The following morning
dawned bright and clear. Peering out of my small window, I saw the sunny
grounds, warm and expectant for the students who would soon be roaming them.

  “September
first,” I sighed happily. Always the most exciting day of the year.

  The
morning passed uneventfully, with a light breakfast of eggs and toast and a
pleasant chat with Professor Flitwick—Filius. Aldanous must have eaten earlier,
because he was absent from the breakfast-table. I touched up my room a bit
until noon, when I decided to take advantage of the quiet, student-free
atmosphere and stroll around the grounds. I grabbed a sandwich and an apple
from the kitchens for a picnic lunch.

  As
I meandered past the Black Lake and walked along the edge of the Forbidden
Forest towards the Owlery, memories danced around gaily in my head, each vying
for attention.

  Visions
of stolen kisses in the shadows of trees, books devoured while sitting by the peaceful
water, uncontrollable bouts of laughter with friends, endless Gobstones tournaments…the
past flooded back as if it had all happened only a few months ago. And now I
was back, with new opportunities for memory-making, laughter, and happiness. My
stomach bubbled with excitement. As I settled down on a grassy slope, gazing at
the distant Quidditch pitch and the picturesque mountain backdrop, yesterday’s
incident seemed trivial and distant. I felt regret-free and confident that some
of the best times of my life were yet to come.

*  *  *  *

  Hours
later, I trotted into the Great Hall, filled with anticipation. Craning my neck
to gaze at the enchanted ceiling, I was surprised to note how late it was
already. Evening blackness had seeped into the sky like a pool of spilled ink
into paper.

  As
ever, candles hovered eerily beneath the eaves. McGonagall had already lit
them, and their bright flames peppered the dark heavens like stars. Feeling a
thrill in my stomach, I breathed in the moment, savoring the brief minutes of
solitude. Soon, this Hall would be swarming with strange students, but right
now, I had it all to myself.

  No
sooner had I dropped my eyes from the ceiling and my thoughts from the clouds
than the sound of voices trickled in from the doorway.

  “…afraid
not, Aldanous, that is simply not how we approach things at Hogwarts.”
Professor McGonagall’s voice crescendoed as she trotted briskly into the hall,
followed closely by the handsome professor of Arithmancy. There was a note of
irritation in her voice and he appeared to be frustrated at her last remark,
but as soon as they noticed me they quickly dropped the conversation.
McGonagall nodded politely to me and continued to the Head table, while
Aldanous, flashing a charming smile, walked over to join me.

  “What
was that about?” I inquired quietly, before he had the chance to start a fresh
subject.

  “Oh,
nothing,” he said airily. “Just a friendly disagreement between colleagues.
There are some discrepancies between Minerva’s and my ideas on how students
should be…taught.” He paused before ‘taught,’ as if deciding against using a
different word. Before I could pursue the subject, he invited me up to the teachers’
table, and we took seats side-by-side as the rest of the faculty sauntered into
the Hall to join us.

  When
everyone had taken their seats, McGonagall rose and walked to the other side of
the table so as to face us all.

  “Welcome
to another year at Hogwarts,” she projected with a slight smile. “Most of you
know the story behind this informal address, but, as we have some fresh faces
this year, I shall repeat it. I beg your patience.” As she mentioned the ‘fresh
faces,’ her eyes flicked kindly to me and then to the new Care of the Magical
Creatures teacher, the grizzled Professor Rothbeard.

  “I
continue the tradition of the teacher’s welcome out of respect for my dear
departed friend, Albus Dumbledore.” I lowered my eyes in respect. I had never
known Professor Dumbledore, as he had been killed two years before I started at
Hogwarts, but I had heard and read many praises of his magical prowess and
kind, eccentric personality.

  McGonagall
continued: “Each year when he was headmaster, just minutes before the students
arrived, he would greet us all with kind words, rekindle within us a passion
and excitement for teaching, and of course, tell us a few bad jokes. I will
spare you the jokes, but I would like to say once again how delighted I am to
see you all at Hogwarts again. From the old friends” (her eyes roved lovingly
over the faces of professors Flitwick, Sprout, and Sinistra) “to the new” (a
tilt of the head toward me), “I know you are all extremely well qualified in
your fields of expertise. All that remains is for you to make a conscious
effort to bring your energy, your excitement and your patience to every class.
I urge you all to recall the first moment you performed a proper spell with
your wand, brewed a potion correctly, or deciphered an Ancient Rune. Remember
the thrills of touching a Magical Creature, viewing a beautiful constellation
or wrestling with a stubborn plant.” (Here Professor Sprout chuckled
appreciatively.) “Every student has within him or her a desire to learn, and it
is our job to unearth that desire, no matter how deeply buried it may be. So
share with them your passion and your love for learning, so that they may find
their own and flourish here at Hogwarts.”

  We
all applauded heartily and McGonagall made her way back down the length of the
Great Hall and out the doors. The students had just arrived.

*  *  *  *

  It
felt as if I were reliving my own memories, but from a new and strange
perspective. Little had changed since my days in school; the second through
seventh years filtered into the Great Hall first, and the first years filed in
a few minutes later, nervous and shaking, for the Sorting. Despite the consistency
of the ceremony, however, it still felt very different as viewed from the
teachers’ table. All of the students seemed younger, more vulnerable (even
though the sixth and seventh years clearly thought themselves invincible), and
the youngest students seemed so small! I could have sworn that when I was a
first year, my classmates and I were not that short.

  “Strange,
isn’t it?” asked a voice to my left, breaking through my reverie. It was
Aldanous, whose piercing blue eyes were shining like beacons out from under his
low-set eyebrows as he shot me a sidelong gaze. My stomach fluttered
involuntarily, and I was suddenly aware of the strands of frizzy hair that were
falling in my face. I hurriedly brushed them behind my ear.

  “Yes,”
I replied as coolly as possible, accepting the dish of rice-and-stew that he
was passing to me (the feast had just begun). “It’s the same, but…different.”

  “I
know exactly what you mean,” he agreed. “I felt the same way when I first
started teaching here a few years back…you get used to it, though.” He smiled
kindly before bringing up the unavoidable question: “So, what house were you in
when you were at Hogwarts?”

  “Ravenclaw,”
I replied proudly. “I’ve always loved to learn, to read, to discover, to
investigate…I was a Claw through and through.” I grinned broadly, recalling
days spent in the Common Room or the library with a good book. “And you?” I
returned his question with a bit of apprehension…Though I had tried long ago to
rid myself of inter-house prejudice, I still harbored some unintentional
wariness of the over-confident, often reckless Gryffindors and, to a lesser extent,
the oft-manipulative Slytherins.

  “I
was a Slytherin,” he answered carefully, his eyes clearly preparing to gauge my
reaction. He must have seen some disappointment register in my face, because he
quickly justified himself. “I was never a cheater, though—I know how you Claws
despise cheaters.” His eyes crinkled teasingly. “I was simply ambitious…I had
lofty goals for myself and was ready to apply myself to achieve them, even if
it meant thinking a bit outside the box to do so.”

  I could respect that. I too
had always been very goal-oriented throughout my life, and had worked immensely
hard to make my intentions come to fruition. And after all, not all Slytherins
were nasty—that was always just an unfair stereotype. I mentioned this to
Aldanous, and he seemed glad to know that I was not judging him harshly based
on his House.

  He
continued to engage me in conversation throughout the rest of dinner. While we
chatted, I discovered that not only was he charming and attractive, he was also
very intelligent, discussing intriguing issues of the Magical and Muggle Worlds
with me and respecting all of my opinions. And he was funny—his snappy wit and
hilarious expressions made me laugh harder than I had in a long while. When I
retired to my tiny room late that night, I couldn’t help but let out a sigh of contentment
as I pictured again his playful, smiling face. I could sense that this was
going to be a good year.