This floor was kind of... special. To access it from the elevator you had to press the “12” and “1” buttons simultaneously. It was technically the thirteenth floor, but in a college filled with magic and superstition nobody in their sane mind would want to spend their academic life on a floor carrying the unluckiest number in its name.
Not like calling it floor 12+1 helped at all. Students from this floor would get involved in unfortunate spellcasting accidents, go missing or become ancient curse magnets. Ultimately this unlucky floor was deemed too unsafe to serve as a living space for any regular student.
The floor got dusty and full of grime as time went on and on. Rumors and urban legends began to form, and some even began to doubt the magically hidden floor’s entire existence.
Eventually a utility for such an infamous place was found by Stonewood’s headmaster, Mr. Headmaster (from the noble Headmaster family) when the younger of his two sons (the less bright one) caught an unfortunate curse. The headmaster thus decided to reopen floor 12+1 as a floor to quarantine those suffering with curses that were a threat to others, a threat to themselves or whose curses were still under investigation.
Students who resided in the Floor of the Cursed Ones were still obligated to go to their respective classes in person but their peers would often talk about them and spread rumors behind their backs and even the faculty staff was greatly encouraged to keep a closer, stricter look at these problematic students.
Some of the cursed students complained about mistreatment, like those cursed into the forms of animals being treated like animals without human rights or inanimated students being used as nothing more than mere furniture. Of course, Mr. Headmaster denied these allegations.
“Here at Stonewood University we pride ourselves in providing an equal educational environment to people of all sorts of exotic and mythical races." Mr. Headmaster declared. "We are open to innovative ideas though so if you’re cursed to have the body of an animal we may study your mating habits, if you are 3 inch tall we may ask you to search hard-to-reach places, if your skin is see-through we may use your body as a live anatomical model and if you’re a desk we may use you as a receptacle for chewed bubble gum and so on but I assure you all, it’s always in the name of education.”
Right as the new school year began the floor was still dusty and full of grime (as janitors were too valuable an asset to waste on cleaning such a dangerous place full of troublesome weirdos) but the rooms of floor 12+1 were becoming more lively as more and more unlucky students got their pants caught up in a curse or two.
But the alarming recent increase in the number of “accidental” curses being spread out like candy wasn’t anything anybody should worry about. Surely.