Tidefall's first parent weekend transformed the academy. The dining hall became louder. The courtyards filled with adults pretending not to stare at everything magical. First-years who had acted completely independent for two months became seven years old again the instant they saw familiar faces. Jasper ran. He did not mean to. His mother had barely reached the top of the harbour stair when Jasper forgot every cool thing he might have done and threw both arms around her. She laughed into his hair.

"Hello to you too."

His father put the overnight bag down.

"He remembers us. Good start."

Jasper hugged him next. The three of them stood in Founders' Courtyard while arriving families moved around them. For a moment Tidefall felt like a place Jasper had borrowed rather than his real life. Then Harper appeared.

"Jasper!"

She ran toward them dragging a smaller boy by the hand.

"This is my brother. He says I look like a potato."

The boy said, "You do." The windows. The wardrobe. The emergency notice. Bag Bed. She stopped. Harper's mum followed, apologising for nothing in particular. Ava arrived with both parents and immediately began explaining the most efficient route through the academy. Within five minutes the three families had become one moving crowd. Jasper showed his parents Room Fourteen first. His mother inspected the bed.

"What happened here?"

Harper answered proudly.

"History."

Jasper's father picked up the west-stair pebble.

"I see."

"Don't move that," Harper said.

He put it back immediately. They toured Foundations. Jasper demonstrated the one-centimetre cloth movement. His mother clapped. He turned red. His father asked whether the exercise got more impressive later. Professor Elowen, passing the doorway, said, "Only if they learn this part properly." They visited the library. Soren's mother had to remove two books from his bag because parent weekend was not apparently intended for smuggling additional reading to the dorm. They ate lunch outside because the autumn sun had returned. For almost three hours, Jasper forgot the sea entirely. Then his mum said quietly, "Show me where that class was." Ocean Studies. Jasper hesitated. He knew what she meant.

"We can't go down without a teacher."

"Then show me from somewhere safe."

He took his parents to the western overlook in Founders' Courtyard. The observation terrace was visible far below. His mum held the wall with both hands.

"That is a lot of cliff."

His father looked over.

"Good wall."

"Stop."

Jasper laughed. Then his mum looked at him.

"Your letters sound calm."

"I am calm."

"I didn't say you weren't."

She leaned against the wall, back to the sea.

"But you keep writing about something nobody understands."

Jasper looked down.

"Thorne doesn't think I'm in danger."

"Does he know?"

"He knows some old stuff happened."

"That's not what I asked."

Jasper wished his mum was easier to answer.

"He doesn't know exactly."

Her mouth tightened.

"And you?"

"I don't either."

"Are you scared?"

Jasper thought about the dream. The lower door. The tunnel image.

"Sometimes."

His mother nodded. No telling him not to be. No saying it was fine.

"Then promise me scared doesn't become secret."

Jasper looked at her.

"What?"

"People hide things because they think worry is a problem they need to solve for everyone else. It isn't. If you're frightened, tell us. Tell teachers. Tell your friends."

Jasper looked toward Harper and Ava across the courtyard. Harper was showing her brother how to bounce a handball off three walls. Ava was explaining to her father why the courtyard drains were unusually efficient.

"I do."

"Good. Keep doing it."

His dad stepped beside them.

"Also don't jump off anything."

Jasper stared.

"I wasn't going to."

"Excellent. Our parenting is working."

His mum rolled her eyes. Later, Thorne met Jasper's parents in the administration hall. Jasper wanted to disappear. Adults talking about you while you stood beside them was unbearable. Thorne did not speak as if Jasper were not there. That helped.

"The experiences are unusual," he said. "We have increased observation around Jasper's coastal lessons. He has not shown signs of magical harm or loss of control."

His mum asked, "Could whatever this is hurt him?" Thorne paused.

"Anything powerful can hurt someone under the wrong circumstances. I won't promise impossibility."

Jasper's father looked at him carefully.

"And what are you doing about that?"

"Making sure he is not alone with it. Restricting access where appropriate. Reviewing old records. And teaching him that sensing something does not make him responsible for answering it."

Jasper recognised his own lesson. His mum said, "Thank you for not telling me everything is fine." Thorne's mouth twitched.

"Parents rarely believe that sentence anyway."

The weekend ended too quickly. At the harbour stair, Jasper's mother hugged him again. His father handed him a small paper bag.

"Emergency supplies."

Inside were two sausage rolls wrapped for later and a packet of fairy bread triangles his mother pretended not to know about. Jasper laughed.

"That's not going to last."

"Hide it from Harper."

"Impossible."

They boarded the family boat. Jasper stood on the dock with Harper and Ava while the vessel moved away. A hollow feeling opened in his chest. Harper nudged him.

"Room?"

Jasper nodded. Back in Fourteen, they ate the fairy bread. Harper discovered it within thirty seconds. Ava called this predictable. Jasper wrote his parents that night even though it was not Sunday. Had a good weekend. Miss you already. I'm okay. Then he added: Scared isn't secret. I remember. He folded the letter. Outside, the sea moved under moonlight. The presence did not appear. Jasper was grateful.