As the lesson with Mr. Sand came to an abrupt and anticlimactic end, the heavens decided to stage their own dramatic finale. A torrential downpour began without warning, the kind of rain that seemed less like weather and more like the sky having an emotional breakdown. Mr. Sand barely managed to shout a brusque dismissal before we were scrambling down the school corridors, umbrellas deploying like shields against an invisible enemy. The rain lashed through open windows, as if it had been personally offended by our presence indoors.

Samiro, as always, was the first to vocalize her outrage. "Oh, come on!" she cried, hopping indignantly as a rogue splash of rainwater soaked her favorite sneakers. Her expression was equal parts horror and betrayal, as though the universe had chosen her specifically to punish.

By some unspoken agreement, we gathered beneath the bus shelter just outside the school gates, huddling together under its laughably inadequate roof. The rain drummed against the metal above us with such vigor it felt like nature's very own percussion concert. Samiro, seemingly resigned to her soggy fate, fished her phone out of her bag. "Hold on," she said, dialing her mom with an urgency that suggested she was summoning a rescue team for a full-scale disaster. Her conversation was brief, punctuated by a relieved sigh as she confirmed their ride was en route.

Not long after, her mother's car pulled up, its headlights cutting through the curtain of rain like twin beacons of salvation. Samiro motioned for me to join her, but something deep within me resisted. Perhaps it was stubbornness, or perhaps it was the faint whisper of something I couldn't yet name. "I'll walk," I said, with a confidence that surprised even me. Samiro gave me a look that bordered on incredulous but ultimately didn't argue. "Suit yourself," she said, her tone half amused, half concerned. Moments later, the car disappeared into the deluge, leaving me alone beneath the shelter.

Or so I thought.

It wasn't long before I noticed something... strange. Though the rain continued its relentless onslaught, I remained untouched. My clothes, my skin—everything about me was inexplicably dry. The rain fell around me in a perfect circle, as though some unseen force had deemed me exempt from its fury. I stepped out from under the shelter, testing the phenomenon, and sure enough, the rain curved away from me, droplets swerving in midair like tiny, obedient acrobats.

I held out my hand, expecting to feel the cold splash of water on my palm. Instead, my hand remained dry, the rain refusing to make contact. I took a cautious step forward, then another, and still the rain danced around me in its peculiar, defiant pattern. A peculiar thrill coursed through me, part wonder, part unease. What was happening?

"Ah, I see you've stumbled upon the art of rain shielding," came a voice, deep and resonant, from behind me.

I spun around so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet. There, standing just beyond the reach of my inexplicable dry bubble, was a man whose very presence seemed to command attention. He was tall—ridiculously tall—and dressed in robes that looked like they'd been stolen from the costume department of a high-budget fantasy film. His long white beard cascaded down his chest like a waterfall of snow, and his twinkling eyes held a mischief that reminded me of stories told by mischievous grandparents.

"Mr. Dumbledore?" I blurted, my voice tinged with equal parts disbelief and excitement. He really did look the part—right down to the twinkle in his eye.

The man chuckled, a warm, rolling sound that felt like it could fend off the chill of the rain. "Not quite," he said, his smile kind but knowing. "Though I take the comparison as a compliment."

He extended a hand toward me, and I noticed with some astonishment that, like me, he remained completely untouched by the rain. His hand was dry, warm-looking, and steady, as though he'd never so much as heard of precipitation.

"My name," he said, "is Mr. Castellanos. And I believe you're ready to begin unraveling the mysteries of your magic."

Magic. The word lingered in the air like a spark waiting to ignite. My heart raced as I stared at him, caught between disbelief and an overwhelming sense of anticipation. Whatever was happening, I had a feeling my life was about to change forever.