The annual school season arrived as scheduled. Platform 9 and 3/4 was bustling with students and parents, the air filled with a chorus of excited voices interwoven into a lively scene.
"A nostalgic sight," Wes mused. Years ago, he had been among these students, but now he boarded the Hogwarts Express not as a student, but as a professor. The realization stirred a deep sense of emotion within him.
Moving with quiet composure, Wes entered the single compartment reserved for professors. As the door closed behind him, an invisible barrier seemed to silence the commotion outside. Presumably, some form of soundproofing magic had been cast upon it.
Satisfied, Wes settled in and swiftly retrieved his notes, immersing himself in study. His quill danced across the parchment, filling the pages with meticulous observations and annotations.
A low whistle echoed through the station as steam billowed from the locomotive's chimney. With a gentle lurch, the train departed, carrying its passengers toward Hogwarts, a vessel of anticipation and wonder.
Just as Wes was fully engrossed in his work, a sharp knock at the door interrupted his concentration.
Frowning slightly, he lifted his gaze with mild irritation. "Come in."
The door creaked open, revealing two young students—a boy and a girl—standing hesitantly at the entrance.
The boy shrank behind the girl, trembling slightly, his head lowered as if trying to disappear entirely. The girl, more composed, took a small step forward, though the sight of an unfamiliar adult in a professor's compartment gave her pause.
"Sir, have you seen a toad? Neville's toad has gone missing."
Neville tugged at her sleeve and whispered anxiously, "Hermione, he must be a Hogwarts professor. We should be respectful."
"Excuse me, sir," Hermione corrected herself before her eyes flicked to the parchment on the table. Excitement sparked in her expression. "Sir, are you studying magic? That's amazing! I've never seen real magical research before—can I—?"
Her words tumbled out in rapid succession, a barrage of questions fueled by uncontainable enthusiasm.
Wes sighed, feeling a headache approaching. He raised a hand to interrupt her. "Miss, I don't even know your names yet."
"Oh! I'm Hermione Granger, and this is Neville Longbottom. We're both first-years."
Wes nodded briefly. "Miss Granger, I haven't seen the toad. As you can see, I'm occupied. If you'd be so kind as to close the door on your way out, I'd appreciate it."
Understanding the dismissal, Neville quickly tugged Hermione's sleeve. With unexpected agility, he ushered her out and hastily shut the door behind them.
Hermione huffed. "Honestly! How can someone so indifferent be a professor?"
Neville, wisely, chose to remain silent and followed her down the corridor.
With the interruption over, Wes resumed his studies until the train finally pulled into the station. Disembarking with purposeful strides, he made his way to Hogwarts and soon arrived at his office on the seventh floor—a modest yet impeccably arranged space.
He unlatched his suitcase, and Zandi emerged smoothly.
"I've spoken with Headmaster Dumbledore. You are free to move about Hogwarts, but you must not disturb other professors or students."
"Understood, Master," Zandi responded dutifully.
Wes donned a fresh robe and inspected himself in the mirror. Satisfied with his appearance, he nodded. "I must attend the opening ceremony. Keep things in order here."
The Great Hall of Hogwarts was as grand as ever. The towering enchanted ceiling reflected the vast night sky, shimmering with countless stars like a cosmic tapestry. Four massive tables stretched the length of the hall, filled with students buzzing with anticipation.
Portraits of past headmasters lined the walls, their painted expressions seemingly alive, observing the proceedings with quiet wisdom. The polished marble floor gleamed like a mirror, reflecting the flickering light of hundreds of floating candles.
House banners adorned the corners of the hall—Gryffindor's bold red, Slytherin's deep green, Ravenclaw's elegant blue, and Hufflepuff's warm yellow. They swayed gently, as if carried by an unseen breeze.
As Wes took his place among the professors, murmurs rippled through the hall.
"Who is he?"
"Obviously a new professor. Look, he's sitting with the staff."
"He's so young and handsome!"
A cluster of young witches exchanged excited whispers, their eyes filled with admiration.
Professor Flitwick, barely containing his excitement, tiptoed eagerly, attempting to embrace Wes. Unable to reach, he settled for a warm pat on the arm.
"Long time no see, Professor." Wes greeted with a small smile.
Flitwick beamed. "Oh, my brightest student returns to Hogwarts as a professor! How does it feel?"
"It's wonderful," Wes admitted. "I always longed to return."
A familiar, slow drawl cut through the moment. "I question whether you'll be a competent professor, Mr. Irwin."
Snape's presence was as commanding as ever, his voice laced with his signature sarcasm.
"Oh, pay no mind to Snape," Flitwick laughed. "You'll do splendidly."
The other professors, many of whom had taught Wes, welcomed him warmly. His return was a moment of genuine joy for them.
Wes was then introduced to Professor Quirinus Quirrell, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. The man's purple turban emitted a peculiar odor, subtly repelling those around him. However, he seemed wholly preoccupied in a hushed conversation with Snape.
At that moment, the grand doors swung open, and the first-year students filed in, eyes wide with wonder. At the center of the hall sat the Sorting Hat, which promptly broke into a spirited song.
Its peculiar tune, however, was far from melodious.
Thus, the annual Sorting Ceremony commenced. Nervous whispers and awkward stumbles filled the hall as the new students took their turns. Yet, this year, all eyes were drawn to a singular figure—the Boy Who Lived.
When the Sorting Hat finally declared "Gryffindor!" for Harry Potter, the house erupted into wild cheers, nearly shaking the castle foundations. Even Professor McGonagall allowed herself a proud smile, while Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with satisfaction. Snape, however, looked distinctly displeased.
Wes, unfazed by the spectacle, remained absorbed in quiet observation. When the school song began, each student singing to their own tune, he resisted the urge to block his ears with a spell.
After Dumbledore's welcome speech and the introduction of the new professors, the students eagerly indulged in the grand feast.
As the evening concluded, Wes exhaled softly.
He never did enjoy large, noisy gatherings.
Fortunately, the subject he taught wasn't widely popular. Fewer students meant a quieter classroom.
And for that, he was truly grateful.