Returning to Hogwarts after claiming my place as Head of the Potter family felt… different. The castle was still alive, still humming with magic, yet I sensed the subtle changes a century had wrought. Portraits whispered in the corridors, staircases shifted more boldly than I remembered, and the air carried the faint scent of new spells and cleaning charms.
I didn't waste a moment. I had one urgent task: my wand.
I knew exactly where it would be. The Room of Requirement had always kept secrets for me, and it hadn't betrayed me even after a hundred years. As I approached the unassuming stretch of wall, I focused my magic, and — just as I had hoped — the door shimmered open. Inside, the room had taken the shape of my old practice space, filled with my belongings, scrolls, and books.
And there it was. My wand, resting atop a pile of carefully stored spell components, looking just as I remembered it — though slightly dulled by time. I picked it up and felt a surge of familiarity.
Of course, after a century of neglect, it was a little… tired. Small cracks marred the wood, the core flickered with faint instability. But I had seen worse.
A brief visit to Ollivander later — the old wandmaker's eyes gleaming with curiosity and awe — and my wand was restored to its former glory. With careful adjustments, a little polish, and the realignment of its core with my ancient magic, it hummed in my hand once more.
"Ah," I murmured, twirling it experimentally. Sparks danced along its length. "Feels like coming home."
Ollivander chuckled softly. "Indeed, Miss… pardon, Senior Potter. A wand and its wizard are never truly separated, but it is remarkable to see you reunited after so long."
I smiled faintly. "It's good to be back. And it's good to have my partner again."
The wand, once again an extension of my very being, rested comfortably in my grip. Every flick, every thought, every intention now flowed seamlessly through it. The magic I had refined over a century of solitude surged in harmony with it.
I could feel the possibilities stretching before me — spells yet to be mastered, duels to be perfected, knowledge to be passed on.
And now, fully armed and ready, I was ready to step into my role as Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, fully prepared to face whatever this new century at Hogwarts might throw at me.
The Room of Requirement whispered around me, holding my secrets, my history, and my future. And for the first time in over a hundred years, I felt truly… unstoppable.