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When Noctis crossed the vast Atlantic and finally reached Ilvermorny Castle, a fierce storm was raging over the school.
Forks of lightning writhed and danced within the heavy, lead-colored clouds, while thunder rolled like a great beast's roar that made the air itself tremble.
Through the sheets of driving rain and the howling wind, the raven cut its way across the storm without hesitation. Twice it was struck by lightning, yet it pressed on, unyielding, until it found its mark at the highest tower of the castle, where the head of Thunderbird House kept his office.
Inside, the office was spacious and solemn. On the wall hung a great totem of a thunderbird, its sharp eyes painted with such vivid power that they seemed to pierce straight through the stone. A roaring fire blazed in the hearth, casting golden light across the room and pushing back the chill of the stormy night.
Before the wide floor-to-ceiling window stood the gray-haired Thunderbird, gazing silently at the tempest outside.
When he finally heard the faint flutter of wings, he turned from the storm and walked toward a small window made for the arrival and departure of his avian messengers.
Noctis slipped through the opening with practiced ease. Rain clung to his sleek feathers as he landed upon a perch carved with intricate thunderbird patterns. He gave himself a firm shake, scattering droplets in all directions.
Thunderbird looked upon this raven from across the ocean, and a trace of gentle warmth softened his otherwise solemn face.
He stepped a few steps closer and extended his broad, weathered hand.
Noctis did not flinch. He allowed those steady fingers to brush lightly over his wet head feathers, the touch carrying a quiet tenderness, the kind that belonged to an old guardian greeting a trusted companion.
"You've worked hard, Noctis."
The elderly Thunderbird withdrew his hand and turned again toward the window. Beneath his calm gaze, even the restless storm outside seemed to soften its fury.
"Storms always pass," he murmured, his low voice clear even through the rumble of thunder.
At that, Noctis deftly loosened the small leather tube tied to his leg with its beak and pulled out a neatly rolled piece of parchment, holding it toward the Thunderbird.
The elder accepted it with steady hands, unrolled it, and let his eyes drift slowly across the lines, where several distinct handwritings intertwined upon the page.
After a long silence, he lifted his gaze from the parchment to the raven waiting patiently before him. A faint smile touched his face.
"Well then, don't worry…" he said, glancing again at the mixed scrawl of notes. "I have plenty in store."
He turned to his wide desk, opened a heavy drawer, and retrieved a sealed glass jar.
From it, he took a generous handful of mithril fragments that gleamed like tiny shards of moonlight. He placed them upon a clean tray and slid it toward the raven.
"You may eat your fill here. When the rain stops, you can be on your way."
Noctis' eyes brightened at once.
He hopped down from his perch onto the desk and began pecking eagerly at the tray of precious mithril fragments before him.
Each sharp tap echoed clearly through the room as the thunder faded away outside — tok, tok, tok — a crisp rhythm of hunger and relief.
He was truly starving!
This journey had been longer than any he had ever taken.
Even at Christmas, when he flew across the world delivering gifts and messages, he could still return midway to Hogwarts for a taste of Sargeras's "special" meals.
But this time was different. His route had taken him across the entire globe, and he would likely remain abroad for the whole summer, or perhaps even longer, until that cursed affliction upon Sargeras's body was finally lifted.
Though his body was no ordinary creature's, its core sustained by magic so that he did not need to eat to survive, the endless strain of high-speed flight still built up a deep fatigue that even spells could not erase.
While the raven was still absorbed in his silver feast, Thunderbird had already taken a seat behind his grand desk.
He reached for a quill made from an adult Thunderbird's tail feather, dipped it into ink, and in the empty space below the message on the parchment, wrote his reply in firm, confident strokes:
༺✧─────────────✧༻
All remains as usual here. There is no need for concern.
Noctis will rest and eat before he departs again. To prevent further hardship on the journey, he will carry some mithril fragments with him.
— Thunderbird
༺✧─────────────✧༻
Outside, the storm gradually subsided. The last drops fell from the eaves in a quiet rhythm, and the sound of students talking and footsteps echoing through the halls returned, breathing life back into the castle.
"It's about time, little one."
Thunderbird rolled up the parchment carefully, sealed it once more within its waterproof case, and fastened it securely to Noctis's sturdy leg.
Then he attached another small pouch, sewn from tough dragonhide and filled to the brim with the heavy glitter of mithril fragments.
"Take these with you. That should keep you from worrying about your 'ration' along the way."
He gave the raven's back a gentle pat, his voice warm. "Give him my regards."
Noctis gave a short, low caw in reply, a sound that carried both acknowledgment and resolve.
He stayed upon the perch for a moment, as if gathering his strength, perhaps also saying farewell.
Then he spread his black wings, still glistening faintly with the moisture of the storm, and launched himself through the open window into the cool, damp air beyond, resuming his long and arduous journey around the world.
---
Brazil, Rio de Janeiro. International Floo Network Coordination Office
Noctis descended directly before the vast control center of the coordination office.
Inside, the entire hall blazed with light. At its center stood a massive three-dimensional model that occupied almost half the room. It rotated slowly, showing a detailed map of the world with every Floo Network node clearly marked.
Countless fine beams of light flashed and shifted across the model, linking and separating in endless motion until they formed a living web of light that pulsed across the globe.
At the heart of the model, Robin stood before the central console, humming a lively samba rhythm while her body swayed lightly in time with the flicks of her wand.
She was the senior coordinator of the Floo Network, and her wand never stopped moving. With quick, practiced gestures, she adjusted any beam of light that flickered too fast or showed signs of congestion, keeping the network of magical travel flowing smoothly across continents.
"Ah-ha! Noctis, you're here!"
Catching sight of the raven landing on the edge of the control console, she immediately flashed a bright smile.
Her movements didn't falter for even a second, the tempo of her spellwork as smooth as the music she hummed.
"Give me just a moment, darling. Let me clear up this little rush over London's evening traffic first..."
With a few graceful arcs of her wand, several red glowing points of congestion turned green, the light flowing easily once again through the intricate network.
"There! All done!"
Robin set her wand aside and hopped cheerfully closer to Noctis, her eyes full of curiosity as she glanced at the leather tube and the mithril pouch tied to his legs.
"I heard a while back that some of them were struck by a nasty curse, right?"
She took the rolled parchment from the raven's beak and unrolled it as she spoke, her tone light and conversational.
Of course, she didn't really expect an answer. Noctis could be clever when he wanted to be, but most of the time he was greedy, slow, and frankly rather dim.
When her eyes finished scanning the contents of the parchment, understanding dawned at once.
"So you're still on a grand world tour this timer!" she said with a teasing grin. "Stopped by the Thunderbird first, huh? Judging by that pouch, I'd say you got quite the reward."
She untied the small dragonhide pouch from his leg and peeked inside, only to find it completely empty.
Her brow lifted slightly. To make sure her suspicion wasn't misplaced, she took the pouch in hand and examined it carefully, but there wasn't the faintest tear or hole.
"You ate all of it?" she asked, astonishment slipping into her voice. The raven merely stared back at her, perfectly motionless.
"Honestly…"
She sighed, then grabbed a spare quill from the console and, with bold, sweeping strokes, wrote her reply on the blank space of the parchment:
༺✧─────────────✧༻
All is normal!
P.S. Noctis's ration pouch is empty.
༺✧─────────────✧༻
The moment her quill left the parchment, the massive three-dimensional model before her flared suddenly. Across its glowing surface, the red lights that marked congestion blazed to life all at once.
"Damn it!"
Robin hissed and reacted instantly. She snatched up the parchment, rolled it tight, stuffed it into a leather tube, while simultaneously shouting toward the magical speaking funnel that linked to the office next door.
"Loy! Shift every mainline load under my name to your network right now! I've got a mess over here that needs sorting!"
"Got it!" came Loy's brisk reply.
Almost as soon as the words fell, the web of glowing lines on the sand table dimmed, colors fading into calm.
The pressure dropped. Robin finally exhaled and wiped away a nonexistent bead of sweat from her forehead.
She turned to the patiently waiting raven, Noctis, and with a playful wink, her face broke into a lighthearted grin. "Crisis averted."
Then, like a stage magician pulling a trick from her sleeve, she reached into her uniform pocket and produced a small crystal vial filled with shards of silvery metal that sparkled like cut diamonds.
"Here, I've got some snacks too. Energy for the road."
She unscrewed the cap and poured the precious pieces of refined mithril into the deflated dragonhide pouch.
Noctis tilted his head, watching the bag plump up again, and let out a low croak that almost sounded grateful.
Leaning against the console, Robin chuckled, speaking to the raven as though he were an old friend.
"Sigh, three hours every day staring at this blasted sand table. My eyes are going to turn square one of these days. Earning a few Galleons shouldn't be this hard."
"Caw!"
"What really drives me mad is my dear superior."
She rolled her eyes, mimicking someone's lazy drawl. "Spends all day holed up in his fancy office, thick carpet, velvet chairs, doing nothing but reading The Witch Weekly or the day's paper. Then once in a while, he drags himself out just to wave his hands around and give the dumbest orders imaginable. I swear, one of these days I'm going to hex that shiny bald head of his."
"Caw!"
"Good thing I've got a few even more miserable coordinators under me," she continued with a touch of smugness. "When things get really busy, I can quietly toss a bit of the work their way. Otherwise, I'd be passed out on this console by now."
"Caw!"
"But still, they move so — painfully — slow! A task that takes me half an hour somehow drags into three hours for them. Their efficiency could drive anyone insane. And when I finally feel like yelling at them, I see those bloodshot eyes of theirs, and I can't even stay mad. Poor souls…"
"Caw!"
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[Chapter End's]
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