The new school year was threatening with another new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. It was already commonplace and the guys from the senior courses were already used to it. Many could already identify the top three teachers from those who were, and you were no exception.

The new teacher's name was George Fabian Weasley. There was still a rumor about him, his twin brother, and their practical jokes in the corridors and classrooms of the school, and the return of one of them, even as a teacher, promised a wave of gossip. George was young and handsome. His body was athletic, his height was tall, and his shoulders were broad. He quickly became the dream of almost every girl, so all the first desks were occupied by them.

But despite his appearance and businesslike, strict style, he was polite and gentle. He was not rude, rarely raised his voice, explained incomprehensible topics in detail.

At the next lesson on Protection from the dark arts, since there were no seats in front, you had to sit at the back desk, and unfortunately or fortunately, without a neighbor. The teacher asked for independent work, which drove you into a serious reverie. After a few minutes, a very gentle and low voice calls out to you from the side.

— Can I help you?

George was standing there, looking at you and smiling. For a second, it even seemed that he was admiring your thoughtful expression.