"Everyone please take a seat," a youthful voice welcomed the approaching first-years into the spellcrafting classroom—resulting in some hushed chatter.
"Who is that?"
"Is he our substitute teacher?"
As Michael walked into the room, he saw a familiar figure leaning against the desk at the front of the class. He had a pale complexion and sparkling hazel eyes—his tousled brown hair seeming as if he'd just gotten out of bed.
His eyes lit up in recognition.
It's Charles!?
Michael was pleasantly surprised to see the guy here, taking over for Professor Murphy. Though they had seen each other briefly during the entrance exams, they had not had a chance to speak.
Though he'd looked for his old tutor during the first semester, he was nowhere to be found.
Their eyes met briefly and Charles sent him a warm smile. He gestured to the rows of seats—as if silently telling him now was not the time for a rendezvous.
