The class was quiet. In many ways too quiet for a group of children. They sat in their seats waiting patiently, staring at the door of the classroom. There was an anticipation, all the stories they had been brought up on. The tales too immense to be true, yet listened to at bedtime with wide eyes. The world had moved on, but the memories were burned into every child, as they were into every parent.
The door rattled and every head fixed on the movement. Someone was fiddling with the handle and being fairly unsuccessful. The children fidgeted as they watched the knob turn and fail. Small noises expelled from the breath of each child, with each uncomfortable attempt. Not one child went for the door, they were all frozen in their seats.
Finally the door swung open and the man walked in with a pile of books and papers that seemed to tall to be carried by a normal person. He moved quickly to the desk at the front of the class and just managed to place the pile down as it fell across it. The hand of the new teacher reached up and scratched his head. His back still turned to the stunned children.
“Well, not the most graceful of first classes,” he said as he turned to the wide eyes. “Hello class, let me say that I am terribly pleased to be starting my new role with such a well-behaved group of students.”
“I assume most of you know me and for that I am sorry. I know it puts you in a weird spot, but let me just say I am first and foremost your teacher. I will try to teach you all I know and hopefully give you the tools to protect yourself.”
He smiled a crooked smile and his dark hair fell into his eyes. The children relaxed and began to melt from their awed stupors.
“My title is Professor Potter and I am your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but please, call me Harry.”