not list your other subjects.”

Sangwon hesitated, just long enough for his father’s glare to sharpen. “I, uh... didn’t get an O. An E in Astronomy, History of Magic, Transfiguration, and Study of Ancient Runes. And…” His voice faltered for a moment too long. His father’s eyes narrowed. “An A in Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

Silence fell, weighing down the room.

“Excuse me? An A? I can perhaps dismiss an E, but an A is unacceptable, Sangwon. You carry our family’s name with you in everything you do. Don’t you understand that?”

“Of course, I understand, father! I'm just still adjusting to the increased workload. My extracurriculars have been taking up more time, and the Ilvermorny pen pal project has been demanding, too. I haven't had time to-"

A sharp slap echoed through the room, the sting of it searing his cheek. Sangwon had kept his face still, refusing to react lest he give his father any satisfaction.

“Excuses. It’s always an excuse with you. If you cannot be perfect, you will drag yourself and our whole family down. You could’ve done better if you’d focused. If you’d been more organised. Enough is enough, boy. I’ll look into arranging a tutor for you. You’ll need it if you want to keep up. That is all.”

Just like that, he was dismissed. Like a house elf, cast aside as if he were nothing more than an inconvenience.

That was all he ever seemed to be to his father. An obstacle to his own perfection, a headache that never went away.

***

There it was – every thought, every moment. His imperfections were written plain as day on a piece of parchment addressed to a stranger across the ocean. Written in a desperate need for someone to finally look beyond the façade. There was no certainty, only the ache of vulnerability and the half-hope that, somewhere, far from the suffocating perfection Hogwarts had become, someone would understand. The one person who would not see it as the fall of the golden boy.

A breathless laugh broke free, soon filling the room with sound even as tears dropped onto the page, smearing the ink.

Oh, if only people could see him now. If only his father could. Half delirious, a complete mess, and ink staining his fingers from his writing. His father would probably throw a fit if he saw the mess that his handwriting was then.

It was as if he’d been possessed while writing.

Everything inside of him warred; his mind told him to burn it so that nobody could see this moment of weakness, but his heart screamed louder. Screaming with a voice full of pain, sorrow and longing for someone else to hear it.

His heart had been bleeding for too long because of his family’s cutting demands. It just wanted someone who could heal it, protect it from more harm.

His heart was tired. Sangwon was tired. Unable to bring himself to throw away the parchment that held his most honest moment and self.

He didn’t want to keep building walls shakily held together by quiet obedience and learnt silence, pretending that the demands weren’t pushing through the cracks to strike at him. The quill trembled in his grip as he forced himself to finish, scrawling out the last of his feelings to Anxin before the courage faded.

The silence in the dormitory pressed on him, thick and close, broken only by the muffled shouts and laughter echoing down the corridor. Voices that seemed to belong to another world entirely. He stared at the candlelight flickering over the ink stains, wondering what Anxin would say.

Would he scorn him, like so many before?

Or would he understand what it meant to be so impossibly lonely, to feel as though you had no place except in the margins of someone else’s story?

Nobody ever bothered to understand before. Simply viewing the surface. But with the second letter from Anxin also being placed in the drawer of his bedside table, hope bloomed. That there was someone waiting to read what he could never say aloud.

Chapter Text

Despite experiencing it every year, it was always hard to acclimatise to the loneliness that came with school breaks at Hogwarts. It brought a silence that was unlike what he would have experienced at home - the kind that was so oppressive he would almost choke on it. No, this silence was one that made everything echo back at Sangwon, for there was nowhere else to go. 

He expected it, of course - his parents never had time for him, even during Christmas - but that didn't mean it didn't hurt any less.

This year, though, it hurt differently. Sharper, somehow, with the absence of regular letters threading through every quiet moment.

In the hush of the deserted dormitories, he wandered the familiar halls, greeting the portraits occasionally when they weren’t wrapped up in conversation with each other. How absurd, that paintings could have a better social life than he. 

Sometimes, in the quiet, all he could think about was the reply he received after his father visited was free of judgment. There was nothing saying that he should have been stronger. That his father was right. That he could manage it. Only acceptance and understanding, now forever memorialised on the parchment.

That letter was still folded neatly under his pillow, worn soft at the edges from being reread too many times.

He had wanted to build up his walls again, hiding behind the familiarity of forced perfection despite the distance it would bring. But somehow, someway, Anxin refused to let that happen - every letter gently wrung secrets out of him. Insecurities, fears, and everything else his family hated. And somewhere along the way, the other boy turned from a stranger to a friend. Different from any other he had. The days seemed to stretch longer without their regular exchanges.

Honestly, it scared Sangwon sometimes to realise just how much he’d grown to rely on the other boy in recent months. It made the isolation of the dormitories now that much harder to deal with. 

He desperately clung to the growing pile of Anxin’s words, each phrase a lifeline that broke through the monotony. Occasionally, he wondered if his own confessions had been too much. If he’d entrust too much of himself to the page during stolen moments. But he tried not to let himself spiral, instead reminding himself of Ilvermorny’s own break coinciding with Hogwarts. That Anxin would not ignore him. He was just unable to write.

Still, he found himself instinctively checking the owlery every morning. Just in case.

The day when both of their schools would return to their regular routines could not come fast enough. He had even started drafting a letter he couldn't send yet. A list of things he wanted to say, from the mundane to the deeply personal. The kind of list he’d never dared to make before Anxin crashed into his life.

If only there were a way that he could talk, really talk, to the boy who had taken over his mind.

***

Sangwon had always found solace in the silence of the Great Lake. Too far south of the castle for most students to bother walking to, and a constant veil of silver mist clung to the edges, blurring the line between the water and the sky. Since first year, it was an escape from prying eyes in the dormitories and corridors. After all, there was only so much privacy to be found in a room that he shared with three other boys. 

Nobody knew that he often came here. Not even Leo. 

He wasn't even sure if anyone ever realised that he would occasionally just disappear. Nobody ever commented. That just showed how everyone truly viewed him - an ideal and commodity, not an actual person they cared about.

Either way, the lake was a sanctuary for him, even if the quiet wasn't all that different from the quiet in the castle. 

He wondered if Anxin would like it here. The quiet, the fog, the soft sloshing of water against the shore. Somehow, he thought he would.

Sometimes he'd just sit there, staring at his reflection. Sometimes he'd skip rocks, pretending that each one held a thought that he wanted to be rid of. And sometimes he'd scream, letting the water absorb everything. 

But as he sat there today, thinking about the number of days left before the rest of Hogwarts returned, something caught his eye. It was a flicker of movement, just at the edge of the water, where the mist lingered thickest.

At first, he thought it was a trick of the light, a shadow cast by the tall trees nearby or a rare ripple on the surface of the lake. But as he cautiously approached, his heart skipped a beat.

Lying just beyond the water's edge was a flying seahorse, looking around with wide, frantic eyes. 

It was small, no bigger than a rabbit. A young one then. But it was its wings - delicate and gossamer-like - that made his breath catch in his throat. It looked like it had been caught mid-flight, the injury apparent in the jagged, dark burn marks that marred its once-beautiful wings. It likely fell onto it, for the thin appendages were twisted unnaturally. 

He swallowed hard. No one else would be out here, not even on a normal day. Sangwon knew he should get help, find one of the professors who had stayed behind to supervise. Someone who would know what to do. 

It was irrational, he knew. He wasn’t a healer. He certainly was not someone who should be dealing with an injured creature. But something in him refused to walk away. It felt like a betrayal to leave it lying there in pain. It was foolish to see a little of himself in the injured creature. Even more so to wonder, absurdly, what Anxin might say if he wrote about this – crouched in the mud, trying to whisper comfort to something small and hurting. Would he tease him gently? Tell him it was reckless, then ask for every detail anyway?

He crouched down slowly, cautiously, as its eyes met his. The creature’s breath was laboured, but it turned its head slightly towards him, as if reaching for his hand.

“Shh… It’s okay. I won’t hurt you. I just want to help.” Sangwon murmured, unsure if the creature would even understand the gesture, but needing to offer whatever comfort he could. His fingers twitched, the urge to help swelling inside him, despite the uncertainty gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. The creature stirred again, this time letting out a soft whimper, as though it had heard his vow. He wasn’t sure if it was the creature’s quiet cry or his own deep sense of isolation, but he couldn’t just leave it here to suffer. 

Even if he didn’t know how, he had to help.

***

With a bit of effort, he’d managed to eventually bring down his cauldron and most of his potion ingredients. He’d just have to make sure that he went to Hogsmeade to buy replacements so nobody would be suspicious. Care of unregistered animals was against the school’s rules and could result in consequences that he didn’t want to think about right now.

The flying seahorse was, of course, exactly where he left it, within the shallows to prevent its dull red scales from becoming dehydrated.

“Hi… I’m back. I’m going to help you, okay? Is that okay?”

No reply, but that was a given. He was talking to an animal after all. Even so, there seemed to be a flicker of understanding flashing through its black eyes.

Slowly, he reached out to pet its muzzle. Hopefully, this would distract it from the fact that he was about to set its wing straight. He braced himself, drawing a careful breath, and gently pressed his palm to the soft scales, feeling the faint thrumming of the creature’s heart beneath his fingertips.

With one quick movement, he grabbed the wing and twisted it the other way, cringing as the creature screamed at his touch.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I promise. Just let me…”

Grabbing the stick, which he had used to make the potions he was about to give the seahorse, he secured it to the wing. Surely that would be good enough to function as a splint, keeping it from worsening the creature’s condition.

For now, though, Sangwon focused on the task at hand, murmuring soft reassurances as he worked. A litany of salves and potions lay in front of him.

Treating burns.

Cleaning wounds.

Healing salves.

Anything that he could think of and had the ingredients for, he made.

By sunset, the flying seahorse’s scales had regained their shine, slowly becoming a brilliant crimson, and its breathing levelled out, chest rising in falling in a steady rhythm. He sat down next to it, wiping his hands on his jeans. There was a fragile sense of accomplishment mingling with the exhaustion, one that he hadn’t felt before.

He had been enough.

The seahorse was resting peacefully now in the lake, so at odds with how he found it. It would still be weeks before it’d be able to leave this lake and return to its home. Except his weak heart still would not allow him to simply abandon it.

After all, it was far from home, in an unfamiliar environment, and still weak. The best thing for the poor creature to do would be to rest and recuperate, rather than struggling to survive.

Looks like he’d be taking care of it for the foreseeable future.

‘At least,’ he thought to himself as he walked back towards the castle, already making a mental shopping list in his head, ‘I’ll finally have an interesting story to write to Anxin about when he returns to Ilvermorny.’

***

So, deciding to go to Hogsmeade the next day, when winter was now in full swing, may have been a bad idea. Sangwon should have realised that a perpetually icy town would get increasingly worse during the coldest months of the year. Hindsight 20/20 and all that.

Too late for any regrets now, though, because he had already trudged through knee-high snow in the main village, hauling behind him large bags full of potion ingredients and food that his textbook said was good for flying seahorses.

It was only because of a sudden pick up in the wind strength that forced him into the small shop on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Just an unassuming house with a faded green sign saying, ‘Stitches and Draughts.’

In all honesty, he’d rather not have come in here, considering that it always looked a bit… haunted.

“Hello?”

Startled, he turned around to find a lady with greying hair emerging from a back room, laugh lines evident of a much-enjoyed life or kind spirit. Perhaps even both.

“Oh, hello. Sorry, I hope I’m not intruding or anything. I was on my way back to Hogwarts when the wind picked up. I thought it’d be best to take refuge until I could see the next step in front of me again. Is that alright?”

“Oh yes, of course. You can have a look around while you’re here. We don’t get too many customers when the school is on its breaks. Would you like anything warm to drink, dearie?”

“No, I’m fine, but thank you for the offer. I would hate to bother you. I’ll just have a look around while I wait.”

“If you say so. I’ll just be at the counter if you need anything.”

He nodded again in thanks and began to wander through the store. It had a little bit of everything. From stools to children’s toys, and brooms to coats. He thinks he even spotted a few old tomes hidden somewhere among the organised chaos that he’d have to come back for another day when he had the free space on his shelf. This shop was truly a hidden gem, and he regretted not checking it out earlier.

When the wind had finally died down enough for the castle to be visible from Hogsmeade again, Sangwon was preparing to leave when something caught his eye.

“Excuse me, how much does this cost?

“That? If you want it, I’ll give it to you for free. You’d make better use of it than I would.”

“No, I couldn’t possibly. I heard that they’re really expensive.”

“I insist. Take it. Pay me back by visiting from time to time, okay? You’ll thank me for it one day.”

No matter how much he tried to argue, the elderly shop owner would not let him pay. Eventually, he had to give up, or he would be walking back with everything he bought in the dark. In the end, he left with as much money as he came in with and a promise to return every Hogsmeade trip.

He couldn’t wait to tell Anxin about this place. About the flying seahorse, the strange kindness, and the woman who seemed to know exactly what he needed. Hopefully, their stories of the break would be the easiest ones that they shared yet.

That was, of course, if Anxin liked the fragile package now clutched tightly to his chest.

Chapter Text

Despite having lived in America for a little over three years now, the journey through Massachusetts back to his family’s house in Cambridge always made Anxin feel a little out of place. He hadn’t actually lived here properly like the rest of his family. Instead of exploring and familiarising himself with a new country, he’d hidden behind the veils of magic surrounding his new school, which did little to acclimatise him to America. Even his house didn’t always feel like home. After all, when the Zhou family first moved here from Shanghai, he was set to enrol in Ilvermorny about two months later. Unsurprisingly, spending more time in a dorm room than his own was not conducive to making him feel at home.

Nevertheless, the clamour and chaos of school couldn't compare to what he eagerly awaited at home. He wasn't the social butterfly Zhou Anxin there. He was just… Xin-ge. And Xin-ge fit. There was no worrying about who would put him first because that's just what family did.

So his house didn't feel like home anymore. But gods, his family would always feel that way for him.

Watchful but warm eyes that saw the rotten parts of his soul. All-encompassing, that would draw him into a protective embrace since childhood, accepting his faults. Hearts that had a space carved into them just got him. 

Unconditional.

Unfamiliar streets but familiar feelings greeted Anxin as he stepped out of the train station to find his father waiting for him, unable to help the small smile that started to bloom on his lips. 

Time truly had treated his father well. 

Even with the hunch forming along his back, his father still seemed to hold himself tall, as if filled with pride upon seeing his eldest son. In his eyes, a familiar shine was visible, constantly looking at the world as if it were a treasure box. Exactly as he was looking at Anxin right now. As if his father knew how hard he had worked during the past term and was already seeing the fruits of that labour emerge before anyone else. Upon seeing that again, a nostalgic feeling of garden exploration and failed baking experiments resurfaced, reminding him of how he would watch fondly as his son grew. His chest tightened, suddenly missing the quiet connection of his family when presented with it again. It made him want to hold onto this fleeting piece of time until he would have to leave again.

There was no dramatic reunion when his father greeted him. Just quiet comfort in the form of a firm hug and soft murmurs of how much he’d grown. He let himself relax, as if the ever-present cedarwood scent of his father’s cologne soothed him.

As they wound through the maze of Cambridge’s streets, chatting about school, friends, family and everything in between, Anxin occasionally caught himself making mental notes to write about something that caught his attention about Sangwon. Just small details and oddities – the snowman whose features were comically exaggerated that was being built in park by a group of toddlers, the smell of cinnamon wafting out of a bakery making him crave food from Shanghai’s street vendors, the story of his younger brother and father’s attempts at cooking an “extra crispy” chicken that resulted in more laughter than dinner. It was never anything of consequence, but the little stories were something to offer Sangwon, a distraction from the loneliness that Anxin somehow knew was gnawing at his friend’s heart.

While no story would be able to be shared while he was home for the break, as they didn’t have an owl – something he almost regretted in the moment, but he loved their cat too much for that thought to truly come to mind – upon returning to Ilvermorny, he’d make sure to have something new and bright to offer. Stories to peel away any darkness for Sangwon with a patchwork of chaos and nostalgia.

He continued like that the entire drive home – half a mind present in the car and half a mind cast across the sea – not even realising when their street came into view. It was only when he heard his father mutter a foreign spell under his breath, turning them straight into a pocket of magic that he knew No-Majs would never notice. 

“I always forget that we reused this disguise spell even after we left China,” Anxin said, amusement evident in his voice.

“Well, we have to keep a little bit of home with us somehow, don’t we?”

“You say that as if Mama never cooks Chinese food anymore.”

His father laughed, bringing the car to a stop, “Only because she decided the food here in America was too salty and not good for growing boys like you and your brother.”

Shuddering at the thought, Anxin quickly got out to grab his bags, continuing the conversation as he went. “I think we ended up getting the short end of the stick, though. Nobody should have to eat that many vegetables.”

Inside, the familiar clutter of shoes by the door and lingering aroma of ginger and soy sauce instantly grounded him. It wrapped around him, ridding him of the world outside until all that was left was the familiar warmth of home settling over him. He hadn’t realised how much he needed this break. How much he missed it.

“I’m home,” he called out, shutting the door behind his father. No sooner had the words left his mouth than footsteps came rushing closer. He hadn’t even had the chance to put his slippers on when a small body crashed into his, knocking the air out of his lungs.

“Ge! You’re home!”

His little brother, Jingyi, grinned up at him, showcasing a gap between his teeth that wasn’t present the last time he saw him. Suddenly, his lack of air wasn’t because of the hug, but because of the reminder of how much he was missing while staying at Ilvermorny. Shaking his head to clear those thoughts, he returned the embrace, ruffling his brother’s hair. It would do more harm than good to ruminate on that topic. Besides, it was a natural part of growing up anyway.

That’s what he would keep telling himself, at least.

“Yep, I’m back for a few weeks. I get to stay with you and your mischief. But first… don’t you think you’re hugging me a bit too tight, di?”

As if to prove his point about being mischievous being right, the hug just got tighter. Just when he was about to pull his brother off him for fear of obtaining broken ribs, his mother walked in.

“That’s enough, Jingyi. We don’t want your brother to suffocate when he has only just got back.”

At her chiding tone, Jingyi pulled away sheepishly, already running back to whatever activity he was doing prior. She watched him leave, shaking her head in amusement before turning to him with a soft expression.

“Welcome home, Anxin,” she said as she too pulled him into a hug. Feeling himself relax, he returned the embrace, whispering, “I’m glad to be back, Mama.”

When they pulled away, his mother told him to rest up before dinner, as there was no doubt that Jingyi would monopolise his time afterwards. Doing as she said, Anxin hauled his bags up the stairs and into his room. Every time he returned, it felt like stepping into a time capsule.

Glow-in-the-dark stars were still haphazardly stuck to his ceiling from his brief dream of wanting to study Astronomy. Albums from all his favourite artists lined his shelves more than books did, a suspicious lack of dust indicating yet another thing to thank his mother for later. Bright patterns and images painted onto the wall, just like they had been in his room in Shanghai. He never did quite get it right.

There was almost a sense of disconnect that came with walking into his room. It was a shock to his senses to see a room so wholly representing him. Strict dorm policies and roommates don’t really allow for that. This room did, however, and he couldn’t help the joy that developed when he started unpacking. His two lives seemed like they were coming together.

Near the end of his unpacking, numerous scrolls of parchment were pulled out and set on his desk, innocently waiting to be filled. Once again, his mind drifted to Sangwon, alone, an ocean away. The parchment had been brought to complete the holiday homework from a few of his busier electives. Not for letters. Once again, there was no way for him to send them without an owl. Nevertheless, his hands itched for a quill and ink, wanting to describe everything that he saw on the way home from school.

It was stupid.

Those stories were so mundane that they would make even the most eager History of Magic students become bored. There was nothing of interest. Nothing of worth.

But already, Anxin could imagine Sangwon’s response to receiving glimpses of his everyday life. The idea felt like a small adventure, a thread tying them together even when miles apart. Deliberating for a few moments, eventually he gave in and grabbed one of the parchment papers, unrolling it onto his desk.

He never even ended up unpacking all his luggage.

***

Later that evening, he found himself sitting at the dining table, enjoying the comforting buzz of family conversation. There was a gentle chaos here of food stains on the table, half-finished puzzles pushed to the side, and porcelain flying all around the room.

“How’s that pen pal project going, Xin? You talked about it earlier in the year, but then suddenly stopped mentioning it. Did it stop?” His mother asked, passing him the plate of dumplings.

He looked up in confusion, piling dumplings onto his plate. “Pen pal project? Oh, yes! I forgot it was a pen pal project. And I mentioned it as a side note. We’ve upgraded to friends now.”

“Oh, that’s good. What’s your friend’s name?”

“Sangwon. He’s from Hogwarts.”

His brother piped up, poking his arm, “Ge, ge, ge. What’s Hogwarts?”

“Pay more attention to what we say, Jingyi,” Anxin replied, flicking his brother’s forehead and continuing to talk over Jingyi’s complaints. “It’s a wizarding school like Ilvermorny where I go. Except in Scotland.”

“So, you can’t meet up with each other like normal friends?”

Anxin shrugged, grinning. “Not in person, but we send letters all the time. Sometimes, every week. It’s almost as good as being there. He tells me all about the animals they have. I can tell you about them all later if you want.” Jingyi’s eyes lit up, and he nodded like a bobble head.

His mother smiled, shaking her head fondly. “That’s lovely. I hope you keep it up. Friends like that can last a lifetime.” His brother, of course, tried to use that as a distraction to sneak an extra dumpling from Anxin’s plate, earning a mock glare, though he still relented the dumpling. From then on, dinner continued as it always had – full of shared food and wonder-filled stories.

Later that night, as he was helping his mother with the dishes, she paused in her work to look at him.

“You look happier, Xin. I think that part of it comes from this new friend of yours.”

Anxin ducked his head in slight embarrassment, continuing his work to keep his hands busy and prevent fidgeting. “Yeah, maybe you’re right, Mama. Even if he’s so far away, it doesn’t really feel like it anymore.” He rinsed a plate, the clatter quiet in the sink, and added, “Having someone to share things in my life with, someone outside my usual world, it just makes things brighter. Because I know that he sees me in a different way than what everyone at Ilvermorny does. It’s different. But… a good different.”

His mum smiled, her voice softer as she asked, “Do you ever wish you could see each other for real though?”

“I don’t know.”

***

The question chased him deep into the night. It was as if someone was casting Lumos every time he started to drift off. Did he wish that he could see Sangwon for real? It seemed like such a simple question, with an equally simple answer.

Yes.

We’re friends, why wouldn’t I?

But in reality, it wasn’t. Because he felt like Sangwon’s first choice whenever they wrote to each other.

Making the commitment to writing letters made Anxin feel as if he were one of the most important people in Sangwon’s life. Which may be wrong, because he was aware of Sangwon’s close friends. After all, they had featured in a few of the stories he received. It didn’t change that feeling inside him, though. He’d never been anyone’s first choice.

It was always Boheng and Jack.

Jiahao and Kaiwen.

Suren and Zihao.

Never ‘and Anxin’.

Until Sangwon.

It was probably strange to find comfort and the feeling of finally being chosen, only obtained through letters scribbled a world away. Every envelope Anxin opened was another small proof that someone, somewhere, had thought of him first. Even on days when silence hung heavy, waiting for Sangwon’s reply felt less lonely than he’d ever imagined, knowing that there was someone out there who willingly gave up their time for him.

Their friendship was still so new and fragile, though, that he feared any sudden changes messing it up. If they were to move beyond the letters, would it just reveal to him that Sangwon was just like everyone else and reaffirm what had been a constant in his whole life? Liked by all, loved by none.

He wanted to believe in that special place Sangwon seemed to reserve for him, but doubt had long since taken root in his head. It whispered about whether the letters were just a fleeting novelty, destined to fade as real life and other friendships took precedence. That he was being naïve and setting himself up to be spelled in the back. Still, each envelope felt like proof that, for now at least, Sangwon saw him, and that was more than he'd ever hoped for.

***

Time flew by too fast.

His birthday, and Christmas by extension, came and went. No matter how hard he clung to the warmth of his family, eventually came a time when he had to leave and return to Ilvermorny, where nobody accepted him quite the same.

He returned the same way he left. With hugs from his mother and brother, a conversation-filled car ride with his father, yet another hug, and then a long train ride that he spent staring up at the sky.

Ilvermorny was, of course, bustling with students again when he stepped off, careful not to slip on the snow and ice that had built up in the weeks away. He wove his way through the crowd, greeting other students before they rushed away to hug their friends. That would be him later, but he’d promised himself that he’d send off the letters he wrote over the break as soon as he dropped his bags off in his dorm.

He trekked through the school, heaving his luggage up the stairs before finally reaching the sanctity of his dorm room. A stark lack of half-unpacked clothes immediately told him that Boheng hadn’t arrived back yet. He’d been about to rush out again, scrolls clutched in hand, when his gaze caught on a small package sitting on his desk. One that certainly had not been there when he’d left for the holidays.

Looking around the room, as if the sender would still be there somehow, he approached the desk slowly. There was a small scrap of parchment on top of the package from one of the house elves in the school, telling him that it had arrived for him only a few days ago. But he had no clue who it could be from.

It wouldn’t be from his family, or they would’ve given it to him. It couldn’t be from his friends here at Ilvermorny either, for they would be seeing him today. The only candidate left was Sangwon, but they never sent each other packages. And he certainly couldn’t imagine that Sangwon would be the one to cross that boundary, considering how hard Anxin had to work to get rid of the initial ones.

 Carefully, he untied the string holding the wrapping together, slowly unfolding it to reveal…

A mirror?

Confusion washed through him, and he picked it up to examine it in the light. It seemed so ordinary. Why would someone send him a mirror or all things?

Looking back, it was very lucky that Anxin placed the mirror back down onto the desk when he did, as he would’ve undoubtedly dropped it. For no sooner than he’d done so, than an unfamiliar face that was certainly not his appeared. 

Chapter Text

As he would constantly defend himself whenever this moment got brought up in the months to come, Anxin thought he reacted in a very reasonable way. Which involved nearly throwing the mirror on the floor, but then he remembered that shattering a mirror was bad luck. As a last resort, he began to pray to any gods that were listening to save him.

“Please, I'll apologise to my brother for hiding his pacifier when he was a baby and to my parents for any tantrums I threw as a kid and to Hao-ge for nearly turning his hair grey in Transfiguration that one time and-”

Before he could continue his frantic prayers, the incredulous voice of the figure in the mirror cut him off.

“You did what? Anxin?”

“Nope. Nopenopenopenopenopenopenope. How in Merlin's name does the mirror know my name? That's it. I've somehow completely lost it.”

The figure in the mirror quirked an eyebrow, saying, “You do realise that I can hear everything that you’re saying, right?” Somehow, it managed to look both amused and a little exasperated.

Anxin froze, hand hovering nervously over his wand, ready to draw it at a moment’s notice. “I’ve got it! I received a cursed mirror. That’s got to be it. This is not happening,” he muttered, screwing his eyes shut. Slowly, he peeked out at the mirror again, half-hoping the face had vanished. But it remained, watching him with a bemused expression. “Are you a ghost? A curse? Or wait, am I dreaming?” he asked, pinching himself to make sure.

The figure in the mirror fought a smile, but laughter was still evident in its voice. “None of the above, but this is certainly a very amusing first conversation. Can’t say I imagined you to be like this when I read your letters.”

At the figure’s words, Anxin’s head shot up, eyes narrowing. “Letters? I never–”. He cut himself off with a groan before the sentence had even formed in his mind properly. “Don’t tell me…”

“Yeah, so… Hi. I’m Sangwon, and I’m guessing you didn’t see the note I attached to the parcel. But it’s good to finally talk to you, Anxin,” the figure, no, Sangwon, said with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his head.

“There was a note?” Anxin nearly screeched. A quick inspection of the wrapping revealed that yes, there was indeed a note attached to the inside of the parcel in Sangwon’s familiar print.

Dear Anxin

I sent a two-way mirror that I found in a store somehow. It should let us actually talk to each other properly. If you want to do that, just unwrap the packaging.

Hopefully talk to you soon,

Sangwon

Another groan fell from his lips alongside the thunk of his head hitting the table. “Sangwon. With all the kindness I can muster right now, who in Merlin’s right mind puts a note on the inside of the parcel?” He looked up with a glare, exasperation evident in his face. Though he still couldn’t stop the glint of amusement in his eyes as he continued speaking. “Especially unwrapping the parcel is supposed to mean that I want to talk to you? Which I do. Just to clarify that before you withdraw into yourself.”

Sangwon let out a nervous laugh, the sound slightly distorted but genuine. “I promise, next time I’ll put it right on top. Lesson learned.” He paused, nervously brushing his hair out of his face as he glanced away from the glass. “It’s just… I didn’t want to risk it getting lost as the owl flew to your school.”

Finally relaxing, Anxin sat down at his desk chair, hand moving from his wand to adjust the mirror. “Alright, I get it. Next time, maybe stick a note where it’s actually visible, though.”

Despite his earlier worries of meeting Sangwon beyond the familiar barrier of parchment, there was something oddly comforting about hearing Sangwon’s voice. Even if it was filtered through a magical mirror. It was quite the opposite, he was beginning to realise.

This mirror opened a whole new world for them to explore. One that was isolated from their schools and friends, born from a connection that nobody quite understood. As if there was a flower blooming in spite of the frozen ground outside.

***

They talked for hours, catching each other up on what happened during their respective breaks, though Anxin had significantly more to share. It was understandable considering Sangwon had rarely deviated from routine. But Anxin never let him feel out of place for that quiet, simply content to yap about the littlest things. Knowing that the other boy had written letters to send to him upon return helped quiet the stubborn voice inside his head telling him that he wasn’t doing enough.

To him, they were proof that he wasn’t expected to shoulder all the talking in this friendship.

For some reason that even Sangwon didn’t understand, he refrained from telling Anxin about the flying seahorse he’d found down at the Great Lake. Merlin, he’d wanted to. But something held him back. Maybe it was an innate fear of his interest in magical creatures being pushed aside again, regardless of how much he knew his friend likewise cared about them, or maybe it was a gut feeling telling him that now wasn’t the time. Regardless, the words had caught in his throat when he thought about them, so he swallowed them back down. The story of his Hogsmeade trip and a few chance encounters with Hogwarts’ ghosts were enough for this first conversation.

Just as the sun was beginning to set at Hogwarts, and the pile of revision he ought to do before tomorrow’s class loomed on his desk, Anxin suddenly broke off his current ramble.

“Wait, there’s something at Ilvermorny that I want to show you.”

Before Sangwon could so much as process what had been said, the previously steady view of the mirror was disturbed, and Anxin was hurrying down the corridor. He could vaguely make out snippets of laughter and the muffled chatter of students returning from break. The mirror jostled with every step, briefly catching flashes of colourful banners and the glimmer of enchanted lanterns overhead. Occasionally, they’d have to dodge various clusters of people and dropped bags. Clearly, people were still arriving back at school.

Anxin’s voice came back through the mirror, a little breathless and tinged with excitement, “Just hang on, you’re going to love this.”

“I hope so, because otherwise I'll have felt nauseous for no reason,” he replied, only half joking.

Without a word, the other’s speed suddenly reduced to a normal walking pace, accommodating to what Sangwon had said without a word. That silent consideration meant more than what Anxin probably realised, having spent too long learning to brush off his discomforts for his family, and occasionally his friends.

They came to a stop somewhere quieter, free from the bustle of the school entrance and dormitory hallways. The mirror had been turned around so that he could take in the space in its entirety.

In the mirror’s view was a courtyard, with cobbled floors forming a mosaic of greys and browns. Ordinarily, it would probably be a rather dull sight, but with the appearance of dozens of balls of light, a warm glow cast itself over the whole area. It seemed as though the whole space had broken off and was now separated from the world beyond its 4 walls. Even in the sunlight at Ilvermorny, their light wove a beautiful tapestry of gold and amber across the stone. A reminder that magic isn’t always loud, but it has the potential to provide comfort and peace.

And lying beyond the archways and windows was the slopes of Mount Greylock, its white backdrop stark in contrast with the warmth of the courtyard. Even through the mirror, Sangwon could see the packed snow clinging to the leaves of the red spruce and hemlock trees that covered the land, making each bough bow under the weight.

What caught his attention, and his breath, was the vast tree sitting in the centre of the courtyard, with its roots reaching underneath the cobblestones and likely spreading throughout the school. Its leaves swayed, adding to the shifting light on the courtyard floor. Dark branches twisted and curved, spanning the breadth of the courtyard and reaching up towards the ceiling, but on it was a unique wavy grain that made him pause.

“Anxin, is that a–”

“Yup. That’s a snakewood tree.” Even without seeing him, Sangwon could hear the smile in Anxin’s voice as he continued. “It’s been growing here for nearly as long as Ilvermorny has existed, making it nearly 400 years old. Apparently, it came from the wand of one of Ilvermorny’s founders, Isolt Sayre.”

“And they kept it?” Honestly, it was beyond comprehension for Sangwon that a school would willingly grow a snakewood tree. After all, the wood had become somewhat of a cautionary tale in Europe and was actively avoided by most witches and wizards. It was understandable considering it was a snakewood wand that Salazar Slytherin himself had used. While the stereotypes surrounding the four Hogwarts houses and their founders had grown considerably milder in the past century or two, the old wives' tale remained.

“Yeah. Though if I remember my first year history classes well enough, whenever I was awake at least, I do believe that the founders tried to get rid of it. But any attempts to kill or prune it were ultimately unsuccessful.”

“How on earth is it still alive, though? And able to fit in this courtyard?”

“The wonders of magic, my dear Sangwon. It is a magical tree after all, having grown from a snakewood wand. And the school eventually realised that this courtyard would expand to fit the tree as it grew. Though I think that realisation was more due to the ghosts than anyone else.”

He just stared at it in silence, taking in every aspect. The warm light shining off the floors and leaves. The almost hypnotising way the wavy grain snaked up the trunk. The rich colours that seemed to make every other tree he’s ever seen seem dull in comparison. It was… beautiful.

“I thought you’d appreciate the history behind it. But there’s one more thing about this that I think you’d love. I don’t think snakewood is very common outside of North America, so I doubt you would have known this. I didn’t know until I moved here from Shanghai, but the leaves of snakewood trees, this one even more so, have powerful healing properties. Nobody knows how, or why, but it’s a very versatile and powerful medicine.”

“Wow, that’s… so different to what we thought,” he murmured. Sangwon turned the information over in his mind, still gazing at the tree as if it held secrets he’d only just begun to uncover. “Makes you wonder how many stories we’ve missed out on, sticking to old superstitions.” The idea that something feared could also heal was quietly thrilling, a reminder that magic didn’t always fit neatly into the boxes people tried to make for it.

“It’s one of my favourite places to visit, especially at night when it’s quiet. Just to let the magic settle around me and say that everything has its place. It just needs to find where that is.” Anxin paused, and Sangwon peered up, as if he’d be able to see the boy holding the mirror from behind. “Sometimes, it feels like the tree is listening, you know? Even when I think nobody else would.”

There was something in Anxin’s tone, such heavy resignation, that made Sangwon speak up. “But you don’t need that anymore. Because you have me, right?”

Trapped by the boundaries of the mirror, still pointed at the snakewood tree, Sangwon was unable to see how the slight tension and resignation that lined Anxin’s face softened at his words. “Yeah. You’re right. I do.”

Silence hung for a moment, the kind that now felt more companionable than awkward. “So,” Anxin spoke up, turning the mirror back around as he began to trek back to his room, “does this mean we can actually talk whenever we need to, now?”

Sangwon’s eyes lit up, though his posture remained as perfect as ever. “Yeah. I mean, as long as you’ve got the mirror nearby, you can just say my name and I’ll hear you.”

At that, Anxin gave him a smile, one that he couldn’t quite read, but they continued talking before he could ponder it further. With each word exchanged, the strangeness of magical communication via a mirror suddenly felt like the most natural thing in the world. Maybe this mirror really would ease any worries the two had.

Just for a little while.

Chapter Text

With the winter break having just ended, and class officially starting up again, Sangwon was once more spending hours with his nose buried in the books. While his friends may have been inside the warmth of the Great Hall – after all, who in their right mind would sit outside amidst the snow – or even causing chaos in the dormitories far away from the watchful eyes of their professors, Sangwon was burning the midnight oil.

His friends had always laughed about his studying, calling it his recharge time.

They were right, in a sense.

The repetition of turning a page and taking notes helped ground him. Everything that he needed was right there in front of him. There was no need to search for a hidden meaning behind someone’s words or examine someone’s body language for clues.

Yes, he’d gotten better at simply interacting with others over the years, but old habits die hard.

And the recharge time was all the more necessary considering how loud all his friends were most of the time. A headache was already forming at the mere thought of that sort of shenanigans they could be getting up to, even at this time of the night.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, dipping his quill in the inkwell again, letting the soft scratching fill the silence.

Candlelight flickered gently on his desk, illuminating the stacks of notes and spines that only ever accumulated. Now and then, his gaze would flicker over to the mirror set up against the window as the figure in it let out a sigh and crossed something out on his parchment.

It had started early into the new term, when Anxin had sheepishly asked for help with a theory-based Potions assignment.

Normally, although not necessarily as good as Sangwon, he was quite good with the theory component. In fact, if it weren’t for extra Quidditch practices again, a constant source of complaints from the younger, these study sessions probably wouldn’t exist.

There was a comfort to be found in knowing that someone was there, albeit in a mirror, sharing the moment. They were both learning, in these extended silences and gentle exchanges, that silence didn’t have to be a form of rejection or awkwardness.

Being present was just as valuable and fulfilling.

Sometimes, the conversation would drift away, and Sangwon would hear the soft scratch of Anxin’s quill in tandem with his own, creating a rhythm of their own design. One that wasn’t heard by anyone else.

Anxin had grown to become a friend that he relied on since the start of the year, and there was likely never going to be a time when Sangwon would learn how to articulate how thankful he was for all his help and support.

Though only able to ‘talk’ late at night due to the time difference, occasionally earlier depending on Anxin’s timetable that day, they somehow managed to find a balance. In between helping each other with their respective weaker subjects, they’d share anecdotes of their day, bringing laughter to an otherwise somewhat tedious activity.

Like the time that Anxin accidentally mixed clockwise instead of anticlockwise and made the magical equivalent of a glitter bomb go off in his professor's face.

Or the time that Anxin hid cat treats in his friend’s bag, causing him to be confused as to why a clowder of cats followed him around all day.

Or the time that Anxin accidentally dropped the Snitch during Quidditch practice and spent another 30 minutes seeking it out.

Or the time that Anxin-

So maybe Anxin had a few more stories to tell than Sangwon did. Actually talking to him, rather than communicating via letters, and hearing the chaos of the day, did wonders to rewrite how Sangwon perceived his friend.

That was assuming, however, that all the stories were in fact true.

Even Sangwon’s own occasional stories, though considerably less eventful and often about his friends rather than himself, never felt out of place. They were received with the same enthusiasm, receiving boisterous laughs that usually resulted in an annoyed shushing sound from off-mirror.

It was also a major advantage to study with another person at this time, as Anxin would try to prevent Sangwon from overworking. Merlin knew that would never happen with his other friends, for they would always retire to their rooms before he did.

Though it was a slight case of the pot calling the kettle black, in his opinion.

Even with the atmosphere being more peaceful and, dare he say, productive than ever, he found himself staring at the same sentence on his Defence Against the Dark Arts assignment for the better part of five minutes.

No matter how hard he looked at it, racking his brain for what to say, no more ink went onto the page.

Okay, maybe it’s been ten minutes by now.

Sangwon’s eyes flicked to the mirror again, where Anxin was frowning at his books. If he tried hard enough, he might be able to set them on fire. He watched as he sighed, scratched something out on the paper next to him, and then rewrote it.

Seems like neither of them was getting anywhere.

“Hey, Anxin?”

The other boy looked up the instant his name was called, dropping his quill with a smile big enough to indicate he’d been waiting for an excuse to quit all this time. “What’s up? Please say you used a self-inking quill and it clogged up. I have a whole rant ready and waiting for how cursed they are. Seriously, you’re lucky that your robes are black. Much easier to hide ink explosions.”

Sangwon laughed, shaking his head at Anxin’s antics. “I… have so many questions. But unfortunately, no. You’ll get your chance one day, though. I’m sure of it.”

“Bummer. You’ll get used to having questions but no answers,” Anxin said brightly, trying unsuccessfully to spin his quill. “Okay, but seriously, what’s up?”

“You’re good at Defence Against the Dark Arts, right?

That made Anxin perk up, straightening in his seat at the mention of one of his favourite subjects. “DADA? Of course. Wait, really?” He gasped dramatically. “Sangwon, you need my help in DADA?”

Ever attuned to the moods of his friends, even while teasing Sangwon, the gentle reassurance underlying Anxin’s tone never let him once believe that the teasing was done in jest.

“I hear you, and I am ignoring your theatrics,” Sangwon muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “It’s this essay Professor Baek assigned us last week about the practical application of spells for general combat and outside of it.”

Immediately, a flurry of movement started up in the mirror as Anxin began digging through his bag. “That’s perfect! I can definitely help with that. For combat, just think about how spells can interact with people and the environment instead of what they’re normally used for.”

As Anxin talked, Sangwon made some notes on a separate piece of parchment, bouncing ideas off of his friend until he had a solid list of points that he could expand on for his essay. His attention was drawn back to the mirror again when Anxin made a triumphant sound, pulling a small book out of his bag.

“Note to self, organise my bag,” said Anxin, already flipping through it as he turned to the mirror again. “My dear Sangwon, you’ve come to just the right man for help. I have so many notes about how you can use combat spells on the regular without actually fighting. How many do you need?”

He blinked, trying to think over the rapid-fire speech being all but thrown at him. “Uh… two?  I mean, I already wrote that a weak Calvorio curse could be used to groom animals. So-”

Anxin tilted his head, interrupting him with a bewildered stare. “Okay, firstly, I’m writing that down. Secondly, how did you not immediately think of Protego being used as a rain shield?”

“Is that… even allowed?” Sangwon asked, writing it down despite his protests.

“It works, doesn’t it? Who wants to carry around an umbrella anyway?” Anxin waved his quill like a wand. “High fashion. Zero water damage. No extra items.”

Silence fell again for a brief moment as Anxin flipped through his notebook again, humming in thought. “Oh! Here’s another one! So you know how Expelliarmus is meant to disarm someone?”

This already sounded like something that would give Sangwon a headache if he were there. “Yes…”

“Well, once, I used it to get my broomstick unstuck from a tree branch during practice. Worked like a charm. Pun very much intended.”

“You disarmed a tree,” Sangwon said, levelling a look at Anxin.

“I disarmed gravity, thank you very much.”

“And you didn’t use Accio because…?”

“Must’ve slipped my mind. Expelliarmus is more fun to use either way.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” Anxin said so sweetly, honey might as well have been dripping from his voice, “you came to me for help.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Sangwon replied, glancing down at his parchment again. Already, he could see the next sentences forming, settling back into a familiar rhythm. With Anxin scribbling away across the mirror, mumbling thoughts to himself with the occasional dramatic commentary, the stress of DADA that had been lingering all day began to lift.

This was what he hadn’t realised he needed.

***

Sangwon had tried everything. Stretching. Reading. Simply lying there and willing his body to sleep. But nothing worked. Not even the snores of his roommates as white noise.

His mind just kept running in a circle like a baby dragon discovering it had a tail for the umpteenth time. Looping endlessly back to the essay feedback he just received from Professor Baek.

Eventually, he sat up, resolving that he was likely not going to sleep tonight. The moon shone gently through the window, casting a ghostly, pale light over the room. Outside, it caught the snowfall, and if he looked further, the expanse of the Great Lake as well.

It was an idealistic scene that could’ve been from a painting hanging along Hogwarts’ corridors. But it was the gentle drifting of the snow and the sparkle of the lake that prevented Sangwon from looking away. It was as if the sky had fallen to meet the earth, and he was the only one around to witness it.

Despite the certainty of frigid weather, he was out of bed, shoving his feet into fleece-lined boots as he bundled himself up in his warmest winter clothing. Just before he could reach for the handle, he paused, glancing back at his bedside table. Before he could think twice, Sangwon had crossed the room to grab the mirror, closing the door behind him without a sound.

It’s incredibly difficult for a student to slip past the nighttime groundskeepers, garnering themselves detentions and docked house points for their actions. But Sangwon had discovered a secret passageway behind a suit of armour last year that led from the 5th floor to the Herbology classrooms. Thus, the only risk involved with sneaking out was going up two floors to get to the suit of armour. That and if the Herbology professor was doing any midnight gardening.

Luckily, the coast was clear tonight, and Sangwon made it out of the passage with few difficulties.

It’s not that he had a habit of sneaking out. He never liked the guilt, or the sleep deprivation, that came the following morning. There were just times when he needed more fresh air than cracking open a window could provide.

Not with the silence of his dorm room suffocating him.

There were no lights to guide his path down to the Great Lake, but he traversed downhill quite easily, occasionally casting Lumos when necessary. When he reached the bottom of the hill, far away from the looming presence of the castle, he sat down on the sand.   

Gazing out at the small waves lapping against the shore, Sangwon took the opportunity to simply, breathe.

Already, the weight in his chest felt lighter. Being alone down here always made Sangwon feel as if he’d entered a world for himself. Usually, it would take until dawn for him to be recollected enough to return. By his estimation, there were still about three-and-a-half hours left until then.

Maybe this time would be different.

He looked at the mirror in his hands. An indiscernible reflection of his own face, mostly hidden in the dark, stared back.

Was it too late?

Anxin would probably be asleep, he tried to reason with himself.

But then again, part of his mind reminded him that Anxin always said to call if someone was wrong.

“Anxin?”

His voice came out quiet, slightly weak even to his own ears. It was barely heard over the waves, no matter how faint. A few moments passed in silence. He was about to try again when the surface of the mirror shifted from black. The faint light now coming through was enough to reveal Anxin, eyes searching.

“Sangwon?” He blinked at the mirror, reaching for his glasses. “What’s going on? Isn’t it late for you over there?

Sangwon offered a small, apologetic smile. “About… 2 in the morning, I’d reckon? Sorry. I just…”

“No, don’t apologise. Let me just–” he cut himself off, and the mirror went black again, likely face down. He could still hear muffled voices talking quietly. He recognised Anxin’s voice, but the deeper one was unfamiliar. It must be the roommate, Nian.

As Sangwon waited, he tugged his jacket tighter around himself, the lack of movement not helping against the cold. There was the sound of fabric rustling and then footsteps. Then, Anxin appeared again, though the lighting was much warmer.

“Had to move, sorry. I presumed you wouldn’t be too enthusiastic about my roommate overhearing our conversation. Luckily, the common room is empty right now.” Anxin settled into an oversized armchair, taking his glasses off and hooking them onto the loose t-shirt he was wearing. “You don’t usually call at this hour. You okay? Did something happen?”

Sangwon looked past Anxin as he searched for the words. The room behind him looked inviting and well-lived-in, lit by the flickering light of what could only be a fireplace. The kind of space that students would relax in after a long day of school. “It’s just… one of those nights.”

He didn’t know how else to explain it. There was no nightmare. No bad news. In fact, his day prior had gone quite well.

For a moment, the only sounds were the distant waves and Anxin’s steady breathing through the mirror. If he strained his ears, he could nearly pick out the crackle of the fire.

“Want to talk about it?”

Sangwon wasn’t quite sure. This whole conversation, bringing the mirror with him, had been done completely on a whim.

But then again, the silence didn’t feel so heavy now that Anxin was there. His mind had quieted a bit.

“I just…” He paused, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “You know that DADA essay you helped me with the other day?”

Anxin nodded, but stayed silent, letting him speak.

“Well, I got the essay back from my professor today. And I got an E.” He fell silent, running a hand over his face. The quiet lasted long enough that Anxin opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Sangwon before he could.

“And it's a good grade! Merlin, I know it's a good grade. But I'm not happy with it. Because all I can hear is my father's voice telling me that anything below an O is not good enough.”

He'd mentioned his father a few times offhandedly, to which Anxin would counter what had been said, resulting in awkward silences. After the first few times, he’d resolved not to talk about it. Until he couldn’t help it.

Anxin didn’t speak right away, which somehow made him feel more at ease. There was no judgment. Only quiet acceptance.

When Anxin finally spoke, waiting until certain that Sangwon would not continue, his voice was gentle.

“That sounds exhausting.”

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected the younger boy to say, but it wasn’t that. Maybe a pep talk, or a list of reasons why he should be happy about receiving an E, or even another absurd tale to try and cheer him up. Instead, Anxin had said exactly what it was.

Exhausting.

He let out a long breath that misted in the cold night air.

“It is.”

There was another pause as he collected himself again. “He just… has this way of making me feel like I’ll never be good enough for him. I’ve tried so hard, but no matter what I do, there’s always something I could’ve done better. And it’s not like there’s normally yelling or punishments or anything – though there definitely are sometimes if I’ve done badly enough. There’s just this constant…” He stopped again, searching desperately for the right word. “…disappointment.”

“And sometimes that’s worse.” Anxin’s gaze was steady and open as he spoke, not a trace of pity in his eyes, which Sangwon appreciated.

He looked up at the sky, so far away from the constraints of this world. “I think that’s why I never stop. Why I can’t stop. Nobody even realises. I’ve been constantly trying to outrun that voice for as long as I can remember.” He laughed, but it sounded choked. “And do you want to know what the worst part is? I know how lucky I am, and that I am doing well. I just… I just wish that I could be proud of myself. Yet, I can’t.”

He fell silent, suddenly feeling exhausted. The raw honesty of what he’d just confessed hung between them. For a while, neither spoke. Something loosened inside of him. It wouldn’t be right to call it relief, but the weight in his chest had lightened, upheld by the one person who heard his pain and accepted it.

Anxin finally broke the silence, running a hand through his hair. “Can I say something?”

“Of course.”

“It’s hard when the first voice in your head isn’t your own. And it’s okay to want him to be proud of you. But it’s not okay that you’re the only one trying to meet halfway.” His voice was slow and deliberate, making sure that Sangwon heard what he was saying. Each word he spoke carried weight. “He does not have to be proud of you for you to be proud of yourself. Your successes are not defined by his failures.”

It took Sangwon a moment to take in the words. They weren’t revolutionary. But they lingered in his mind, and for just a moment, they echoed louder than anything his father said.

“I wish he thought like that.”

“You’re not your dad,” Anxin murmured. “Just because he thinks that way doesn’t mean you have to.”

“I know,” was the only reply he received.

They sat in silence after that, one watching the moon shining on the lake, and the other staring into dying flames.

“Thanks for coming when I called,” Sangwon said eventually.

“Always,” Anxin replied easily, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

He smiled, small but genuine. “I don’t say it enough, but… I’m really glad that you ended up being my pen pal.”

“You don’t have to say it,” Anxin said, his voice warm. “I know.” A beat passed, then he added, “You should try to sleep soon.”

“Yeah,” Sangwon murmured, standing up and brushing off his pants. “I think I can now.”

He didn’t put the mirror away. Not yet. Just walked back up the snow-covered hill in silence, away from the moonlit lake.

It wasn’t a solution. The voice in his head hadn’t disappeared.

But now, it wasn’t the only one.

Chapter Text

It was that time of the month again. When everyone could set down their quills, and the professors wouldn’t even bat an eye.

Hogsmeade’s streets were alive with warmth and noise, buzzing with the energy of nearly an entire school in the village. Laughter spilled from the shops along with clusters of students, already on a sugar high from their time in Honeydukes. That was, of course, only if they’d left yet.

The chill was ever-present in the air, though rendered obsolete as the aroma of peppermint, cinnamon, and all manner of other spices filled the air. If Sangwon didn’t know better, he’d think it was still Christmas. Though with everyone’s pink cheeks from excitement and the cold – as well as the occasional confession – it might as well be.

Hogsmeade trips only came once a month after all. All of them were trying to squeeze as much joy out of the day as possible.

Hence why Sangwon’s friends had all but dragged him here. Not that there’d been many protests.

“Well,” came Leo’s voice, right in his ear. He slung an arm around Sangwon’s shoulders with a teasing grin. “Surely this beats those dusty old books, right?”

He pretended to stagger at the sudden weight, throwing a mock glare at his friend’s way. “I suppose it would depend on your definition of fun.”

Leo laughed, loud and boisterous as always. How this man was supposedly an introvert was a mystery to him. “Come on, you know you love it here. Don’t think I’m unaware of your plan to raid Honeydukes' stocks of Chocolate Frogs and Sugar Quills later.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sangwon said as he straightened, deadpan.

Shaking his head in amusement, Leo continued to drag Sangwon alongside him. They wove through the crowd, nearly getting caught in the crossfire of a snowball fight rapidly devolving into madness.

After one too many close encounters, they finally arrived at their destination – an inn whose weathered wood and bricks were a testament to the age of the establishment. The three broomsticks, just above the door, hung in a triangle around a lantern, drawing them in like moths to a flame. Snow had piled up on the roof everywhere but the entrance, leaving patrons free to enter without fear of the white powder landing on their heads.

Sangwon, for the life of him, never knew if it was from an ever-present heating spell or the owner’s care.

Pushing open the door to the Three Broomsticks Inn, the two were immediately greeted with the clink of glasses, indicative of the usual controlled chaos. The establishment was packed from wall to wall, many of the patrons wearing Hogwarts’ telltale black robes. As such, there was an overwhelming presence of Butterbeer, its distinct buttery smell of brown sugar and caramel spreading throughout the inn.

This place had never changed. Crowded and a bit smoky at times, the inn was warm and cozy year-round, making it a welcome stop for Sangwon and his friends every trip.

Speaking of friends, he spotted them tucked away in a booth in the corner and started walking in their direction. Making it to the booth without being hit by gesticulating hands or swinging ponytails was a feat, but they managed.

Kangmin and Geonwoo were already bickering over something. No doubt a trivial matter. Leejeong, of course, was playing the devil’s advocate, seemingly supporting whichever side was losing. Which left Junseo, unfortunately, in the middle of everything, looking increasingly like a tired dad by the second.

“What’re you guys arguing about this time?” Leo said, slipping into the booth next to Geonwoo, leaving Sangwon with the seat next to Leejeong. “Much more of this and poor Junseo will go grey.”

The boy in question stood up, rubbing his temples. “Which is exactly why I’m going to get us drinks now that everyone’s here.”

“Leo! Sangwon! You guys will be on my side, right?” Kangmin pleaded immediately, barely letting the two sit down. “I said that Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans are a menace to magical society and should be banned, but–”

“Which is absurd and just completely wrong,” Geonwoo cut in, leaning across the table. “They’re a culinary adventure, Kangmin. You should appreciate it more. Just because you can’t handle the thrill of possibly eating grass–”

“Or soap. Or earwax,” Kangmin cried, throwing his hands up. “Which I did. Twice! And there are worse flavours!”

“Which means you have bad luck,” Geonwoo shot back. “It’s not my fault the bean gods smote you.”

“Kangmin’s got a point,” Leejeong chimed in, grinning as Geonwoo glared at him. “Though I must say, I’m partial to the weird ones. Tastes like not-so-delicious chaos.”

“You’re all insane,” Kangmin grumbled. “Is it too much to ask for a snack instead of a game of digestive roulette?”

A resounding yes chorused from their group, and Kangmin groaned, sliding down in his chair. Sangwon let out a soft laugh. He’d always loved the way his friends would bicker without bitterness. It was a miracle that he’d found this group during his first year, especially considering how quiet he was at the start.

Not that it was as much of a problem with them anymore. Just most of the other people in the school.

“So what I’m hearing,” Sangwon said lightly, “is that when we inevitably go to Honeydukes later, we get Bertie Bott’s and feed them to Kangmin, making bets on the flavour.”

The sound of betrayal that Kangmin let out sent everyone into a fit of laughter.

“I don’t want to know, do I?” came Junseo’s voice. They turned to find him approaching the table carefully with a tray of drinks. Kangmin opened his mouth to say something, which would probably start the whole debate again. “Nope. Just- no.”

Six foaming tankards of hot Butterbeer were placed on the table for the group, with everyone taking out the required two sickles to pay the other back. And, in accordance with their tradition for the first Hogsmeade trip of each semester, the group raised their glasses in a toast together, wishing for good results.

Letting the drink warm his numb fingers, Sangwon sat there, listening to the chatter around him. Occasionally, he would chip in with his own comments on the current topic of discussion.

“It just doesn’t seem feasible that a giant would be able to skip stones.”

“I’m just saying, if the staircase supposedly tried to kill you twice, maybe don’t go up it again, Geon.”

“How does one ‘accidentally’ attract a swarm of pixies?”

“No, I’m with Junseo. It literally has exploding in the name. There’s no way exploding snap is safe.”

“How did we go from divination to dragons? Again?”

These were the kinds of moments he’d never have imagined having in his first year. Loud, messy and entirely his. The opposite of his life before Hogwarts.

Eventually, the conversation somehow made its way to the pen pal project from the start of the year.

“I’m just saying,” Leejeong was saying, draining his tankard completely, “that the project is ineffective. Just consider how long it takes for an owl to fly all that way.”

Geonwoo rolled his eyes, swirling the last dregs of his drink left at the bottom of the tankard. “That’s because you’re missing the point. It’s a cross-cultural exchange.”

“Wouldn’t it have been better to do that with Durmstrang or Beauxbatons then?”

“Careful, Leejeong. You’re beginning to sound like Sangwon when we first got this,” Leo snorted, receiving a kick under the table from the person in question, and a muttered request, “Shut up”.

Leejeong was still arguing his case unfazed, with an empty tankard waving in one hand as if it gave him more credibility. “My point is, if the point was a cultural exchange, why not organise it with a school that doesn’t require a transatlantic owl flight? There are plenty of magical schools in Europe with greater cultural differences.”

Geonwoo raised an eyebrow. “Because we already have regular events with them thanks to the Triwizard Cup.”

“More importantly,” Junseo interjected, “we don’t speak each other’s languages well enough to communicate in writing. You can barely manage that in English.”

That earned another round of laughter. The kind that was teasing without being biting. It bubbled up around the table, seemingly warming the air between them.

 Before another round of banter could start, Kangmin tilted his head toward Sangwon.

“Wait, are you still talking to yours?”

It was a casual question, but the way the others fell silent made it clear that they’d all wondered the same.

The mirror, which he packed carefully into his bag this morning after some thought, suddenly felt like it weighed a ton.

It was understandable. Sangwon had spent a lot more time than anyone else writing to his pen pal last semester. If you were to look for him, chances are he’d be heading to the owlery, letter in hand. And now, nothing.

Of course, there was no need to, not now that they could communicate through the mirror. But his friends didn’t know that.

He didn’t want to tell them about it. Explain that they’d moved beyond the ink. The only disadvantage of the mirror was that what used to be contained in the privacy of the parchment could now be bared to the world.

And he knew his friends. They were, by nature, nosy. Part of the reason why they became friends in the first place. That just wasn’t something he wanted in his friendship with Anxin.

That was his, and his alone.

He wasn’t quite ready for his worlds to collide.

Not right now at least.

So, he blinked once, being careful to keep his face neutral. “Yeah,” he said, reaching for his Butterbeer. “Not over the break, obviously. With the holidays and everything. You know how it is.”

Junseo leaned in a little. “But I don’t think I’ve seen you writing since school returned either.”

“Nah. We’re still talking.” He shrugged, trying to keep it light. “Just… a bit busy, I guess.”

There was a beat of silence, just long enough that Sangwon took another sip to avoid looking at them.

Then Kangmin laughed. “Right. Busy with studying to maintain those perfect grades of yours. Why don’t you let one of us try being first for a change?”

In an instant, Sangwon’s smile froze, and he forced himself to laugh along with the group. “Maybe if you didn’t procrastinate everything, you wouldn’t have to ask for that.” Nobody noticed how it took half a second too long for him to respond, or that they rushed out too quickly to cover that up.

This time, the laughter wasn’t comfortable.

Instead, he felt slightly out of step, like he was dancing to music just a few beats ahead of him, unable to catch up.

The conversation, led by Leo, continued to drift onward without him, and Sangwon let it, grateful for the reprieve.

After a while, he glanced down at his half-empty tankard. The warmth had dulled, just like his place at the table. Unless originally served cold, Butterbeer never tasted nice once it cooled down. He downed it with a grimace.

“I think I’m going to walk around for a bit,” he said suddenly, rising from his seat before anyone could ask why.

Leo glanced up, concern in his expression. Maybe someone had noticed the shift after all. “Want company?”

“It’s alright. I might check out the book stores anyway. I’ll meet you guys at Honeydukes.”

Not waiting for more than a few nods and waves as acknowledgement, he slipped out of the inn, letting the cold air hit him full in the face. It was sharp, but welcome.

It kept him focused.

Stopped him from running back inside and telling Kangmin that he’d, “love for someone else to take first, but that could never happen because his father would find out”.

Hogsmeade was still filled with snowball fights, bursts of laughter, and students ducking in and out of shops, clutching striped bags of sweets. In all the frenzy, head down and avoiding everyone around him, Sangwon trekked through the snow slowly, with no particular destination in mind.

He just wanted to get Kangmin’s words out of his head. Rationally, he knew that it was meant in jest, adding to the atmosphere that they’d built up.

It’s not like he ever told them about why he worked so hard.

Maybe that was part of the problem.

Sometimes, it felt like he was two separate entities, held together by a single beam, yet wholly separate. It allowed him to enjoy the life that he had with his friends. Where he could laugh at dumb jokes and feel alive. Like he mattered.

On the flipside, he was drowning under the pressure of double-checking every word and counting his marks like currency. In a way, it was one.

But there’s only so much the beam can take before it inevitably snaps. Already, Sangwon could feel it starting to bend under the pressure.

Maybe he was just being silly. He should go back and–

That sounds exhausting.

Anxin’s voice rang through his head, making him stop in his tracks.

This feeling would pass after a while.

It always did.

But he was allowed to stop being fine.

He was allowed to break.

Anxin had made that clear.

It was hard to remember that he was a person and not a performance after spending so long being the latter.

He tugged his scar tighter around his neck as the wind blew, suddenly feeling the cold more than before. Looking up to a warm store from where he’d stopped, he noticed exactly where he’d walked to in a daze.

That same unassuming house on the outskirts of the village, faded green sign saying ‘Stitches and Draughts’. Of course.

He had promised to visit after all.

Pushing open the door, the bell above let out a soft chime, barely able to be heard over the cacophony of sounds behind him.

Seems like even when he was lost in his head, his feet knew where to go.

“Are you enjoying the mirror, dear?” The shopkeeper’s voice sounded suddenly as she emerged from the backroom.

He couldn’t help the smile that appeared when he saw her, not with the air of joy she just seemed to radiate. “Yes, I am. Thank you very much. Are you sure I can’t pay you for it?”

She waved him off, summoning a teapot and pouring its contents into two teacups. “Nonsense. If you continue to visit like you promised, dear, then I’ll be content. Tea?”

He accepted the steaming cup silently, sinking into one of the many chairs littering the store’s floor. “Sangwon.”

“What was that, dear?”

“Sangwon. That’s uh- that’s my name,” he coughed, suddenly embarrassed.

“Well then, Sangwon. It’s lovely to officially meet you, dear.” She smiled at him over the rim of her cup, eyes crinkling and blending into the wrinkles on her face. “Gytha Ogg. Though I’m normally called Nanny Ogg.”

Then, without a word, she took a long drink from the cup and set it down, beginning to hum a strange tune.

Sangwon didn’t move for a long moment. Steam curled up in the shapes of little animals and disappeared into the air. Distractedly, he wondered if it was spelled that way.

It was so quiet in the shop, letting him rest both mentally and physically. Looking around, it seems some of the items had changed, though the variety was as big as ever. It smelled faintly of old parchment, fruit tea, and something sweet he couldn’t quite place. There was just no telling what this store was for.

Nanny Ogg settled into her armchair with a soft sigh, still sipping on her tea as she pointed to a half-finished scarf. Her needles – they looked to be two different sizes, which was strange – clicked together rhythmically.

She didn’t fill the silence.

She didn’t ask questions.

She simply let him be.

Sangwon breathed.

Just a cup of tea and a strange old woman who’d lived long enough to know what someone needed most.

He stayed as long as he dared, but unfortunately, he knew his friends would be waiting for him at Honeydukes. As he was preparing to head out, he paused. “Nanny Ogg, why did you–” He cut himself off, looking at what she’d just pushed into his hands.

It was a box of tea leaves that they’d just had.

She smiled knowingly. “You don’t always need to be interesting to be worth someone’s time, dear. Just showing up is enough. Remember that.”

Sangwon stood there for a moment, the box warm in his hands even though it hadn’t come from the kettle. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“Come visit me next time,” Nanny Ogg called as he walked out the door. She hummed to herself as she walked into the backrooms again, knitting and tea wares floating behind her.

Nobody else would be coming in today.