I
knew from the moment I walked through the massive double doors that I had made
the right decision. Nothing had changed since my last year here at Hogwarts.
From the weathered stone to the distant mutterings of portraits to the
pleasantly musty scent, the castle still looked, sounded and smelled like home.

  Hardly
seconds after I had had set down my heavy trunks, my hands pink and stinging
from the handles, a small league of house-elves scurried over to take them
away. “Thank you,” I called after the retreating luggage. My mother had always
taught me to respect all creatures.

  A
soft flapping of robes alerted me to the presence of Minerva McGonagall, who
was descending swiftly down the stairs. She looked not a day older than when I
had last seen her. Sometimes she seemed as if she would live forever, kept
alive by her steadfast devotion to education and order.

  “Celeste,”
she smiled as she shook my hand. I was flattered that she had remembered my
preferred nickname, considering the hundreds of students she oversaw each year.
“I am so glad you chose to accept the post as professor of Ancient Runes. I
remember well your unusual proclivity for that subject, and indeed your great
aptitude in all areas. Straight “O”s on your O.W.L.s, if I recall correctly?
And great success as a N.E.W.T. student as well.”

  “Yes,
Professor, thank you,” I said, flushing. Compliments from the stern woman came
few and far between, so such praise was touching. “I’m immensely grateful to
have been offered the position, and it feels wonderful to be back.”

  “Please,
call me Minerva. We’re colleagues now,” she said with a twinkle in her eye, as
if she knew that the mere idea of working with many of my former professors
still felt a bit disconcerting. “Now, your bedroom will be just next to the
fifth-floor bathrooms, right down the hall from the Runes classroom. You may
use the afternoon to unpack and get comfortable; then please join us for the
faculty meeting at six-thirty.”

  “Of
course, thank you.” As she retreated into the Great Hall, I began to ascend the
main staircase.

  I
navigated the route to my favorite classroom as if it were instinct. I recalled
every shortcut (a “goodday” to a tapestry of a pale warlock brought me up two
floors in no time) and jumped every trick step.

  As
my feet travelled the well-known path, my mind took in all of the familiar
sights. The suits of armor, the tapestries, the luxuriously deep carpeting:
none of these had changed in the five-odd years I had been gone. Many of the
portraits recognized my face and greeted me as I walked: some nuns eating pears
waved from their portrait, and a short pony missing a rider galloped next to me
through an entire corridor’s worth of paintings before it tired and fell back.

  All
the while, my stomach was conducting a series of backflips from nerves and
excitement. It felt disconcertingly similar to my very first day at Hogwarts.
Shouldn’t I have felt confident and prepared, having travelled these hallways
for seven years? But perhaps no one was ever quite prepared for a year at
Hogwarts, because the castle always had something new and undiscovered to
offer.

  Emerging
from my contemplation, I found myself next to a very familiar mottled door. I
pulled out my wand, unlocked it, and peered inside.

  The
Ancient Runes classroom was not much different from when I had studied there. A
few new posters had been put up, including an advertisement for a dual-copy
edition of “The Tales of Beedle the Bard” which contained the original ancient
runes version and Hermione Granger’s most recent translation. The teacher’s
desk was also cleaned off, and the carpets had been removed. Other than that,
though, Professor Babbling had left the room mostly furnished. I wouldn’t have
to do much, except perhaps to replace the alphabet chart with the newly updated
version that included “מּ.”

  I
pulled myself away from the classroom and all of its ensnaring memories and
traipsed down the corridor to my bedroom.

  “Alohomora,” I muttered, dearly hoping
that the room would be of adequate size.

  I
was unpleasantly surprised. The room was hardly larger than a closet, furnished
with only a bed frame, a creaky wardrobe and a dusty desk. I would have to use
the students’ washrooms next door. This dampened my cheery mood a bit, and I
sighed as I levitated my trunks onto the bed and began to unpack.

*  *   *  *

  A
few hours later, I had spruced up the room fairly successfully with a few
spells and a couple items from home. I had a bit of time before the teachers’
meeting began, so I decided to freshen up.

  Since
the students had yet to arrive at Hogwarts, I decided to take advantage of the
magnificent Prefects’ washrooms. I ran up to my favorite one on the seventh
floor.

  Feeling
that I needed a treat, I filled the pool-sized tub up with lavender-scented
bubbles, delicate baby-blue foam and, to top it all off, rose petals. I
undressed, slipped in, and luxuriously closed my eyes.

  Half
an hour later, I reluctantly dragged myself out of the lovely flower-scented
water. It was only then that I realized I had forgotten a towel. I looked
around frantically, but the bathroom had not yet been stacked with its usual
fluffy white towels.

  “Shit,”
I said out loud. “Shit, shit, shit!”
I cursed myself as I realized that not only had I neglected to bring a towel, I
also had come to the washroom in only my robe, intending to don my underclothes
when I returned to my room. And on top of all this, I had left my wand on my
bed, where I had thrown it down in triumph after conquering a particularly
nasty cobweb in a corner.

  Well,
I was in a predicament. I was dripping wet, my thick curly hair absolutely
sopping. I couldn’t put my robes back on because then they would get wet, and I
needed them for the teacher’s meeting. My idea of a good first impression
didn’t include either looking as if I had gone for a swim with my clothes on or
looking like a Muggle. I knew some good siphoning spells, but my wand was far
from reach. And judging by the clock on a wall opposite me, the professor’s
meeting was in twenty minutes, so I didn’t have the time to air-dry.

  I
let out a slow, controlled breath and made the decision. I would try to dash
back to my rooms, completely nude.

  I
steeled myself to open the door. After
all, no one will see you, I consoled myself. The passageway I use is pretty obscure, and what teacher would be using
it at this time anyway?

  With
that comforting thought, I pushed open the door and ran. I tried to keep my
balled-up robes positioned somewhere in front of my crotch, but there was
nothing with which to conceal my breasts. As I felt the air rush by, I heard
some portraits giggling. One knight wolf-whistled, and I shouted “obscuro” at his portrait before
recalling that I was wandless.

  I
pushed aside a tapestry to enter my shortcut passageway. Almost there, just around this corner and you’re homeward bound—

  I
let out a shriek. A man was strolling towards me from the other end of the
passage. I grabbed the nearest wall-hanging, and nearly ripping it off the
wall, covered myself as best I could.

  The
man stopped in his tracks upon seeing me and let out a sound of shock.

  “Close
your eyes!” I shouted wildly. He obeyed.

  He
was a rusty-haired, light-skinned, handsome man wearing just a sweater and
jeans, no robes. I judged him as a bit older than me, perhaps in his late 20s
or early 30s. He had a defined jaw and dark eyebrows set close to his
now-closed eyes, as well as full lips which were currently stretching into a
grin.

  “It’s
been many years since I’ve seen a girl running butt-naked through the halls of
Hogwarts,” he commented with a smirk, eyes still closed. “My, those were the
days...who are you, anyway?”

  “I’m
not a girl, I’m a woman…a professor now, actually,” I retorted, trying to
reduce the hysteria in my voice and regain some semblance of dignity. “And
sorry, but I don’t exactly have time to chat right now.” I was still holding up
the tapestry horizontally in front of me, shivering a little as cold drops of
water slid from my hair down my bare back. I paused. “How much did you see?” I
added nervously.

  “Nothing!”
he insisted. I made a sound of incredulity, and he admitted, “Well, the top
half.”

  I
grimaced, cheeks burning. Absolutely mortified, I managed to squeak out “keep
your eyes closed and stand to the left, please.” Again, he obeyed and I darted
past him, through the exit of the passageway, round one last corner, and into
the safety of my bedroom. As I dried off and dressed hastily, I hoped against
hope that he was a new caretaker or other sort of staff member here, and not a
fellow professor. After all, he was quite young, and hadn’t been wearing any
robes during our encounter. Then again, I was young too, and neither had I…my
face flushed pink again.

*  *  *  *

  Today
was not my lucky day. It turned out, the man was not a caretaker, but indeed
the professor of Arithmancy, who had been teaching at Hogwarts ever since
Professor Vector’s untimely death. His name was Aldanous Tremlett, and he was
thirty-one years old. I found all this out at the teacher’s meeting, where
everyone introduced themselves and gave me a warm welcome (even Aldanous).

  Many
of my former professors were here, including the aging but ever-cheery
Professor Sprout, the tiny old Flitwick, and slender professor Sinistra. They
all insisted I call them by their first names, which felt strange.

  I’m
sure the teachers’ meeting would have been incredibly informative had I only
had the ability to focus. And I tried to focus, I tried so hard. I caught
snippets about “positive reinforcement” and “fair treatment” and “active
learning,” but mostly I caught Aldanous’s eye. I kept staring at him, reliving
our horrific encounter, and every time he turned his head I’d quickly look
away.

  After
McGonagall—no, Minerva—called the meeting to a close, I hastily made my way
back into the entrance hall. However, I found my path up the stairs blocked by
a now all-too-familiar face.

  “I
didn’t get a chance to apologize for earlier,” said Aldanous formally. “That
passageway was one of my old haunts, and I had the urge to revisit it. I didn’t
expect to encounter anyone along the way; trust me.”

  “No,
don’t apologize, it was completely my fault,” I stammered, feeling a mixture of
guilt and embarrassment. “I’m the one who should be sorry…I shouldn’t have
shouted at you. I was just a bit…distressed.”

  “Clearly.”
He chuckled.

  There
was a pause. I felt like punching myself. Could this conversation be any more
awkward?

  “Well,
I…I must go get my classroom in order,” I muttered hastily. I sidestepped him
and began to ascend the stairs.

  “I’ll
see you tomorrow, Celestina.”

  I
slowed and turned slightly. “Please, call me Celeste.” Despite my still-present
embarrassment, I cast him a small smile before continuing upstairs.