When Sylas learned that Gandalf had applied for the position of Flight Professor, he was utterly astonished.
As far as Sylas knew, Gandalf had always been a wanderer, a grey-robed traveler who roamed tirelessly across the western lands of Middle-earth, never staying in one place for long.
So why would the Grey Wanderer suddenly wish to become a professor? And of all things, a professor of flight?
Accepting such a position meant Gandalf would be residing at Hogwarts Castle for quite some time, a notion that seemed completely out of character.
Faced with Sylas's confusion, Gandalf merely chuckled, his eyes gleaming with quiet amusement.
"It's all thanks to you," he said. "The Ministry of Magic you founded has established countless Floo Network fireplaces across the western continent. This old man no longer needs to ride for days to contact or rally the Free Peoples. Now, I can step through a fireplace and arrive anywhere in an instant. With so much time on my hands… I thought I might as well share my rather decent flying skills with your students. Would you accept me as a professor?"
Sylas's surprise turned into delight. How could anyone refuse such an offer from Gandalf himself?
"Welcome! Of course, you're welcome!" he said at once, though he still protested lightly. "But Gandalf, surely the post of Flight Professor is beneath your talents. Perhaps you'd prefer History of Magic? Or any other subject that catches your fancy?"
Gandalf smiled and shook his head.
"No, no. Flying suits me perfectly, simple, enjoyable, and just challenging enough to keep this old mind awake."
Seeing his insistence, Sylas could only relent, and thus Gandalf officially became the Flight Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
And indeed, as Gandalf had said, the teaching load was hardly taxing. The flight course met only once a week, and it was compulsory solely for first-year students. It was practically the equivalent of a physical education class from Sylas's previous life , perhaps even easier.
Aside from the lessons, the Flight Professor was responsible for organizing Quidditch matches, but compared to the duties of other professors, Gandalf's workload was blissfully light.
Other subjects required three or four lessons a week across all seven year groups, leaving their professors with barely a moment to breathe.
Once all eight first-year professors had been appointed, Sylas formally assigned their duties and began preparing the necessary course materials.
He also appointed Edward, the Transfiguration Professor, and loyal butler of Hogwarts Castle, as Vice-Headmaster, entrusting him with managing school operations and the opening ceremony.
Sylas himself took no teaching post; he served as Headmaster.
The castle grounds were immense. Sylas claimed Amon Sûl Tower and its surrounding gardens as his private residence, closed to all others. The remaining wings of the fortress became the school proper.
Following the tradition of magical world, Sylas divided the students into four houses, symbolized by the Phoenix, Thunderbird, Dragon, and Serpent. The enchanted Sorting Hat would assign students based on their traits, representing the virtues of Courage, Wisdom, Loyalty, and Cunning, echoes of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin.
Over the following decade, Sylas was far from idle. He ventured across the lands, from the southern cities he had yet to "check in" to the ancient ruins of Angmar in the north, gathering powerful relics and magical resources.
Among his creations during that time was the Sorting Hat itself, crafted from dragonskin and imbued with the collective thoughts of Sylas, Gandalf, Elrond, and Galadriel. From their combined will emerged a sentient consciousness, witty, perceptive, and fond of both conversation and music.
The Hat often hummed to itself and would frequently summon Sylas or Alvin to listen to its latest compositions.
With preparations complete, Edward entered the chamber containing the Book of Admission and the Quill of Acceptance. There, he reviewed the names of children eligible for enrollment that September and began sending out acceptance letters accordingly.
By mid-July, the village of Hogsmeade, one of the first wizarding settlements where wizards and Muggles coexisted, bustled with activity.
Since the earliest days, ordinary folk had both revered and envied wizards. To them, these wielders of magic were beings set apart, powerful, mysterious, and untouchable.
And so, though they lived side by side, an unspoken boundary remained.
Within this world stood the Bailey family, a modest wizarding household currently celebrating their youngest son Adam's eleventh birthday.
Mr. Bailey had once been part of the first accelerated magic training program, an average student among 540 peers, but upon graduation, he joined the Department of Magical Transportation at the Ministry of Magic.
Mr. Bailey's chief responsibility within the Department of Magical Transportation was to oversee the setup and maintenance of the Floo Network, ensuring every connected fireplace across the western lands functioned smoothly and safely.
Though his magical abilities were modest compared to some of his peers, Bailey never once took his place in the wizarding world for granted. He often recalled, with quiet gratitude, the day he had passed the entrance exam, the moment his life had changed forever.
For a boy born into an ordinary household, becoming a wizard was like an impossible dream. His life was transformed entirely.
Magic had become the heart of his existence. With a simple wave of his wand, the broom would sweep the floor on its own, dishes would leap into the sink and scrub themselves clean, and the fireplace, now linked to the Floo Network, could take him anywhere in an instant.
All he needed to do was step into the hearth, toss in a pinch of Floo Powder, and speak his destination aloud. A flash of green fire later, and he would emerge from another fireplace halfway across the continent.
Over the years, Bailey married the woman he loved, and together they had two sons and a daughter. Their home in Hogsmeade was cozy, alive with laughter and the occasional magical mishap, and Bailey often thought there was no greater happiness than this simple, spell-filled life.
Today, however, was a day of special joy, it was his eldest son Adam Bailey's eleventh birthday.
Bailey had left work early, stopping by Diagon Alley to pick up a magical birthday cake, one that shimmered with enchantments and sang its own tune.
That evening, the Bailey household glowed with warmth. The whole family gathered around the table as colorful candles flickered with dancing sparks, and a chorus of miniature chocolate figures hopped and twirled atop the cake, singing a lively rendition of "Happy Birthday."
Yet amid the laughter and the music, Mr. Bailey found his thoughts drifting.
He gazed absently toward the window, where the twilight sky shimmered faintly with the reflection of far-off stars.
As a Ministry employee, he knew more than most, word had spread through the magical community that Lord Sylas, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, was preparing to open the school's doors for its very first class of students.
And though the celebration should have filled him with nothing but pride, an odd mixture of anticipation and anxiety tugged at his chest.
Would his son be among the chosen few to receive an invitation from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?
He had seen the castle with his own eyes, its endless towers and libraries, its enchanted halls filled with knowledge and wonder.
In quiet moments, Mr. Bailey often found himself haunted by regret, countless times he wished he had studied harder back during his accelerated training at Hogwarts.
He had done his best, he knew that. His aptitude simply wasn't exceptional, and mastering even the basic spells back then had taken every ounce of his effort. Yet the feeling lingered, the sense that he could have reached higher, seen more, been more.
After all, once he had left Hogwarts Castle, that vast repository of magic and mystery, he had never been able to return. Never again would he walk beneath its floating candles or browse its endless library of arcane tomes.
Now, hearing the news that Lord Sylas was reopening the school and recruiting a new generation of students, Bailey's heart burned with both nostalgia and hope.
He thought of his eldest son, Adam, and silently prayed that perhaps, by fortune's grace, the boy would be chosen.
Still, he dared not speak of it aloud. He didn't want to raise false hopes, least of all in his son. If Adam wasn't selected, the disappointment would be too cruel. So he kept his secret to himself, forcing his expression into calm cheer as the family laughed and celebrated.
But Adam, the sharp-eyed birthday boy, noticed.
"Dad, what's wrong?" he asked, tilting his head curiously. "You keep looking out the window."
The question jolted Mr. Bailey out of his reverie. He blinked, about to answer with some lighthearted excuse, when a sudden, sharp tap-tap-tap echoed through the room.
Everyone turned toward the sound.
At the window sat a snow-white owl, elegant and still, its amber eyes gleaming in the dim light. The faint glint of a wax-sealed envelope was clutched in its talons.
The room went utterly silent.
Mrs. Bailey gasped softly, while the younger siblings leaned over the table in awe.
Only Mr. Bailey moved, his expression transforming from confusion to pure joy.
"By the stars…" he whispered, his voice trembling slightly.
He shot up from his chair, nearly knocking it over in his haste, and hurried to the window.
...
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