The annual start-of-term season had arrived right on schedule, and Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was packed with students and the families seeing them off.
Voices overlapped in a lively and chaotic chorus, creating a vibrant and bustling atmosphere.
"A nostalgic scene," Wes thought. A few years ago, he had been one of these students.
Now, he was boarding the Hogwarts Express not as a student, but as a professor. The familiar sights stirred something sentimental in his heart.
Wes climbed aboard the train with a calm and steady pace, heading straight to the private compartment prepared specifically for staff.
As the door closed behind him, it was as if an invisible barrier sealed away all the noise from the outside world.
There must have been some kind of soundproofing charm on the door—it worked flawlessly.
Wes nodded in approval, then quickly took out a journal article and began reading with complete focus. His quill moved over his notebook, jotting down thoughts as he studied, his expression deeply absorbed.
With a hiss of steam from the train's chimney, the Hogwarts Express slowly began to move forward, carrying a carriage full of eager and hopeful students toward the castle.
Wes was so engrossed in his reading that he didn't notice time passing—until a sudden, rapid knock on the door interrupted his concentration.
He frowned slightly, clearly displeased by the interruption, and reluctantly lifted his head.
"Come in," he said, sounding a bit weary.
The door creaked open, and two children—a boy and a girl—stood hesitantly at the threshold.
The boy hid nervously behind the girl, trembling slightly at the sight of an adult, burying his head so deep into his chest it was as though he wished he could disappear.
The girl clearly hadn't expected to find an adult—let alone one with a private compartment—on a train filled almost entirely with students.
"Excuse me, sir… have you seen a toad? Neville's toad has gone missing."
Neville tugged gently on her sleeve and whispered nervously, "He's probably a professor. We should be polite."
"I'm sorry to bother you, sir." Hermione's sharp eyes quickly spotted the journal article on the desk and lit up.
"Are you studying magic? That's amazing! I've never seen real magical research before, could I—"
Her words spilled out like a rapid-fire spell, a torrent of curiosity and excitement. In her enthusiasm, she had completely forgotten why they'd come in the first place.
Wes felt his temples throb and had to cut her off before the headache worsened.
"Excuse me, miss. I don't believe I know who you are."
"I'm Hermione Granger, and this is Neville Longbottom. We're first-years at Hogwarts."
Hermione answered confidently, unfazed by the presence of an adult, and introduced herself without hesitation.
"Miss Granger, I haven't seen the toad," Wes said curtly. "And as you can see, I'm rather busy. Would you mind closing the door on your way out? Thank you."
With that, he returned his attention to his paper, not sparing them another glance.
"Sorry for disturbing you, sir."
Before Hermione could speak again, Neville—surprisingly nimble for his nervous demeanor—pulled her away and shut the door behind them.
Hermione pouted, clearly upset and frustrated.
"What kind of person talks like that? How could someone that cold be a professor?"
She stomped off in a huff, her short legs moving fast. Neville trailed behind silently, not saying a word.
With the two gone, Wes was finally able to return to his work in peace, remaining completely focused until the train came to a gentle halt at the station.
Upon disembarking, Wes walked briskly and arrived at Hogwarts in no time.
He made his way to his office on the seventh floor. The room was sparsely decorated but tidy and well-organized.
Wes opened his suitcase, and out popped Jandy.
"I've already spoken with Headmaster Dumbledore," Wes said.
"During my tenure, you're free to move around Hogwarts. But remember—you must never interfere with the other professors or students."
"As you command, Master," Jandy replied loyally.
Wes put on a freshly pressed set of robes and stood in front of the mirror, carefully examining his appearance from head to toe.
"I need to attend the opening ceremony. Clean up this place while I'm gone."
The Great Hall of Hogwarts was as grand and magnificent as ever. The high, vaulted ceiling seemed to stretch endlessly toward the heavens.
Magic had transformed the ceiling into a stunning replica of the night sky, where countless stars twinkled like gems set in a vast tapestry.
Four long house tables were neatly arranged, each one seating students from one of the four houses.
Portraits of past headmasters lined the surrounding walls, their lifelike expressions watching the scene below in contemplative silence.
The floor, paved with gleaming marble, reflected everyone's silhouettes as if it were one enormous mirror.
The house banners hung in each corner of the hall—scarlet for Gryffindor, emerald green for Slytherin, blue for Ravenclaw, and yellow for Hufflepuff. They fluttered gently in the air, proudly displaying their house's legacy.
Hundreds of floating candles hovered in midair, casting a warm, soft glow that lit the entire hall as brightly as daytime.
The students, dressed in their house robes, sat at their respective tables, their faces beaming with excitement and anticipation.
Wes's entrance did not go unnoticed.
"Who's that?"
"Duh, obviously a new professor. Didn't you see him sitting with the staff?"
"He's so young... and handsome!"
A group of young witches whispered among themselves, their eyes full of admiration as they glanced at Wes.
Professor Flitwick, practically bouncing on his toes with excitement, stretched up to give Wes a hug. Wes bent down slightly to meet him halfway.
"Long time no see, Professor."
Flitwick smiled warmly and patted Wes on the arm.
"Oh, my most outstanding student returning to Hogwarts as a professor. How does it feel?"
"Absolutely incredible," Wes replied, his eyes shining.
"After graduation, I've thought about coming back every single day."
"I doubt you'll make a decent professor, Mr. Elwin," came Snape's signature cold, drawling voice.
"Don't listen to Severus," Flitwick said cheerfully, linking arms with Wes.
"You'll make an excellent professor." He proceeded to introduce Wes to the rest of the staff.
Truthfully, introductions weren't really needed. Most of the professors remembered Wes well—he had left a deep impression as a hardworking student.
Many warmly welcomed him back, genuinely glad to see such a promising graduate return to teach.
Wes also met the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for the term—Quirinus Quirrell.
Professor Quirrell wore a purple turban that emitted an odd scent, making others instinctively keep their distance.
At the moment, however, he was tightly clinging to Snape's side, whispering rapidly.
Just then, the Great Hall's large doors opened, and a line of first-years entered in neat rows.
The Sorting Hat, seated on a stool at the front, suddenly burst into song, its voice loud and full of enthusiasm.
Unfortunately, its singing voice was… less than pleasant.
The annual Sorting Ceremony officially began.
Aside from the usual fun of watching nervous first-years trip over themselves, this year's highlight was undoubtedly the Boy Who Lived.
When the Sorting Hat finally declared Harry Potter a Gryffindor, the Gryffindor table erupted with deafening cheers so loud it felt as though they might blow the roof off the castle.
Professor McGonagall's face was glowing with pride, and even the usually stern Dumbledore wore a satisfied smile.
Snape's expression, however, darkened noticeably.
But all of that had little to do with Wes.
Under Dumbledore's lead, the students broke into the Hogwarts school song, each singing in their own tempo and tune. The resulting chaos was enough to make Wes wish he could silence it all with a charm.
Once the musical mayhem died down, Dumbledore solemnly addressed the school with the usual start-of-term reminders, then introduced the two new professors.
Finally, he cheerfully announced that the feast could begin.
As the ceremony wrapped up, Wes let out a discreet sigh of relief.
He had never been fond of large crowds or overly noisy places.
Fortunately, the subject he taught—Runic Magic—was an obscure elective, and not many students signed up for it. That brought him a small, secret comfort.