Early the next morning, soft sunlight filtered through the window and spilled across Wes Elwin's office.
At that moment, he was completely focused on the class schedule in his hands, the look on his face one of pure satisfaction.
Just as he'd expected, Runic Magic turned out to be an incredibly niche course.
Fewer than thirty students had chosen it, and it was only scheduled three times a week.
Wes was so excited he couldn't stop patting his legs, cheering to himself:
"Perfect."
Still, despite his excitement, Wes had no intention of taking his new job lightly.
Though he hadn't prepared stacks of lesson plans like some of the other professors, he was determined to do a proper job—especially for his very first class at Hogwarts. The last thing he wanted was a flood of complaints that got him booted from the school.
"First class is at 3 PM. I'd better give it everything I've got."
Before he knew it, afternoon arrived.
When Wes strolled into the classroom, he was pleasantly surprised to find all the students already seated and waiting.
What really caught him off guard, though, was spotting Hermione Granger—a brand-new first-year student—among the class.
Walking to the blackboard, Wes calmly picked up a piece of chalk and wrote his name in bold, confident strokes:
"Wes Elwin."
"First of all," he said, turning around, "thank you all sincerely for choosing Runic Magic."
"Secondly, since our group is small, I'd like everyone to introduce themselves. I'm confident I can remember all your names."
A ripple of light laughter came from the students below.
One by one, they began introducing themselves in an orderly manner.
When it was Hermione's turn, all eyes shifted to her.
After all, every other student in the class was at least fifth-year, all of them with some magical foundation—and likely some knowledge of runes.
Hermione, a first-year from a Muggle background, had chosen such a niche and challenging subject, and it shocked everyone.
She introduced herself with the pride and poise of a confident young peacock, her sparkling eyes never once leaving Wes's face.
Once introductions were over, Wes began his lecture.
"Runes are an ancient and deeply mysterious form of magic," he began, his voice echoing through the room.
The students immediately opened their books and began taking notes with focused determination.
Throughout the lesson, Wes cleverly inserted personal tales of his own magical adventures—his thrilling stories often prompting gasps of amazement from the class.
"In short, the applications of runes are incredibly broad—whether for setting traps, strengthening defenses, raising alerts, or even in the most complex branches of alchemy, they're absolutely essential."
"If you have any questions during your studies, feel free to ask at any time."
The moment he finished speaking, almost every hand in the room shot up.
"Wow… this is way more enthusiastic than I expected."
Glancing at the clock on the wall, Wes smiled and said,
"Good thing we've got time. One question per person."
He pointed casually to a boy in the first row on his left:
"Mr. Weasley, you're up."
The boy jumped to his feet.
"No need to be so tense, Mr. Weasley. Let's all just relax," Wes said warmly, leaning back against the desk.
The boy shrugged and sat back down obediently.
"Professor, were those adventure stories you told us really true?"
"Of course," Wes answered without hesitation.
The classroom instantly burst into another wave of amazed gasps.
Weasley looked like he wanted to ask more, but Wes quickly cut him off.
"One question each, Mr. Weasley."
With a sigh, Weasley clamped his mouth shut.
The girl behind him eagerly leaned forward.
"Professor, during your adventures, did you ever come across any rare treasures?"
Everyone leaned in, ears perked, waiting for the answer.
Wes stood up and spun in place gracefully, spreading his arms.
"Let's just say… a professor's modest salary could never buy this fine robe I'm wearing."
Wes's thoughts drifted back to those difficult days navigating labyrinths during his past adventures.
"I must warn you all sincerely," he said with concern, eyeing the curious young witches and wizards before him.
"Those kinds of things are extremely dangerous—one careless step could cost you your life."
His deliberately grim tone had the intended effect—an immediate silence fell over the class.
Still, a few bold students continued asking about his adventures until the sharp chime of the dismissal bell rang.
"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, that's the end of today's lesson."
Wes smiled and gestured toward the door.
But Hermione raised her hand high.
"Miss Granger?"
"Professor, you haven't assigned any homework."
Every student turned and glared at her like they could hex her on the spot.
Wes gave a helpless shrug.
"I'd rather not scare off the few students I have. What are you all waiting for?"
The class instantly burst into action—scrambling to pack up their things and hurry out, all celebrating the lack of homework.
All except Hermione, who looked utterly dejected.
---
A month flew by in the blink of an eye.
Wes gradually settled into the rhythm of teaching: three classes a week, one assignment per week, and then carefully grading the students' essays.
Surprisingly, some of the students' ideas, though often naive, gave him quite a bit of inspiration.
The library became a second home to Wes, and before long, students began whispering in awe about how this young professor was even more studious than they were. Unexpectedly, he sparked a wave of genuine academic enthusiasm throughout the school.
But that weekend, instead of heading to the library, Wes made a rare visit to Hagrid's cabin.
The moment Hagrid saw him, the half-giant pulled him into an enormous bear hug.
"Wes!—Oh, I suppose I should call you Professor Elwin now."
"Cut it out, Hagrid," Wes chuckled.
"It sounds way more natural when you just call me Wes."
It was clear the two were quite close.
Hagrid enthusiastically offered Wes one of his infamous rock cakes. Wes looked at the thing—hard enough to smash stone—and politely declined.
Outside, it was late autumn. Inside the cabin, the fireplace crackled warmly, filling the room with the comforting scent of burning wood.
Fang, Hagrid's overly sensitive and timid dog, lay stretched across the rug, visibly enjoying Wes's gentle strokes.
Wes took a careful look around the wooden cabin. The décor was rough and primitive, even bordering on shabby—but scattered throughout were rare and magical materials: soft tufts of fur, shed horns, and even a few strands of unicorn hair.
Only someone like Hagrid—Hogwarts' devoted gamekeeper—could have collected such priceless resources.
Despite being a true master in the field of magical creatures, Hagrid held only a modest position as keykeeper and Forbidden Forest ranger. His salary was laughably low—he had to think twice before buying a pint of ale at the pub.
Wes ran his fingers over one of the rare pelts and thought to himself:
If Hagrid were a little more pragmatic, he could be making a fortune selling these materials.
But he also knew—Hagrid was loyal and pure-hearted. He would never betray his principles, or the trust of Hogwarts and Professor Dumbledore, no matter how poor he might be.
"Hagrid, have you ever considered improving your lifestyle a little?"
"Improve it? Why? I think it's just fine. I'm happy every day."
Hagrid blinked in confusion, clearly not understanding the question.
Wes swallowed the rest of his words.
"Forget it. Just me talking nonsense."
They sipped hot tea as they swapped stories of adventure and danger.
Wes recounted his thrilling encounters with strange magical creatures, and Hagrid's eyes lit up every time—completely absorbed, as if he were right there beside him.
Before long, the sky turned dark.
Wes politely declined Hagrid's invitation to stay for dinner. He knew all too well that his sensitive stomach wasn't ready for the culinary challenges of a half-giant's cooking.