The soft golden rays of early morning sunlight filtered through the window, casting a warm glow on the wooden desk. Wes sat there, staring intently at the course schedule in his hands, his lips curling into a satisfied smile.
Sure enough, just as his research had suggested, Magic Patterns was an incredibly unpopular subject. Fewer than thirty students had chosen to enroll, and only three lessons were scheduled per week. It was exactly what he had hoped for.
He drummed his fingers rhythmically against his legs, a grin stretching across his face as he muttered, "Perfect."
Yet, despite his delight at the light workload, Wes had no intention of neglecting his responsibilities. Unlike many of his colleagues who had spent years building their teaching credentials, he was stepping into this role with little formal preparation. He knew that if he failed to make a good first impression, complaints would pile up, and he could find himself expelled from Hogwarts before his journey even began.
"My first lesson is at three in the afternoon," he murmured, eyes flicking to the clock on the wall. "I need to prepare thoroughly."
Time flew by, and soon, the afternoon sun hung high in the sky. With a confident stride, Wes made his way to the classroom. To his pleasant surprise, the students were already seated, their eyes bright with curiosity. What caught his attention the most, however, was the presence of a first-year student amidst the group.
Hermione Granger.
His gaze lingered on her for a moment. Unlike the other students—who were mostly fifth years and above, well-versed in the fundamentals of magic—Hermione was a fresh arrival from the Muggle world. It was highly unusual for someone like her to enroll in such an obscure and complex course.
His curiosity piqued, he turned to the blackboard and wrote his name with deliberate strokes: Wes Irwin.
Facing the class, he gave them a warm smile. "First, let me express my sincere gratitude to all of you for choosing Magic Patterns," he said, his voice carrying through the room. "Secondly, since we're a small group, I'd like each of you to introduce yourselves. I have a little confidence that I can remember all your names."
A ripple of amused laughter passed through the students, easing the initial tension. One by one, they stood and introduced themselves. When it was Hermione's turn, all eyes turned to her.
A Muggle-born first-year in a course designed for upperclassmen—it was unexpected, to say the least.
Yet, she held herself with unwavering confidence. As she spoke, her eyes never left Wes, brimming with determination and curiosity. There was something striking about her eagerness to learn, an almost insatiable hunger for knowledge that set her apart from her peers.
With introductions complete, Wes launched into the lecture. "Magic Patterns are ancient and intricate. Their applications range from setting traps and strengthening defenses to enhancing alchemy and constructing enchanted objects."
The students immediately opened their books, pens scratching against parchment as they took diligent notes.
To keep the lesson engaging, Wes wove in tales from his own adventures, describing the mysterious symbols he had encountered in forgotten ruins and the hidden dangers of deciphering ancient spells. His stories captivated the class, earning gasps of awe and murmurs of excitement.
"In essence, Magic Patterns are indispensable in the wizarding world," he concluded. "And if you have questions, feel free to ask."
The moment he finished speaking, hands shot into the air.
Wes chuckled. "Oh, this is quite unexpected. Alright, one at a time."
Pointing to a student in the first row, he said, "Let's start with you."
A boy stood up hastily, his excitement evident.
"Professor, are those adventure stories of yours real?" he asked.
"Absolutely," Wes replied without hesitation.
The class erupted in excited chatter. The boy looked like he wanted to ask more, but Wes held up a hand. "One question per student."
He slumped back into his seat, looking thoroughly put out.
The next student, a girl sitting behind him, eagerly asked, "Professor, did you ever find a legendary treasure during your adventures?"
The room fell silent as everyone leaned forward in anticipation.
Wes smirked, standing up and adjusting his robes. "Let's just say that a professor's salary alone wouldn't be enough to afford this rather fine piece of attire."
A murmur of admiration swept through the classroom. His thoughts drifted momentarily to the grueling trials of the labyrinth he had once braved.
"But let me be clear," he continued, his tone growing serious. "Exploration is treacherous. A single misstep, and you could lose your life."
The weight of his words settled over the students, and for a brief moment, the classroom was silent.
Of course, there were always a few bold ones who still pressed on with questions.
Before he knew it, the bell rang, signaling the end of class.
"Alright, that's all for today, ladies and gentlemen," Wes announced with a smile.
Just as the students began packing up, a single hand shot into the air.
"Miss Granger?" he acknowledged, already guessing what she was about to say.
"Professor, you haven't assigned any homework yet."
A collective groan filled the room. Several students glared at Hermione with a mix of betrayal and horror.
Wes chuckled. "I'd rather not scare away my students on the first day, Miss Granger. Now, what are you all still doing here? Go on!"
At his words, the students wasted no time scrambling out of the classroom, cheering over the lack of homework. Only Hermione remained, looking slightly disappointed.
A month passed in the blink of an eye.
By now, Wes had settled into his role as a professor. With only three classes a week, grading a handful of essays, and conducting research in the library, his routine was relatively relaxed. Surprisingly, some student essays—though often naïve—sparked fresh insights in his own studies.
His dedication didn't go unnoticed. Rumors spread through Hogwarts that the young professor was even more diligent than his students, igniting an unexpected wave of academic enthusiasm.
One weekend, instead of heading to the library, Wes decided to visit an old friend.
Hagrid's hut was warm and inviting, the scent of burning firewood filling the air. The half-giant greeted him with a hearty laugh, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug.
"Wes, ah—no, I should call ya Professor Irwin now!"
Wes chuckled. "Let's stick with Wes. Makes me feel less like an old man."
They sat by the fire, steaming mugs of tea in their hands. Hagrid, as always, offered his infamous rock cakes, which Wes politely declined after a cautious glance.
The hut was cluttered yet cozy, decorated with pelts and trinkets from rare magical creatures. A gleaming strand of unicorn hair caught Wes's eye, and he marveled at Hagrid's collection.
"You ever think about selling some of these?" Wes asked curiously. "You could live a bit more comfortably."
Hagrid frowned. "What for? I like my life just fine."
Wes held back a sigh. Hagrid's loyalty to Hogwarts—and to Dumbledore—was unwavering.
Instead, they spent the evening swapping stories, laughing over past adventures. By the time night fell, Wes bid Hagrid farewell, declining dinner with a knowing smile.
Some things, after all, were best left uneaten.