During Transfiguration that afternoon, his vision blurred for a moment, then returned to normal. He did not go to the infirmary or tell anyone. He did not know what it was, but he could smell it: there was an exceedingly fine boundary between that scent and the glaze on the inside of the soup bowl.
Combat class was compulsory and held in an outdoor sandpit. When Aqion Academy's top student was assigned as his opponent, the first two rounds were merely probing. The pressure began in the third. When his sweeping kick struck Cass's ankle, it carried roughly three times the force required by the instructor's standards. Cass's calf remained sore and swollen through the next two classes.
He did not make it too obvious. When he walked, he let his left leg bear slightly less weight than his right, but he could still feel a stabbing pain in his left ankle, as if it were fragile glass.
Another threat appeared at night. Several younger roommates from his own academy repeatedly cast the Suffocation Curse outside the curtains of his bed after he fell asleep. The curtains weakened the spell, but it was just strong enough to jolt him awake from his dreams, leaving him gasping painfully in the dark, desperately trying to regain his breathing rhythm.
On the third night, someone pressed a wet towel over his mouth and nose from behind. He took longer than usual to wake up. By the time he struggled into a sitting position, the towel had already been snatched away and tossed at the foot of the bed, like a wrinkled piece of clothing that had not been put away in time.
He sat at the edge of the bed, folded the towel neatly, and placed it by his pillow. He did not