The prefect compartment rattled faintly as the train pushed along the tracks. Bags were wedged into corners. Half the room still looked unsure this wasn’t a mistake.

Hermione sat straight-backed near the window, talking to Padma. Neville was on her left, nodding along to everything they said. Opposite them, Anthony Goldstein was flipping a chocolate frog card between his fingers while Daphne glanced at the door every minute or so like she was hoping someone else might arrive and take over.

Ernest Macmillan adjusted his badge again.

Hannah gave him a small nudge. “It’s still facing the right way.”

“Just checking.”

Daphne didn’t bother hiding her sigh.

Theo Nott sat slouched beside her, one leg stretched too far. He hadn’t said anything since coming in. Not even when Neville awkwardly said hello. Just flicked his gaze around the room and went quiet again.

The door opened.

“Sorry!” Cedric stepped in, breathless from walking too fast down a moving train, Elora Dun just behind him, holding the schedule parchment. “Right, everyone’s here?”

They all turned to the door. Cho waving at Cedric. Earning herself a smile and a wave back.

“Great,” Cedric said, clapping his hands. “Sorry for the delay. Some third-years started hexing luggage two compartments down. Thought we might as well solve it before it turned into a full-on trunk duel.”

Elora gave a polite nod. “Welcome, everyone. Congratulations to the new prefects. If you’ve got questions, Cedric and I are here.”

Neville sat up straighter. Hermione already had a list out.

Elora gestured to the group. “For those of you who don’t know each other, Hermione and Neville from Gryffindor, Padma and Anthony from Ravenclaw, Daphne and Theo for Slytherin, Hannah and Ernest for Hufflepuff. Your schedules will be delivered at the feast, but we’ve got the patrol chart started already.”

Cedric picked up from there. “Two rounds each week, minimum. You’ll rotate houses every month.”

Elora pulled out a folded parchment and laid it across her knee. “We’ll get everyone paired off before dinner. Until then, keep an eye on first-years.”

Hermione scribbled something on her page. “Are we allowed to coordinate with house heads directly or should everything go through you two?”

“Both,” Elora said. “We don’t mind being notified.”

Cedric looked around the compartment. “You’ll each get copies of the rulebook, patrol shifts, incident forms, and owl stamps for emergencies. Try not to use them unless something’s actually on fire.”

Padma leaned over. “What counts as on fire?”

Theo said, deadpan, “The fire, probably.”

She gave him a look. “Helpful.”

Cedric rubbed his jaw. “If you’re unsure, use your badge to flag us or a teacher. If you forget your badge, shout. If you forget how to shout, write it down and throw it at someone.”

Anthony flipped his card again. “Do we get points if we hit a teacher?”

Elora didn’t look up from the schedule. “Negative points if it’s Professor Snape. Actual house-points if it’s Professor Rosier.”

Neville chuckled lightly.

“Right,” Cedric said, standing again. “For now, meet back here five minutes before arrival. Any problems, questions, code violations, or spontaneous corridor concerts, flag them then.”

Elora rolled the parchment back up. “And don’t lose the badges. You’ll have to write to Dumbledore personally for a new one. With reasons.”

Everyone looked vaguely alarmed.

Cedric smiled. “Welcome aboard.”

After the older prefects filed out, only the new ones remained, looking at each other.

Neville let out a sigh loud enough to draw a look from Padma. “Why was I even picked?”

Hermione gave his arm a pat, matter-of-fact. “You’re one of the youngest Patronus casters in the school, Neville. Top scores in Charms last term. And you beat me in Herbology, which still offends me.”

Daphne raised her eyebrows but nodded. Padma gave a small tilt of her head. Even Anthony looked vaguely annoyed.

Neville shifted in his seat, spine was finally remembering it existed.

“I saw Mr Black on the train,” Ernie said, half-turning in his seat. “Wonder if it’s related to what happens lately.”

Theo gave a slow nod. “He’s the new Defence professor.”

That shocked all of them. Ernie looked ready to faint. “You’re joking.”

Hannah blinked. “Seriously?”

“Yep.” Theo didn’t elaborate.

Hermione leaned forward slightly. “How do you know that?”

“I just do.”

That shut things up for a second.

Then Hannah asked, “So what about Professor Rosier? Is he coming back?”

The room went still.

Padma looked to Hermione. “You heard anything?”

“No,” Hermione said.

Theo sat up a bit. “He’s alive. I know that much.”

Anthony raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Neville frowned. “Is he… alright?”

No one answered that.

Daphne stared at the table. “He wouldn’t leave without saying a goodbye.”

Hermione sighed through her nose. “He didn’t do anything the normal way.”

Hannah’s knuckles were white against her knee. “Headmaster said he was a professor whether he had magic or not. I don’t think he’d leave us that easily.”

Nobody argued. Neville shifted in his seat. Padma rubbed a thumb along the edge of her schedule sheet.

“He used to teach with light and voice spells,” she said quietly. “All the time. Lecture halls lit up like theatres. Now that his magic’s gone…”

Hermione didn’t wait for her to finish. “He wouldn’t leave.”

She said it in a whisper. More to herself than others.

“I’m sure of it.”

Neville bit down on his lip. Hard. He kept chewing for a second, then straightened.

“I heard some rumours.”

Everyone looked his way.

Daphne turned her head. “What kind of rumours?”

Neville looked out the window. Trees flashing past. Sky dull with cloud.

“I was out with my gran,” he said. “We went north for the break. Magical woods. For rare roots. Herbs that only grow in magical places. That kind of thing.”

No one rushed him. They let him talk.

“We passed through five different forests. Every place we went, people said the same thing.”

He drew in a breath.

“Man and a dragon. Always walking. Didn’t stay long. Didn’t talk much either. Just… passed through.”

Padma frowned. “That could be anyone.”

Neville shook his head. “They say the man didn’t use a wand.”

Anthony stopped flipping his card.

Neville went on. “Said he talked to the animals. Birds. Badgers. Foxes. Trees too, sometimes. One bloke said he saw vines move when he passed. Like they listened.”

Daphne blinked slowly.

Hermione leaned forward. “What type of dragon?”

“Small. Crimson and black. Curled around his shoulders sometimes. Or just followed him. Some thought it was a chimera cub, but a squib at one of the old waystations said he knew dragons, it was small but it was definitely a dragon.”

No one spoke for a moment.

Padma’s voice was quiet. “You think it’s him?”

Neville shrugged. “I don’t know who else it would be.”

Hermione’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t argue.

Anthony stood up, stretched, and pocketed the frog card. “If it is Professor Rosier… does that mean he left?”

No one answered that.

They went to tend their business after that.

When the train finally screeched into Hogsmeade, it was raining sideways. Lightning tore open the sky and the wind dragged half a tree across the platform. Thunder rolled in close behind. Typical welcome.

Hagrid bellowed something about “first years” and started herding them toward the lake, coat flapping behind him. The rest were shoved toward the carriages, Prefects yelling over the storm, robes plastered to legs, luggage nearly sailing off into the trees. No one looked particularly triumphant about being back.

Inside the castle, the Great Hall glowed warm and golden. Candles floated high overhead, the ceiling rumbling. The first years filed in looking like they’d barely survived a shipwreck. Everyone else followed, soaked, cranky, a few of them steaming slightly from rain meeting drying charms.

People were scanning the staff table already.

There was Sirius Black, elbow on the armrest, grinning wide. He gave a nod to the Gryffindor table.

But that wasn’t what had everyone murmuring.

Where Cassian should’ve been sat was a woman in pink.

Head to toe. Pale, bubblegum pink. She sat very straight, hands folded, smile too wide.

Silence rolled through the hall.

When Dumbledore stood, it snapped attention back.

“Welcome back,” he said, lifting his hands. “To both the old faces and the new. I hope your summers were restful, or at least survivable. We begin a new term together, and as ever, I trust you’ll bring your curiosity, your courage, and a healthy respect for the staff’s rapidly fraying patience.”

Scattered laughter.

Dumbledore went on, “I would like to introduce a new addition to our faculty this year. Please welcome Sirius Black, who will be taking over as our Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.”

Sirius kicked back in his chair and flashed the Great Hall wide grin.

“Evening, students,” he said, a bit too loud.

He tugged his sleeve like it might make him look more professional. It didn’t.

“For those of you squinting and whispering ‘is that Sirius Black?’ Yes, it is, I.”

A few students laughed. McGonagall’s fingers twitched.

“I’ve been asked, rather reluctantly, I suspect, to teach you Defence Against the Dark Arts this year. Which means I’ll be in charge of making sure none of you get turned into puddings, pincushions, or dark artefact magnets.

“I come highly recommended. My qualifications include surviving Azkaban, being framed for murder, not dying in a cave full of Dementors, and being more fun than the last five Defence professors put together. Which, frankly, isn’t a high bar. And yes, including Remus.”

A Ravenclaw muttered something. Sirius smirked.

“I also happen to be the proud owner of a dragon-baiting scar I will absolutely show you if you’re annoying enough.”

He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “You can call me Professor Black. Or Sirius. Or Sir. Or, if you’re in trouble, probably just ‘please don’t give me detention.'”

He grinned wider.

“Sirius Orion Black, at your service.”

Then he held up a hand and added, “This year… will be a great SOB story.”

Groans. Applause. A few confused first-years.

Sirius sat back down, satisfied.

Dumbledore didn’t even blink. McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose.

Dumbledore raised his goblet. “Now-“

“Hem hem.”

The woman in pink shifted in her seat. That same smile still plastered on.

Dumbledore didn’t react at first. Then, slowly, he turned. “Miss Umbridge.”

She adjusted her cuffs. “Headmaster, I believe a second introduction is in order.”

“I see.” He studied her a moment. “How would you prefer I introduce you?”

She gave a sniff. “As the new History of Magic professor, of course.”

Gasps scattered through the room.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. Sprout’s mouth pressed into a line. The Weasley twins were already halfway into burning the tablecloth.

Dumbledore didn’t blink. “That’s curious. Professor Rosier has not resigned.”

Her smile faltered.

“And as Hogwarts does not tend to stack professors on a single subject, I’m afraid we have no vacancy there,” Dumbledore continued. “Should Professor Rosier choose to take a sabbatical, Professor Binns has already expressed interest in returning to his previous post.”

Umbridge’s mouth twitched. “Hem hem. The Ministry is concerned, Headmaster. Professor Rosier has, over the past few years, clearly established that Professor Binns’s curriculum was… insufficient. Outdated. Lacking in rigour.”

Her gaze flicked down the table. “And as Professor Rosier has yet to appear, the Minister felt it prudent I arrive early. Just in case.”

No one spoke.

Somewhere in the middle of the hall, a fork hit a plate.

Dumbledore looked at her for a long moment.

Just as he was about to say something, the ceiling cracked with lightning. It was so bright, it was as if someone cast a Lumos. Half the Hall flinched. Students shielded their eyes. Plates clattered as a gust swept through the room, hot and dry.

Then came the sound.

A split-second after the light, thunder cracked so loud it rattled teeth. Someone near the Ravenclaw table yelped.

The main doors groaned. Then slammed open.

Every head turned.

A figure stood there, framed in the lightning.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Got caught talking to a tree.”

Dumbledore’s eyes crinkled. “I hope it was a fruitful discussion.”

“Oh, it was. Real groundbreaking stuff.”

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