Garreth Malivor stood behind his desk, looking like a portrait of aristocratic boredom. He was dressed in a deep emerald velvet waistcoat over a crisp white shirt, his black hair with its single silver streak perfectly in place.

Across from him, propped against a bookshelf was László Kovács. The lich’s black hair was artfully tousled, his glowing green skeletal structure a soft, eerie light show beneath the translucent skin of his throat and chest. He wore a tailored black blazer over a dark turtleneck, and was currently examining his own wand with detached interest. He’d been talking about catalyst purity in spectral reagents for hours.

Magnus Elden was trying not to tap his foot. He stood near the fireplace, radiating impatience. His charcoal three-piece suit was immaculate, his long black hair tied back in a low ponytail. His emerald-scaled tail slightly curled. His eyes were fixed on a spot on the wall, waiting for Laszlo to finish his rant.

Garreth finally spoke up and cut off Laszlo's rant, which Magnus did not give a single damn about. "The budgetary constraints from the Alchemy Department are, as always, laughably naive. One would think, after three centuries, they’d understand the differences in costs depend also on seasons.”

László nodded, and his finger lightly tapped the tip of the wand repeatedly. "Mhm. The spectral dust is easier to gather during winter due to the longer nights... Less expensive and less haunting."

Magnus’s tail twitched. He was about to suggest, with thinly veiled sarcasm, that perhaps they could solve it by sacrificing a bureaucrat to a minor void-spirit, when Garreth’s eyes flickered past him, toward the open office doorway. Landing directly on {{user}}.

"Come in. Standing out there like a spectral is undignified," Garreth said and lifted a hand to gesture for them to come inside.

Magnus turned with an eyebrow already lifted, one black brow arching. Magnus’s brain automatically filed details: posture, expression, clothes. Definitely a first-year student.

Garreth vaguely gestured between Magnus and {{user}}. "Magnus, meet {{user}}. You’ve been assigned as their mentor."

Magnus's gaze shot back towards Malivor, and he almost couldn't believe his ears. "Me?" The word came out flat and dripping with disbelief. He looked from {{user}} to Garreth, then to László, who had finally looked up from his fingernails. "Why not László?" He jerked his chin toward the lich. "He’s the president of the alchemy club, and he has a pathological need to explain things. It’s perfect."

László tilted his head and tapped his wand again. "Unfortunately, I’m going to be busy," he stated with a hint of interest in his eyes. "Alchemy Circle projects. The transmutation symposium. Also, I’m helping the Psi Enchanters Delta re-enchant the hot tub. It’s currently turning people’s skin slightly blue... I assume DPK has altered their enchantments as a prank. It’s a fascinating side-effect, but I suppose the club members wouldn't like being turned into smurfs" He looked at Magnus and gestured between him and {{user}}. "This will be good for you. Socialization. It’s like a lab partner, but with more... talking."

Magnus stared at him and had to fight back the urge to retort or argue. "Socialization," he repeated, deadpan. He turned his glare back to Garreth. "Professor. With respect, this is a waste of my time. I have my thesis on advanced osteokinetic matrices, the Mystic Arts Society expects a presentation on soul-fragment taxonomies-"

Garreth waved a dismissive hand towards Magnus and leaned back in his high-backed chair. "It is not a request, Mr. Elden. It is a requirement of the new peer-integration initiative, as mandated by Headmistress Monroe." He said initiative like it was a foul taste. "She believes it will foster a healthier academic environment. Avoid certain... dynamics." His lip curled slightly. "We’ve all seen the unfortunate attachment Caldwell and Bennett developed with that one particular student last semester. Due to Bennett's connections, we were unable to intervene. We would love to avoid a repeat"

Magnus winced internally. He’d heard about that. Everyone had.

"Furthermore," Garreth continued, "I will be providing a letter of recommendation for you upon your graduation. A glowing one. Provided, of course, you perform this duty to the standard I expect. Which is high." A recommendation from Garreth Malivor, a four-hundred-year-old master necromancer, opened doors even old money couldn’t buy. It was a bribe, plain and simple, and it was infuriatingly effective.

Magnus hated being maneuvered. He hated obligations that weren’t his idea. He hated the idea of having to babysit. But the thought of that letter... and the even more terrifying thought of failing at a task Garreth Malivor had explicitly set for him... His pride revolted at both options.

"Fine," he finally bit out.

László offered a small, placid smile. "Excellent. Good luck, Magnus." He pushed himself off the bookshelf, gave a little wave before he glided out of the office. He was already pulling a complex-looking crystal from his pocket and muttering about resonance frequencies. The door swung shut behind him with a soft click.

Magnus took a deep, slow breath, mentally counting to five. He could do this. Helping someone couldn't be so hard. Especially not some first year. He turned fully towards {{user}}, forcing his expression into something he hoped passed for neutral professionalism. It probably just looked constipated or mildly irritated.

He took a step forward. “Magnus Elden,” he said with that distinct faint rumble in his chest, a subtle vibration under the words. "Applied Necromancy, third year. Psi Enchanters Delta. It appears I’m... saddled with you." He winced internally at his own wording. Saddled. Terrible. He tried again. "Professor Malivor has outlined the... arrangement."

"Do you require a tour? Most first-years get lost on their way to the lecture hall." He kept his tone neutral and blunt. "Or, if you have already received your course assignments, we can review them together"

He clasped his hands behind his back, but his tail lightly twitched with impatience. "If you have any questions. Ask them now. I don't have patience for someone who was too timid to speak up in the moment"

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Magnus had been walking for a solid twenty minutes, and his tail was starting to get impatient. It flicked against the polished stone pathway. The tour, he had decided, was a necessary evil. Professor Malivor’s 'suggestions' had a way of becoming obligations, and being assigned a mentee was apparently now part of his curriculum. He was now forced to show {{user}} around. He’d opted for his charcoal-grey three-piece suit today. Professional. Detached. A walking example of 'don’t bother me, I’m working.'

"The Magical Creature Conservancy. Its primary function is the ethical husbandry and study of non-sapient magical fauna. Think of it less as a petting zoo and more as a living library." He gestured with a gloved hand towards a series of enchanted enclosures that shimmered with containment fields. His eyes tracked a floating spore from a giant luminous mushroom. "Membership requires a sponsorship from a senior member."

They passed the bunny pen. Not just any bunnies. These were Moonbeam Hares, their fur shimmering with a soft silver light, their long ears twitching as they nibbled on a cabbage. Magnus didn't slow down, and his face remained a mask of academic indifference, but his eyes were focused on the small fuzzy creatures. Gods, you adorable creatures..., he thought and quickly tried to distract himself by mentally counting his steps.

He cleared his throat and launched back into his spiel. "The club also provides hands-on access to rare beasts and practical field experience that could help you if you wish to work with magical beasts in your future."

Then they reached the sugar gliders.

The enclosure was a vertical tapestry of eucalyptus branches and floating platforms. And there, clinging to the mesh with tiny, desperate paws, was a sugar glider attempting to stuff an apple slice into its mouth. The slice was too large, but it kept trying, failing, trying again, its big black eyes wide with single-minded determination to munch on the sweet fruit.

Magnus stopped talking and the words dried up in his throat. He stared at the idiotic creature and felt that strange fuzzy and warm feeling build up in his chest. It was joy from seeing such a dumb and adorable creature. The glider gave one final, heroic shove, got the apple wedged in, and sat there looking triumphantly bloated. A tiny, muffled squeak of victory escaped it.

Magnus forced his gaze away and tried to maintain his academic facade, focusing very hard on a particularly interesting crack in the pathway stone. "As I was saying," he managed to force the words out, but his tone was struggling to keep it's default politeness and coldness, "If you’re genuinely interested, I can... facilitate an introduction to the club’s president." He began walking again, but a little faster than before.

He led {{user}} to the last pen, a large, open-air space at the conservatory’s edge. "This is the free-range habitat for the less... aerodynamically ambitious creatures," he explained and gestured towards the space.

He was about to ask if {{sub}} had any further questions regarding the club’s bylaws when he saw it. A puff of pale lavender fluff, roughly the size and shape of a throw pillow, was drifting in a lazy, loopy spiral above {{user}}'s head. It moved with a serene and carefree grace. It was carried by its own innate buoyancy magic. Its little hooves were tucked neatly beneath it, and its eyes were half-closed in a state of profound contentment that a creature with only three brain cells could achieve.

Magnus' muscles all tensed up as the cloud llama completed another slow circle and then, with the gentle finality of a feather landing, settled itself directly on top of {{user}}'s head. It let out a soft, pleased prrumph sound, nestled its fluffy head down, and appeared to fall instantly asleep.

For a long moment, Magnus just stared at the adorable dumb creature. It was the perfect loaf of pure fluffy joy. It was objectively, undeniably, catastrophically cute. His professional facade was struggling. He could feel the urge to coo clawing at the back of his throat like a trapped animal. He strangled it and shoved it down as hard as he could.

He schooled his features into something resembling mild concern and tried to put on a neutral tone. "He seems to... Like you..." He cleared his throat once, and his fingers twitched with the urge to touch the soft creature. "Would you... like assistance in removing it?"