It was another unusually bright morning at Blackmoor Academy, where for the past few days the sky had looked as though it had been painted by someone in love—hazy golds, pastel blues, and an occasional heart-shaped cloud (which Jessa swore looked like Raphael's abs).
Ever since Mr. Shawn "arrived"—or, as everyone now firmly believed, "returned" to the school—things had gotten strangely romantic. People were holding hands in the library, writing anonymous love notes on floating parchments, and even Professor Grimble the grouchy alchemy teacher had begun humming love songs during class.
But no one, except Stephen, found any of this suspicious.
Morning Announcements
The enchanted speakers around the academy crackled to life with their usual gentle chime. Then came Mr. Shawn's velvet voice, smooth and honeyed:
> "Good morning, children of love. I am delighted to announce… PROM NIGHT… will take place tomorrow evening in the Grand Enchanted Ballroom. Dress to express your hearts. No fighting. Only flirting. Remember… it's me, Mr. Shawn. You've always known me. Always loved me."
Students squealed. Notes flew through the air like owls on a love mission. Hope's mouth dropped open slightly.
"Prom? Since when do we do prom?" she asked, blinking.
London, sitting beside her at the breakfast table, grinned. "Since forever. Don't you remember Mr. Shawn talking about it last year?"
Hope blinked again. "Wait… no, that was—"
Mr. Shawn suddenly walked past the table, smiling warmly.
"Ah, my two lovebirds. I expect fireworks tomorrow night." He winked at them. "Remember."
London nodded dreamily. "Of course, Mr. Shawn."
Hope squinted. "London. What. Just. Happened."
London just smiled and continued buttering his toast.
---
The Jealous Stare
Across the room, Celeste sat at a table, glancing toward Hope and London. Her eyes lingered too long.
She wasn't even trying to be discreet. Her toast was untouched. Her tea had gone cold. Her eyes—narrowed.
"Someone's pouting," Jessa teased, sliding in beside her with a mischievous smirk.
Celeste snapped back to attention. "What? No. I'm just… curious."
"About Hope and London?"
"No!" Celeste said, far too quickly. "Just… interested in their magical compatibility. It's… research."
Jessa raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so you research romantic handholding and longing stares now?"
Celeste went crimson. "You wouldn't understand."
Jessa poked her side. "Ooooh. Little Miss Ice Queen got melty."
"I did not! I just—ugh. I'm going to go study... somewhere else."
She stormed off, but not before sneaking one last glance at Hope and London, who were now talking about what snacks to bring to prom like it was a mission briefing.
---
Meanwhile, in the Office of Mild Paranoia
Stephen, however, was not thinking about snacks.
He had spent the entire night trying to trap Mr. Shawn in a "truth circle," but somehow had ended up trapped in a wardrobe again—with his shoelaces tied together and a love poem stuck to his forehead.
Now he sat in front of the same wardrobe (still slightly resentful), talking to it.
"I know you're just wood and hinges, but you understand me, right? Something is off with Mr. Shawn. People are forgetting things. Like, big things. Like RICHARD disappearing!"
The wardrobe did not reply.
Stephen narrowed his eyes. "That's what I thought. Silence. Just like him."
He stood up suddenly.
"This time… I'm going in prepared."
---
Stephen's Not-So-Great Plan
Fifteen minutes later, Stephen kicked open the door to Mr. Shawn's office. He wore a tinfoil hat, sunglasses, socks over his gloves (he said they were "anti-hypnosis mitts"), and had a portable memory recorder floating behind him.
"THIS TIME," he declared, "I WILL NOT FORGET."
Mr. Shawn looked up from a stack of heart-shaped forms.
"Stephen. My boy. You look like a microwave conspiracy."
"I remember who you are," Stephen declared.
"Of course you do. I'm Mr. Shawn. Remember?"
Stephen opened his mouth.
Paused.
Blinked.
Looked at the camera.
Then slowly turned to the door… and left.
Ten minutes later, he returned. This time holding an enchanted chain and a glowing truth rune.
Mr. Shawn didn't look up. "Back again?"
Stephen handcuffed their wrists together. "We're not leaving until I remember who you really are."
Mr. Shawn smiled calmly. "Are you sure?"
"Very."
Mr. Shawn whispered, "Remember…"
And in an instant—
Stephen was chained to the wardrobe again.
"OH COME ON!"
---
Later That Day – Dress Fittings and Dilemmas
Hope stood in front of a mirror in her dorm room while Jessa helped her pin her dress for the prom.
"I can't believe we're doing this," Hope said, holding up the dress. "Prom? I've fought demons, jumped from dragons, and survived potions class. But a slow dance? Terrifying."
Jessa laughed. "You're more scared of slow dancing than evil witches?"
Hope gave her a look. "You've never danced with someone you like. It's like… all your feelings are just there. Out in the open. No turning back."
Jessa turned suddenly quiet. "You're right."
Hope tilted her head. "Is this about Raphael?"
Jessa shrugged. "He's not the idiot I thought he was. It's annoying. He's actually… sweet."
Hope smiled. "Go with him."
"Not unless he asks me."
"You could ask him."
"I'm not that evolved."
They both laughed.
---
Closing the Day – The Calm Before the Prom
That evening, the sun dipped below the enchanted hills around the academy. Students buzzed about like bees in a field of roses. Plans were forming. Dresses and tuxes were being prepped. Someone was building a floating confetti cannon. (Stephen was secretly rigging it to explode glitter if Mr. Shawn stepped near it.)
Outside by the fountain, London found Hope sitting quietly.
He sat beside her, not saying anything at first.
Finally, he asked, "Would you want to… go with me tomorrow? To prom?"
Hope smiled softly. "Only if you're wearing that jacket you nearly burned during spell training."
London smirked. "It's got character now."
Their fingers brushed.
"No pressure," Hope said. "But… I'd like to dance with you. Maybe just once."
London nodded. "Just once might not be enough."
They looked at each other.
And the moment held.
---
Meanwhile...
Stephen burst into Daemon's room holding blueprints of Mr. Shawn's office.
"I'm going to break into the desk. Tonight."
Daemon didn't even look up from his book. "You'll end up tied to the fireplace this time."
Stephen hissed. "That was ONE TIME."