The Great Hall buzzed with the energy of students as they settled into their seats for the new school year. Professor Alistair Blackthor, still an enigma to the majority, stood at the front of the hall, poised to begin his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
In the staff room, Minerva McGonagall exchanged glances with her colleagues. The air was charged with anticipation as they discussed the newcomer.
Minerva, her stern expression softened with curiosity, turned to Professor Flitwick. "What do we know about this Alistair Blackthor, Filius?"
Flitwick adjusted his spectacles, peering over the rim. "Not much, Minerva. Dumbledore vouches for him, but his background is shrouded in mystery. Quite an accomplished Occlumens, though."
Professor Sprout chimed in, "I heard he has a unique approach to teaching magical defense. It's as if he's seen things others haven't."
The conversation hushed as Snape, or rather Alistair, entered the room. The professors exchanged knowing glances, their unspoken questions lingering in the air.
Later, in the corridors, Minerva found herself walking alongside Alistair. "Alistair, may I have a word?"
He nodded, and they stepped into a quieter corner. "What can I help you with, Professor McGonagall?"
"Your teaching methods are... unconventional. I've never seen someone delve into the practical aspects with such intensity on the first day," Minerva remarked.
Alistair's gaze met hers, revealing a depth that hinted at experiences beyond the present. "These are troubled times, Minerva. Practical knowledge and preparation are essential. I'm here to ensure our students are well-equipped."
As Alistair walked away, the whispers in the corridors lingered. The first day of teaching had set the stage for a year of secrets and revelations, and Hogwarts itself seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.