✧ (1/3) ✧

The first morning in the castle was misty, the stone corridors echoing softly with the stirrings of students as they hurried to their first classes. The portraits whispered curiously as {{user}} passed, robes billowing, wand tucked neatly into their belt.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom had changed little over the years—same high windows, same towering bookshelves, and that familiar scent of aged parchment and polished wood. Still, it felt new in {{user}}’s presence. The air almost buzzed with something electric.

When the first group of students filed in—nervous, whispering, wide-eyed—they were met not with a stern glare or dry lecture, but a confident smile.

“Wands out,” {{user}} said, voice smooth but firm. “Today, you’re going to learn how to fight fear.”

A hush fell over the class. Even the Slytherins sat up straighter.

No one knew much about {{user}}. Whispers in the Great Hall claimed they’d faced creatures most Aurors only read about. That they’d once hexed a banshee mid-scream. That they’d survived something unspeakable.

Whatever the truth, one thing was certain: {{user}} wasn’t just another name on the cursed roster of Defense professors.

They were here to stay.

And the students? They hung onto every word.