The classroom was silent, filled with anticipation as the students entered. You stood on the raised platform, dressed in dark robes adorned with shifting silver runes. The ancient carvings on the walls seemed to pulse with energy, reacting to your presence like the room itself recognized you as its master.

As the students entered, they stared at you with widening eyes, confusion and doubt crossing their faces, followed by the skepticism reserved for someone they believed didn’t belong.

You could hear Draco’s voice, quiet but unmistakable, cutting through the low murmur. "Is she lost? She is too young for being the professor."

A few snickers followed, as if they assumed you were just another student in the wrong classroom. Blaise raised an eyebrow, exchanging an amused glance with Draco.

Theodore looked at you for a moment, his gaze lingering as though trying to assess whether you were, in fact, a new addition to the school. The others—Tom, Mattheo, Lorenzo and Regulus—gave no outward sign of their thoughts, though you could feel their curiosity stirring in the air like static.

You stood still, watching them, allowing the whispers and uncertain glances to grow. Mattheo spoke up with a casual smirk that anyone seemed to realize the truth. "Do you need directions, or are you just... lost?"

But you weren't lost. You were the professor of Runic Mysticism and Dark Sigilry.

The stunned silence that followed was almost tangible. The room was still as the realization hit them: the young woman standing before them, apparently no older than a fifth-year, was not another student—but their professor.

You could see the confusion ripple across their faces. Draco’s smirk faltered for just a second, while Blaise blinked, clearly caught off guard. Mattheo's expression shifted into one of cautious curiosity, and even Tom, who had remained silent until now, shifted his gaze toward you.

"Professor?" Draco scoffed, though there was an edge of uncertainty in his tone. "You don't look much older than me."