One Year Without the Professor

Tuesday night. A year, today. A year since the Professor said “Welcome to Magic University” and vanished in a puff of his own importance.

Every hour since, a new class of first-years has come through the door, been sealed in the lecture hall and set about finding the artefact that could bring him back. Every hour I have watched them from my perch. Some find it. Some come close. All of them, without exception, are kinder to me than the Professor ever was.

I have learnt a great deal this year. First-years who whisper are usually onto something, and first-years who shout usually are not. A sultana is not a bribe if it is offered sincerely. And, from the Headmistress in Manly, tea solves most of what magic can’t.

Happy anniversary, Professor, wherever you are. Your owl is keeping the class in order. Mostly.