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He wore a finely tailored noble suit, deep midnight blue with silver embroidery tracing intricate patterns along the lapels and cuffs, each stitch catching the eye with a subtle shimmer.

His suit jacket was buttoned neatly over a white, silk waistcoat that had subtle hints of silver threads woven through.

The attire was a testament to wealth and refinement, and he held a walking cane, its dark wooden shaft polished to a high sheen, though it was clear that he wielded it more as an accessory than for support.

Beside him, a woman descended from the carriage with graceful precision.

Her blonde hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, accentuating her fair complexion and striking black lashes that framed piercing yellow eyes.

She wore a high-necked dress of rich emerald green, perfectly fitted to her slender figure.

Her sleeves, long and flowing, ended in delicate lace cuffs, and the gown\'s fabric caught the light with a subtle gleam.

She moved with poise, the kind that was cultivated from years of noble bearing, her steps deliberate and unhurried.

Together, they were a portrait of aristocratic elegance.

They were led by a small group of academy guards, who escorted them to the administration block.

The two followed silently, their expressions composed but with a hint of anticipation clouding their refined faces.

As they walked through the ancient halls of Ravenwood, the sound of their footsteps echoed against stone walls adorned with tapestries and portraits of past alumni.

Soon, they reached the heavy wooden doors of Professor Sharon\'s office, where they were greeted by an attendant who gestured for them to enter.

Professor Sharon rose from behind her desk as they entered.

Her warm gaze met theirs, and she offered a courteous nod.

"Please, come in. You must be Amon and Margaret Ashbourne," she said, motioning to the chairs in front of her desk.

"It\'s an honor to meet you both."

The man nodded, removing his hat and holding it in one hand as he inclined his head.

"Thank you, Professor.

I am Amon Ashbourne, and this is my wife, Margaret."

Margaret offered a faint smile, nodding in acknowledgement, her eyes scanning the room before settling on the professor.

"We received a letter about our son, Noah," Amon continued, "and felt it was only proper to visit his patron and professor."

Professor Sharon\'s expression softened.

"When did you receive this letter, Mr. Ashbourne?"

"Just yesterday," he replied.

"We dropped everything to come immediately. I must confess, the wording was vague, which only heightened our concern. Is everything all right with our son?"

A visible shadow passed over Professor Sharon\'s face.

She took a deep breath before responding, her voice careful and measured.

"Mr. and Mrs. Ashbourne… I regret to inform you that your son, Noah Ashbourne, was expelled from Ravenwood a week ago."

For a moment, silence enveloped the room, broken only by the ticking of a clock on the wall.

The words seemed to linger, suspended in the air.

Margaret\'s face paled, and her hands clenched tightly around the handkerchief she held.

"Expelled? Noah was expelled?"

Her voice trembled, rising in pitch as her composure cracked.

"But… but he never came home!

If he was expelled, he would have come home.

What happened to him, Professor? Why wasn\'t this communicated to us immediately?"

Professor Sharon\'s gaze lowered, her tone sympathetic yet firm.

"I understand your frustration, Mrs. Ashbourne. I assure you, we take matters of communication very seriously.

The decision to expel Noah was not taken lightly, and a letter was sent as soon as possible to inform you.

I apologize if there was any delay in its arrival."

Margaret let out a small, anguished cry, her composure crumbling entirely.

Tears filled her eyes, spilling over as she leaned forward, clutching the armrests of her chair.

"But why? Why was he expelled?

What could he have done to warrant such drastic action?"

With a somber expression, Professor Sharon opened a drawer and pulled out a thick, bound document.

"Here is the record," she said, sliding it across the desk toward them.

"This file contains a detailed account of the events leading to Noah\'s expulsion, including the rules he is alleged to have broken."

Amon\'s eyes narrowed as he took the document in his hands.

He flipped it open, his gaze quickly scanning the first few pages before his face twisted in incredulity.

His grip on the pages tightened as he read further, the lines of text painting an increasingly damning portrait of his son\'s actions.

Margaret looked over his shoulder, her hand pressed to her mouth, her eyes wide with disbelief as she skimmed through the accusations—misuse of forbidden spells, violation of academy code, repeated insubordination.

Each word seemed to hit her like a physical blow.

"This… this can\'t be true," Amon said, his voice barely above a whisper before it rose, filled with anger.

"My son was set up. Someone must be framing him!

Noah would never involve himself in something like this."

Professor Sharon held up a hand, trying to calm them.

"Mr. Ashbourne, I understand how difficult this is.

Noah was one of my favorite students; he has always shown remarkable promise and talent.

Believe me, I wanted to believe that it wasn\'t true. But every piece of evidence we found pointed to his involvement. We conducted a thorough investigation."

"Your investigation?

Amon repeated, his voice trembling with barely restrained fury.

"And what if your so-called investigation was flawed? What if someone deliberately planted this evidence?

Don\'t you think, as his teacher, you would know him better than to believe such outrageous claims?"

Professor Sharon looked at them with sadness in her eyes.

"I wanted to believe in his innocence, truly I did. But the council conducted its own separate investigation and came to the same conclusion. There was no escaping the evidence, no alternate explanation."

Margaret fell silent, the full weight of the situation pressing down on her as she slumped back in her chair. .net

Her face was etched with grief, her eyes wide and brimming with tears as she stared blankly ahead.

Her voice was barely a whisper as she muttered, "If he didn\'t come home… then…"

She trailed off, her hand flying to her mouth as the dreadful realization took hold.

The possibility they hadn\'t dared to voice—the horrible, unimaginable thought that had lurked in the darkest corners of their minds—now seemed almost inevitable.

"Noah…"