There was no inkling at all of what was going to happen to him. For a wizard, Belaus had never been very good at divination and found it worked best in reverse.
Nothing ever happened the way he thought it was going to. Whatever anyone thought – or at least what he thought – that the future held, it did not. And whatever came his way and how situations worked out was always something that he could not imagine or predict. Always, something out of the blue – or out of the dark of night – surprised him.
Tonight he was going to close his bedroom door – forever – and work in peace. Slam it and bolt it tight against the corridor. Lock himself inside his room inside the house, seal the house inside the walls that pocketed the gardens inside the bustling city.

My feelings as I read your opener is that there are a lot of words that don't get the reader very deep into your story, and what you do have is confusing to me and creating emotional distance.

For instance, saying Belaus finds divination works best in reverse... what is that supposed to mean? Divination is prediction of the future. Does this mean he's got some spectacular hindsight skills? Hindsight doesn't take a wizard.

I gather from the next few sentences that he's not particularly good at his craft; he's unskilled and/or ill-prepared.

Saying he's going to close his bedroom door forever tells me he expects to die. Instead of pulling the reader in with that hook, you disengage the reader by going on about the doors, the house, a passing storm, rain, and other seemingly inconsequential things. You may be trying to set a mood or a tone with all of it, but the price you are paying is to distance your reader emotionally.

There was no inkling at all of what was going to happen to Belaus, because nothing ever happened the way he thought it would. As a wizard, divination was not his strength. Tonight, frustration had him thinking he was going to close his bedroom door – forever. And the storm beating agaisnt the shutters had him inspired as to how that just might be possible.
His room was high in the back, down the longest corridors with the most twists and turns, up all of the staircases and as far from his mother’s chambers as was possible. The walls in here were covered with books and more were piled into three of the corners. Chests were shoved anywhere they could fit, their lids weighted down with more tomes, and jars filled with things that made the house staff wince. “Unrecognizable but faintly disturbing contents,” his mother called them.

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There was no inkling at all of what was going to happen to Belaus, because nothing ever happened the way he thought it would.

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Who is your POV? Are you trying for Omni? Third person might work better for your audience. If it's Belaus's POV then this is a POV violation. On a personal NIT - I tend to shudder when people start this way. If it's unexpected don't tell me that - set me up with a predicable line of action and THEN suprise me right along with the MC.

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As a wizard, divination was not his strength. Tonight, frustration had him thinking he was going to close his bedroom door – forever.

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Why do I care that divination isn't his strength? I care that he's so frustrated that he is ready to spit nails. Tell me why he's frustrated and not what he can't do, unless he's trying a divination spell. If he is, tie the frustration into the lack of skill.

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And the storm beating against the shutters had him inspired as to how that just might be possible.

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While I like the imagry, you are withholding. WHAT might just be possible. You aren't creating a mystery you are just failing to give me something to care about.

Why are you describing the room in such detail? Get to the action.

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And in front of the fireplace, another storm in miniature spun on the floor.

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That caught my attention because I thought it related to the real storm but it was too late. I'd given up that we'd actually get back to the plot.

Try to stream line this even more. Based on what you have in the first paragraph I NEED to know why he's frustrated and what is happening. The room description can wait.

Frustration had Belaus slamming and locking his bedroom door, and he was going to keep it that way. Another year in training was more than he could stomach and mother would never pay the fees for it anyway. He could make the spells work, had done many, many times, just not when they wanted him too. Alone and without distractions he could cast any magic he wanted, so tonight he would make sure he was alone with the peace to work – forever. And the storm beating against the shutters had him inspired as to how that just might be possible.
He created another storm in miniature and set it spinning on the floor. Light itself twisted in a funnel as high as the ceiling, flashing colour from across the spectrum. No one would ever call him a failure again. He was a master here and had it constrained, a thousand doorways in one cyclone of energy!