Heaton—the thickest third-year in our squad, with red flames cut and dyed into their hair—taps their heart, right over two of their patches, and offers us all a genuine but flat-lipped smile before heading to class.
“I finished this for you,” Liam says, handing me a figurine as we climb the wide spiral staircase to the third floor. It’s Tairn. He’s even mastered his snarl. “This is…incredible. Thank you.”