It was still early when the group gathered in the grand front hall of the manor. Elira — perched regally on the coat stand — was preening with deliberate disinterest, her golden eyes watching the commotion like a queen overlooking peasants.
Cassian stood near the centre of the room, holding what looked like a rusted, out-of-place wrench. He turned it in his hand with a grin.
"Portkey," he said, amused, catching Arthur's incredulous expression. "MACUSA budget cuts. Don't judge it by the shine."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "It looks like something that should've been buried with the Titanic."
"It probably was," Cassian replied cheerfully. "But it'll get you there. Might scramble your organs a bit, but who's keeping track?"
Dorian chuckled from where he leaned against the banister, arms crossed. "Still using junkyard keys, Cass? Classy."
Cassian gave him a smirk. "Ilvermorny prefers practical to pretty. You know that."
Lenora stepped forward then, her long cloak trailing behind her, and handed Daniel a sealed envelope. "Give this to Headmistress Wren directly. She'll want to see it unopened."
Daniel nodded. "Understood."
"She knows we're coming?" Arthur asked, glancing between the envelope and Lenora.
"She's expecting you," Lenora replied. "Ilvermorny doesn't take surprise guests lightly. Especially not transfers from Hogwarts."
"Transfer?" Micah's voice piped up beside Arthur. The youngest of the group, he was bundled in two scarves, and still managed to look excitedly windblown. "More like stowaway cousin, am I right?"
Arthur grinned. "Takes one to know one."
Cassian's tone shifted slightly, more serious now. "One thing before you go: the companion system at Ilvermorny isn't what you're used to. No owls. No cats. No toads. They train magical beasts to bond and fight alongside students."
Arthur blinked. "So... I can't take Elira?"
Elira let out a sharp screech of indignation from her perch, talons digging into the coat rack.
"No offense, Elira," Cassian said dryly, not even glancing at her. "It's not about rejection. It's about battle-readiness. Ilvermorny expects companions who can stand beside you in a fight."
"She's vicious when she wants to be," Arthur muttered.
"She bites me every time I visit," Dorian said with mock woundedness.
"She has taste," Elira sniffed.
Arthur reached up to her. "Guess I'll see you later?"
"Don't get killed," she said, her voice dry, sardonic — a voice only Arthur could hear.
"I'll try."
Liam was fidgeting nervously beside him now. "So... uh, this your first time too?"
Arthur nodded. "Yeah."
"Cool," Liam said, voice breaking slightly. "Coolcoolcool."
Vivienne rolled her eyes and adjusted her gloves. "Boys."
Cassian extended the portkey. "Everyone, touch it."
Daniel placed a steady hand on the wrench. Dorian followed with a lazy grace. Arthur and Micah reached in at the same time, hands brushing. Liam hesitated before nudging forward and joining.
Cassian gave them all one last look. "Stick with Daniel. He knows the way."
"You're not coming?" Arthur asked.
Cassian gave a crooked grin. "Been there. Done that. Besides, someone's got to handle your paperwork when you break rules."
"Liar," Vivienne muttered.
Cassian winked.
Lenora offered a small wave just as the portkey activated. A roar of wind, color, and cold rushed over them, and the world twisted violently—
The Mountain Base – Ilvermorny Outskirts
They landed hard.
Snow crunched beneath their boots as the group stumbled into a wide, rune-etched clearing surrounded by jagged stone markers and towering evergreens. The air was crisp and wild, biting with a northern chill that pierced their coats.
A sprawling range of snow-laced mountains loomed above them like silent titans. Somewhere beyond the peaks, Ilvermorny waited.
"Welcome to the base grounds," Daniel said, his voice steady. "From here, the only way up is by beast."
Arthur staggered slightly, still woozy from the portkey. Micah faceplanted dramatically into the snow with a grunt.
"Ten points from dignity," Dorian said, stepping lightly over him.
Vivienne groaned. "America needs better magical travel systems. Something... civilized."
Dorian stood nearby, brushing off his sleeves like he'd merely hopped off a moving train. "Really now, you'd think by seventh year they'd let us fly in properly."
Micah, still green. "I dunno. That was kind of...fun. I saw three stars and someone's aunt."
Arthur groaned. "That might've been me."
Beast-handlers stood nearby with glowing scrolls and rune-charms, wrangling creatures far more majestic than anything Arthur had seen in Care of Magical Creatures.
Sleek lynxes with frost-touched whiskers. Ghostlike elk with antlers etched in silver runes. Feathered bears. A sky-deep gryffin with golden eyes that shimmered like suns. And—
A wolf.
Not just a wolf.
A massive, silver-furred creature with eyes sharp as moonlight and a mane that shifted like smoke. It sat on a rock at the edge of the clearing, tail flicking, mouth curled in an expression Arthur could only describe as "smug judgment."
Something in Arthur's chest clicked. He didn't walk toward the wolf. His body just… moved.
The wolf's eyes narrowed. "You. Turn around."
Arthur blinked. "Great. A wolf with attitude."
The wolf's ears perked. "Oh, no." It stood slowly. "Not you."
Arthur stepped back. "I'm sorry?"
"You can hear me."
The voice wasn't just a sound — it was a presence, threaded into Arthur's thoughts, deep and gruff and full of disdain.
"This is going to ruin my week."
"I haven't chosen you," Arthur said.
The wolf paced toward him, eyes glowing faintly.
"Then walk away. Shoo. Find a squirrel. Or one of those fluffy guys."
"Oh, great. You're that kind of wolf."
From somewhere to the left, the lynx snorted.
"He's finally met his match," the lynx said in a dry feminine voice. "Careful, Alpha. This one's mouth is just as big as yours."
The elk added, "I give them three minutes before one of them snaps."
"I say two," A deer added.
Arthur's head jerked between them. "Wait, why are you all talking now?"
"Because we can," a lynx said. "It's you who's listening in."
"Unfortunately," the wolf growled, "this one's unlikable. Like little Reeves over there." The wolf jerked its head toward Daniel, whose gryffin snapped back.
Dorian raised an eyebrow. "That wolf talks more than half the professors."
Micah leaned toward Arthur, eyes sparkling. "If it bites you, do you turn into a Reeves-wolf hybrid? Because I would pay to see that."
"Micah," Vivienne sighed. "Now's not the time."
Arthur blinked. "Did she call you Alpha?"
"They all do." The wolf gave a tired huff. "Not my actual name. Just a title they throw around because I'm bigger, older, and smarter than the rest of them."
Arthur crossed his arms. "Alpha? Really? That's... painfully cliché."
The wolf growled. "If you want my real name, you'll have to earn it, twiglet."
"Tch. 'Twiglet'? That's your go-to insult?"
"You've got long limbs, weak shoulders, and a terrible center of gravity. The name fits."
The lynx, clearly enjoying the show, purred: "This is the most entertainment we've had in weeks."
"Can we focus?" Daniel's voice cut through the cold. He stood beside his gryffin, arms folded, grinning like he'd seen this a hundred times before. "Are you two befriending or bickering?"
"We are not befriending," Arthur and the wolf snapped at the same time.
The elk snorted. "Sure sounds like it."
Micah whispered loudly, "I ship it."
Dorian smacked the back of his head. "No, you don't. You don't even understand them."
Vivienne stepped up beside Arthur and gave him a knowing smile. "You do realize you're arguing with the transport, right?"
"I'm aware!" Arthur threw up his hands.
Daniel stepped between them. "Look, Alpha—"
"Don't call me that."
"Arthur needs a ride, and you're the only one who looks like you can make the upper path. Unless you want to sit this year out?"
The wolf's growl was low and long. "He'll fall off."
"I won't," Arthur said. "I've got great—"
He slipped on a patch of ice and nearly fell.
The lynx muttered, "This is going to be glorious."
Daniel stepped in again. "Either you carry him up, or I find a way to mount him on a broom and drag him like a flying sausage."
The wolf glared. Then let out a long, dramatic sigh. "Fine. But if he farts on my back, I'm throwing him into a snowbank."
As Arthur climbed onto the thick fur, he muttered, "I hope you shed."
Micah cupped his hands around his mouth. "Hold on tight, Twiglet!"
Just as the wolf rose with a reluctant huff, a low growl reverberated across the clearing. It came from the treeline—deep, resonant, like thunder rolling beneath the earth.
Snow cracked. Branches bent.
And then it emerged.
A bear. Towering, feather-shouldered, fur as black as midnight with streaks of silver down its spine. Its eyes glowed with faint golden rings, old and weighty as judgment itself.
It walked with purpose. Not toward the handlers, not toward Daniel or Arthur—but straight toward Liam.
Micah stepped back instinctively. "Okay, that's a bear. That is definitely a bear."
Dorian muttered, "Are we sure this is a transport and not a punishment?"
Vivienne's eyes flicked from the bear to Liam. "No reaction at all. Gods, he really might be colder than the ice kid."
Liam stood still, unreadable as always. His gloved hands remained calmly by his sides. If he was nervous, not even the bear could tell.
The beast stopped before him. Snorted once.
Then turned its head—toward Daniel.
"You," the bear said gruffly. "Interprete."
Daniel blinked, sighing. "Of course. Why not?"
Arthur, still astride the wolf, leaned forward. "It talks?"
"Most of them do," Daniel muttered. "You just don't usually want to hear what they're thinking."
The bear's golden gaze returned to Liam. "That one's too quiet. Too cold. His blood's thick with shadows."
Daniel translated aloud, voice casual. "She says you're cold and creepy. In a bear way."
Liam didn't flinch. "Is that a no?"
The bear blinked slowly. "Did he just say that?"
Daniel nodded.
The bear sat back on its haunches, huffing steam. "Most humans cower. That one's either brave or broken."
"He prefers 'efficient,'" Daniel offered.
The bear eyed Liam a long moment more. Then turned away, growling. "Fine. I'll take him."
Liam raised a single eyebrow. "That's it?"
Daniel shrugged. "You're not exactly chatty."
The bear gave a low snort. "If he broods too hard, I'm throwing him into a snowbank."
Micah whispered, "Can she growl at me too? For fun?"
Vivienne elbowed him.
Daniel turned to Liam. "She says you're approved. Grudgingly. Try not to be weird about it."
Liam moved toward the bear without hesitation and climbed up in one smooth motion, barely disturbing a snowflake. Once settled, the bear rose like a hill coming to life and padded toward the base of the slope.
Arthur watched them go, then glanced at Daniel. "Do you ever get used to it? Hearing them?"
Daniel smiled faintly. "Some of them are wise. Some are feral. Most just talk a lot of crap."
The wolf beneath Arthur huffed. "Especially this one."
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut it, Alpha."
Micah was the first to break from the group, practically skipping toward a low hill where ice-crystals shimmered like scattered glass. Waiting atop it was a sleek, pale creature—a frost fox, long-limbed and elegant, fur rippling like snow caught in a wind. Its tail curled lazily, but its eyes were alert, glowing faintly with pale blue fire.
Micah whistled. "Hey, buddy."
"Yo! Foxy!"
The fox didn't move—until Micah reached out a hand. Then, with a graceful bound, it circled him once, tapped his leg with its nose, and sat expectantly. Micah beamed like a child at a candy stand.
"Best. Creature. Ever."
Behind him, Dorian moved with far more precision, brushing snow from his dark sleeves as he approached the arcane crest etched into a nearby slab of stone. Resting there was his companion: a raven stag, feathers cascading down its neck like a mantle, antlers branching like obsidian glyphs. Its eyes were obsidian, flecked with violet arcane threads—alive with hidden meaning.
The stag dipped its head, not as a bow, but as an acknowledgment. Dorian returned the gesture without a word, the two of them mirroring one another in eerie synchronicity.
Vivienne hesitated before moving.
Her bond waited a little further away: a pale doe, almost translucent in the snowy light, marked with glowing sigils across her flank. Where she stepped, the snow didn't crunch—it whispered. The air around her shimmered like heat haze, but colder. Eyes half-lidded, distant, as if seeing things just beyond the veil.
Vivienne exhaled slowly and approached. The doe blinked once, tilted her head... then stepped forward, brushing her muzzle against Vivienne's shoulder with near ceremonial grace.
No words.
No need.
Arthur, still seated unsteadily on the wolf's broad back, watched them all in quiet awe.
Micah twirling dramatically as the frost fox chased his scarf. Dorian standing tall beside the silent, regal stag. Vivienne stroking the ethereal doe like they were always meant to meet. Liam—silent and steady—riding the bear like a king without a crown.
For a moment, Arthur felt painfully human. Just a skinny kid on a smug wolf with too many opinions.
The wolf turned its head. "Get ready, Twiglet. The mountain's steep, and I don't carry dead weight."
Arthur adjusted his grip. "You carry sarcasm just fine."
And with that, the ascent began.
The climb was steep now—snow swirling like whispers, thin air tugging at their lungs. Daniel's gryffin soared ahead in bursts, gliding from ledge to ledge with regal ease. Behind him, Arthur gripped the wolf's thick fur tighter as Alpha leapt effortlessly across a narrow ridge.
A sudden gust of wind howled around them, and Arthur turned instinctively—eyes scanning the slow-moving line behind.
That's when he saw her.
Vivienne.
She wasn't riding like the others. She was still. The doe she rode stood motionless on a high ridge, hoarfrost clinging to her hooves. Vivienne's gaze was distant, her expression hollow. Her mouth was slightly open, like she was listening to something only she could hear.
"Vivienne?" Arthur called.
She didn't react.
He turned fully, shifting dangerously on Alpha's back. "Vivienne!"
Her head jerked toward him. She blinked—twice—like waking from a dream. Then her eyes locked on his… and something shifted.
Tears shimmered there. Not from wind, not from cold. Real. Quiet. Heavy.
"I'm sorry, Arthur," she whispered. "For everything you will experience."
Arthur's heart stumbled. "What do you mean?"
But she said nothing else.
The doe resumed walking, head low, silent as snowfall. Vivienne followed—face unreadable, eyes forward—as if nothing had passed between them.
Arthur stared after her, the chill biting sharper than before.
"Did—?"
"Don't talk to me," Alpha grunted. "You're beneath me."
Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Physically and geographically, you are beneath me."
Alpha huffed. "And yet I'm still the one carrying you. Curious."
Arthur groaned. "You know, I liked you better when you were brooding."
"I'm still brooding. I just multitask."
The final leg of the climb cut sharper into the mountain's spine. The air turned thin and white, like breathing through cold silk. Snow howled in sideways gusts, but still they pressed forward—on claw, hoof, wing, and will.
Daniel's gryffin leapt over a boulder, its wings barely flaring as it landed with effortless grace on the next ledge. Behind, Alpha prowled through the snowdrifts with steady power, his heavy paws leaving deep tracks. Arthur clung tightly to the wolf's shoulders, shivering less from cold and more from what he'd just seen in Vivienne's eyes.
More students emerged in the distance, some from different paths. A few shimmered into view from enchanted portals carved into the mountainside—glyphs glowing briefly before snapping shut. Others rode in on sky-serpents or giant elk, their beasts bucking frost from their flanks. From the eastern face, a line of official carriages—drawn by winter-drakes—climbed the final switchback from where the enchanted train had deposited them hours earlier.
And then—just over the next ridge—they saw it.
Ilvermorny.
No fanfare. No grand gates. Just majesty.
The school rose like it had been poured from the stone of the mountain itself—towers of slate and obsidian wrapped in ivy, some glowing faintly with embedded runes. Chimneys puffed warm gold smoke into the grey sky. Windows blinked open like eyes as they passed, watching. Judging. Inviting.
Daniel dismounted first, running a hand through his gryffin's feathers before sending it off. Vivienne slid silently from her doe. No words. Just a look. A farewell.
Arthur grunted as he climbed off Alpha's back, stumbling slightly when his boots hit the snow-packed earth. The wolf stepped forward, shaking snow from its thick fur.
"Well," Arthur said, brushing snow off his coat, "this is the part where you leave, right?"
Alpha barely looked at him. "Finally."
"No need to sound so relieved," Arthur muttered.
The wolf turned, stepping downhill. "Don't talk to me again."
"Gladly."
They parted without ceremony—just brittle silence and shared irritation. Arthur turned toward the main steps of the school, adjusting the strap of his satchel as the northern wind tugged at his hair.
At the heart of the school, on a wide snow-packed terrace, was a large, rune-etched ring in the ice, encircled by elemental statues—Serpent, Catamount, Thunderbird, and Pukwudgie—each pulsing faintly with light.
As Arthur and Alpha stepped past the line of threshold wards, something snapped in the air—quick and clean, like the sound of a ribbon being pulled taut.
He saw the other Reeves up ahead, clustered just before the wide entryway of stone. Daniel, Vivienne, Dorian, Micah and Liam stood still—staring at Arthur, not moving.
Arthur frowned. "Why are we all just standing around? Is there something on my face." he asked as he approached.
No one answered.
Then—
He felt it.
A snap—not a sound, but a pull. Like something inside him had caught on an invisible thread. A warmth bloomed in his chest, slow and steady, pressing against his ribs like an expanding breath.
He gasped.
Time seemed to still. The snowfall thickened. The world blurred… until he saw it.
A faint golden line. A thread—spun from magic itself, pulsing gently. And it was coming from him.
Stretching out.
Down the path.
Back down the mountain.
To—
Arthur turned sharply.
Alpha stood there, halfway down the slope, frozen.
Staring at him.
Eyes wide. Ears flat. Muscles locked.
The golden thread hummed between them, bright and unmistakable.
"Alpha…?" Arthur whispered.
The wolf stumbled back a step, snarling. "No."
"W-what is this?"
Alpha let out a strangled sound. Not quite a howl. Not quite a whimper. "No, no, no. This isn't right. This shouldn't be—" He collapsed onto his side, pawing at the snow, jaws clenched in agony.
Arthur ran forward, the thread pulling tighter as he neared.
"Alpha!"
The wolf's breath came in short, painful bursts. "You don't understand. This wasn't meant to happen."
"Why does it hurt?" Arthur asked, kneeling beside him. "What do I do?"
"You bonded," a voice said from nearby.
Arthur turned. Daniel stood just outside the circle, one brow arched, arms crossed. His gryffin nuzzled his side proudly. "Took long enough."
"I bonded… with him?" Arthur pointed down in disbelief.
Alpha made a noise somewhere between a snarl and a sob. "I'm going to throw myself into the gorge."
"That's not recommended" Daniel said.
"I find this entire system problematic," Alpha muttered.
"You find everything problematic," Arthur snapped. "You sulk like it's a profession."
"It is a profession."
Another shimmer pulsed around them, and Arthur staggered slightly. A warmth had started to bloom in his chest—not affection, no—but understanding. A whisper of emotion not his own. Alpha's frustration. His pride. His loneliness.
"You feel that?" Alpha asked, ears twitching.
Arthur swallowed. "Yeah."
The two stared at each other.
Mutual horror.
Mutual disbelief.
"Congratulations, Twiglet. You've won the world's most reluctant companion."
Arthur gave a dry laugh. "You look like you just went through a magical exorcism."
"I feel like I've been run over by seven trolls and a flaming chariot."
"You okay?"
Alpha grumbled. "Ask me after a nap and six chickens."
The thread shimmered once more—a final pulse—then vanished from view.
"I don't like you," Arthur said quietly.
"I like you less," Alpha growled.
A student passed by riding a shimmering silver bear and gave them a thumbs-up.
"Congratulations on your bond!"
"Don't congratulate us!" they both shouted but it was only Arthur they could hear.
Elsewhere, students were dismounting from beasts or climbing out of glimmering portals. Some were stretching after long flights.
And somehow… he'd ended up with the most arrogant magical wolf to ever exist.