A New Chapter at Hogwarts [Drarry] ✔

Chapter 4: First Impressions

Harry awoke to the gentle glow of morning light filtering through the thick, velvet curtains of his new quarters. The soft, golden rays streamed through the gaps in the fabric, casting long, dappled shadows across the stone walls. The room was bathed in a warm, ethereal light, which danced along the smooth floor, merging with the faint, flickering remnants of the fire in the hearth, still burning low from the night before. For a moment, Harry lay still, simply staring up at the arched ceiling, letting the quiet serenity of the morning wash over him.

Today was his first day as a professor at Hogwarts, and though he had slept well, a knot of anticipation stirred in his chest. The castle, always a place of comfort and familiarity, now felt like it held something new for him—a role he hadn't expected to take on, but one he had committed to nonetheless. The nerves fluttered faintly in his stomach, but they weren't unpleasant. Rather, they were the nerves of embarking on something unknown, something that had the potential to be transformative, both for him and for his students.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he pushed back the covers, feeling the coolness of the stone floor under his feet as they made contact with the ground. The room around him was cosy but spacious, just as he had envisioned when he first stepped inside. His personal belongings—photographs, books, small trinkets from his time as an Auror—were neatly scattered about, reminders of the life he had lived and the one he was now beginning. In a corner near the window, Hedwig's empty cage sat quietly, a bittersweet reminder of his lost companion.

After a quick shower, the warm water helping to clear his mind, Harry dressed in his teaching robes, carefully ensuring that they were straight and presentable. He caught his reflection in the mirror, studying himself. The man staring back at him was older, his features more defined than they had been in his school days, his green eyes carrying a depth that came from the experiences he had lived through—the battles fought, the people lost, the victories and regrets. His hair, as usual, refused to cooperate, sticking up in a way that had long since ceased to bother him. Sighing softly, he ran a hand through it one last time, giving up any hope of taming it, and turned to leave.

As he made his way through the quiet corridors of the castle, the familiar scent of ancient stone and magical energy filled his senses. The warmth of the morning sun filtered through the high, narrow windows, casting long beams of light that illuminated the dust motes swirling in the air. The castle was still, the early morning quiet broken only by the faint sounds of students beginning to stir, their footsteps echoing faintly in the distance as they prepared for the day ahead.

Harry approached the Great Hall, his footsteps slowing as he neared the large oak doors that stood as tall and imposing as ever. He paused briefly before entering, hearing the low hum of voices beyond, the familiar sounds of students laughing, chatting, and enjoying their breakfast. When he finally pushed open the doors, the noise momentarily quieted as dozens of heads turned toward him. The bustling hall, filled with the smell of food and the warmth of the enchanted ceiling overhead, suddenly felt charged with curiosity. Whispers swept across the room as students nudged one another, pointing toward him, their eyes wide with fascination.

Harry kept his expression neutral, a faint smile on his lips as he made his way to the staff table. This was a scene he had expected—the same curious stares that had followed him throughout much of his life. Only now, they were different. He was no longer the student who had saved the wizarding world; now, he was their teacher. The weight of their expectations pressed on him, but he refused to let it unnerve him. Instead, he nodded to those who caught his eye, acknowledging their curiosity but remaining focused.

At the staff table, the professors greeted him warmly. Professor McGonagall gave him an encouraging nod from her seat at the head, her sharp gaze softening as she took him in. There was a subtle pride in her expression, and it eased some of the tension that had been building in his chest. He had always admired McGonagall, not just as a teacher but as a figure of strength and integrity. Her belief in him had been one of the reasons he had agreed to this position, and now, seeing her approval, Harry felt a surge of determination.