The first day without normal classes began with work.

Harper considered this false advertising.

"They said lessons were finished."

Professor Ward handed her a pair of gardening gloves. "They are."

"This feels educational."

"That is unfortunate."

Service Day happened every year before Tidefall closed for summer. Students helped with whatever needed doing: cleaning shared rooms, checking equipment, sorting storage, packing supplies and preparing gardens for weeks with fewer people around.

It was not punishment.

Everybody did it.

The first-years chose supervised jobs from a board.

Harper selected harbour equipment before Jasper had finished reading the list.

Ava chose archive sorting.

Jasper looked at both of them.

For a moment, all three had the same instinct.

Same job.

Same place.

Then Harper said, "I'm doing harbour."

Ava said, "Archive."

Jasper smiled. "I'll do kitchens."

Harper stared at him. "Who are you people?"

They separated.

That, Jasper realised, was probably part of the point.

The kitchen job involved Chef Marlow, six first-years and enough shelves to make Jasper understand how Tidefall fed hundreds of people without anybody noticing the work behind it.

They checked dates, moved dry goods, counted sealed jars and separated summer storage from supplies that would remain ready for emergencies.

"Why do we keep so much food?" one child asked.

Chef Marlow looked toward the sea-facing wall.

"Because sometimes boats cannot reach us."

Simple.

No magic required.

During the storm, blankets, water and food had seemed to appear from nowhere.

They had not.

People had planned.

"Safety is boring before it matters," Chef Marlow said as Jasper labelled a shelf.

Jasper smiled. "Ava would like that."

"Ava likes anything in a labelled container."

"You know Ava?"

Chef Marlow gave him a look. "Everybody knows Ava."

Fair.

At morning break Jasper found Harper in the lower courtyard wearing a faded work vest much too large for her.

There was black grease on one cheek.

She looked delighted.

"Harbour?"

"Best job."

"What did you do?"

"Tested life rings. Checked ropes. Lowered the little cargo winch."

"Magic?"

"Hand crank."

Harper said this as though the hand crank had personally defeated magic.

Jasper held up the roll of pantry labels in his pocket.

"I counted lentils."

Harper looked genuinely sorry for him.

"Tragic."

Ava joined them carrying three archive folders.

"I found six records filed under the wrong year."

Harper looked at Jasper. "She's having the best day of her life."

Ava ignored her. "Also, an old maintenance ledger mentions a western cistern valve that is not on the modern map."

Harper's eyes lit up.

Ava immediately added, "I gave it to Professor Crowe."

The light went out again.

"We are not investigating?"

"No."

"What if it is secret?"

"It is probably a valve."

"That is what a secret valve would want you to think."

Jasper laughed.

After break, the three returned to their separate jobs.

Jasper packed sealed surplus food into donation boxes for a coastal community pantry. Harper helped clean and test harbour safety equipment. Ava finished the archive sort without opening a single file she was not authorised to read, which she privately considered a greater achievement than anyone else understood.

They met again near dinner.

Harper smelled like rope and machine oil.

Jasper smelled like flour.

Ava had a pencil behind one ear.

"Good day?" Jasper asked.

Harper said, "Obviously."

Ava nodded.

Jasper thought about how strange that would have sounded in first term.

Back then, being separated had felt like something had gone wrong.

Now they could spend a whole morning apart and return with different stories.

Nothing had been lost.

They were still Room Fourteen.

Just not only Room Fourteen.