Chapter 35. Entering the Castle
By the time the train pulled into the station, the sky was almost entirely dark.
Hagrid's voice came from outside.
"First years! First years, this way! Harry, over here—how are yeh?"
Listening to the chatter outside, Adrian Wesson woke from his doze.
Through the window, he saw students already gathered on the platform. Hagrid stood before them, talking non-stop.
He rubbed his stiff shoulders and arms, rose from his seat, and stretched.
It had been a long time since he'd ridden the Hogwarts Express like this—an experience that wasn't half bad.
Only after the students had gone did Adrian step down from the train at an unhurried pace.
"Fweee—"
Adrian let out a whistle, the clear note echoing through the night.
A moment later, there was a rushing sound high in the air.
Then, a figure dropped soundlessly out of the night and alighted lightly in front of him.
Its broad wings folded slightly. Though gaunt to the point of skeletal, it was tall, with a pair of white, pupil-less eyes that looked especially uncanny in the dark.
It was a Thestral.
"Sorry to trouble you to come fetch me." Adrian raised a hand and gently stroked the Thestral's neck.
The Thestral lowered its head to sniff his palm, as if confirming his scent, then gave a soft snort, almost affectionate.
Adrian swung up lightly.
The Thestral spread its great, leathery wings, gave a few testing beats, then sprang upward, bearing Adrian into the night.
The chill evening wind rushed at his face; his black robes snapped and streamed like a shadow melting into the dark.
To be honest, Adrian felt Thestrals weren't ideal for riding—far too bony to be comfortable.
That jutting ridge of bone made his backside ache something awful.
Perhaps that was why Hogwarts only had Thestrals pull the carriages.
The Thestral carried Adrian to the main doors of Hogwarts Castle.
When he dismounted, Adrian couldn't help a sneeze. Nights at this time of year were still rather cold—especially when you'd been flying.
He arrived before the students.
At this hour, the first-years should still be out in the middle of the Black Lake, and the upper-years had likely only just climbed into the Thestral-drawn carriages.
Adrian pushed open the doors of Hogwarts Castle—and found Professor McGonagall right there before him.
Professor McGonagall wore an elegant deep-green robe, stood bolt upright, her hair neat to a fault, her expression severe—clearly prepared to receive someone.
Naturally, that someone wasn't Adrian.
She was waiting to receive Hogwarts's new students; all this formality was obviously to maintain the proper impression before them.
When Adrian opened the door, he saw Professor McGonagall's face freeze.
Clearly, she hadn't expected Adrian to be the one to appear. In her mind, it ought to have been a crowd of adorable first-years.
"Why is it you, Professor Wesson?" Professor McGonagall glanced past him, perplexed. "Where are the students?"
"Just behind," Adrian shrugged, answering lightly. "I came the same way they did—on the Hogwarts Express. I don't suppose I've missed the Start-of-Term Feast?"
A flicker of resignation crossed Professor McGonagall's face, but she quickly resumed her severity, expression smoothing to composure.
For now, keeping her face was the priority.
"Professor Wesson," she said sternly, her tone urging him on, "do go in at once. The other professors have all arrived—except you."
Prompted thus, Adrian did not hurry; instead, he asked, "Do you need me to help welcome the first-years?"
Professor McGonagall's eyes flicked to Adrian's wind-tossed hair, which looked like a bird's nest. The corner of her mouth twitched.
"No need, Professor Wesson," she said, waving him on.
"All right."
…
When Adrian reached the Great Hall, it was exactly as Professor McGonagall had said: the professors and the Headmaster were already in their places—even Quirrell had arrived—and Adrian alone had yet to sit.
As he looked toward the staff table, Professor Sprout's gaze immediately locked onto him.
Professor Sprout waved him over with a kindly smile. "Professor Wesson—come along."
Adrian smiled back and walked lightly towards her.
As he passed the staff, he could feel eyes on him from all directions—some curious, some faintly impatient.
The impatient one, of course, was Hogwarts's Potions Master, Severus Snape.
Naturally, Adrian could see where Snape was coming from.
Ever since some time in Adrian's fifth year, Snape had never been able to stand the sight of him.
For his part, Adrian didn't much care for the fellow who had once thrown in his lot with Lord Voldemort, either.
Though he'd seemingly come back into Dumbledore's camp, Adrian still didn't like him.
But now wasn't the time to rake up old grievances.
Adrian made his way to the last open seat and sat—right beside Professor Sprout.
No sooner had he settled than Professor Sprout turned her head slightly.
"So it really is you, Adrian," she murmured, eyes bright with delight and disbelief. "I honestly thought Professor Kettleburn was joking. I didn't expect he'd truly ask you to take over his class."
"I hadn't expected it either," Adrian shrugged. "But the Headmaster trusts me—and I like teaching. Besides, I know quite a lot about caring for magical creatures."
"I know," said Professor Sprout, her smile blooming all the wider. "Though I daresay you might be even better suited to teaching Herbology."
"Then you'd be out of a job, Professor," Adrian quipped. "And I can't let a thing like that happen."
In his student days, Adrian had shown exceptional talent in Herbology.
And as a Hufflepuff, he had always been one of Professor Sprout's prides.
After all, who doesn't like a student who's both well-behaved and brilliant?
Snape, seated near Adrian, let out a quiet, derisive snort at that.
What are you laughing at?
Utterly baffling. Adrian didn't get it.
If you've got the guts, come and have a—forget it. There's a fair chance he'd win.
Adrian held his tongue and merely shot Snape a fierce glare.
But by then Snape had already turned his head away, not looking at Adrian at all.
"…"
Dumbledore clapped his hands, that signature benign smile on his face. He swept his eyes along the staff table, signalling for quiet.
"Everyone, a moment of silence," Dumbledore said. "The new students will be here any minute. This is an important moment, so I must ask you all to remain elegant and dignified."
He paused, smiled a touch, and turned his eyes towards Adrian. "I gather our new Professor of Care of Magical Creatures has a unique perspective on hairstyle."
Only then did Adrian notice how his hair had been blown completely askew; he quickly set to work with his fingers to tame it.
"I thought it was the latest fashion," Professor Flitwick muttered under his breath beside him.
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