“Nooo…It can’t be morning already…”

“I’m afraid it is. Up and at ‘em–come on!”

Henry savored the taste of the new morning's Pillow Attack. It smelt faintly of Pomeg-scented shampoo.

The sun’s benevolent rays shimmied through the window; a horde of Ledyba could be heard whipping their wet wings beyond the glass. The stuffy air of a room shared between two blossoming young men was rank and sour. The second morning had dawned.

Henry scrubbed the bags from his eyes. He whipped his head to the silver, heavily dented alarm clock atop Percy’s clothes drawer. “We’re early!” he shouted, half-relieved, half-pissed.

“That’s right.” Percy strutted to the door, squeezing a firm hold of the knob. “The Early Bird gets the Wurmple.” He swung it open and stopped mid-stride when he noticed two fat parcels waiting to trip him.

He bent down and took one into his hands. “Says it’s for you.” He flung the Mysterious Parcel to Henry; it slapped right into his lap.

Henry read over the address tag.

Henry Galileo. First Year. Size: Medium. Room 368-B-1.

He ripped it open at the same time Percy tore into his.

“Aww, what?! The hell is this supposed to be?!” Percy dangled a black blazer, trimmed around the breast-folds with a shimmering bronze-colored material. “Surely they don’t expect us to wear these?!”

Henry held his own up to the light. Every wave of the spectrum danced and played off the bronze lining, making the uniform gleam like a freshly minted cent. “I kind of like it! It’s classy~”

“More like tacky…Couldn’t even be bothered to stitch the Emblem properly…”

Henry rubbed at the shiny Universty Emblem adorning the left of the blazer’s chest. It was smooth–sleek; the Heavenly Serpent had never shone so radiantly. “Again, I think it's got class.”

“Of course you’d say that, farm boy…At least we have our I.D. Cards now.”

Henry admired the coat of gloss protecting his embarrassing photo from the harm of deathly elements; he knew he shouldn’t have tried to smile…

There was another card to go along with the I.D. It was attached to the back, practically glued on. It took one nail and more force than necessary to cleave the two from one another’s grasp.

This second card was covered in a series of boxes–counting down by 10 from 300 to 200 in the first row, 190-100 in the second row, and 090-000 in the third row. The box initiating this pattern–the one marked “300”–had a bold but barely noticeable tick mark. 

“What’s this for?” Henry asked.

“You seriously didn't read a single book, did you?” Percy berated. “These are our Credit Cards. They’re a neat little currency we get to use in the stores here on Campus. Think of them as ‘Points’.” 

Henry smiled at his card. “300 must mean we’re rich, right?”

“Ummm, no? Have you seen the shops? 300 Credits might land you a few outfits, a night of dinner, and maybe a Bronze Ball–all thanks to every purchase being rounded to the nearest ten. Certainly not a sum large enough to stretch until the next quarter.” Percy flipped his own Card between his fingers. “But, I have heard rumors that even First Years like us can earn a little extra Credit through academic achievement and helping out around Campus. I believe certain School Events also dish out Credits as prizes and rewards, sometimes–but don’t quote me on that.”

Henry slipped both his I.D. and the Credit Card into the breast pocket of his new blazer. He admired the dress shirt, silky black pants, and black tie that were bundled with to complete the set.

After a quick morning fresh up, he stood before a vanity in the bathroom. With these glimmering trims and Emblem shining proudly on his chest, he was officially a student at St.Leonora’s Institute of Astral & Soul.