Chapter 45: The New DADA Professor

The Great Hall sparkled with floating candles, each one casting warm golden pools of light over the heads of students both new and old. The enchanted ceiling above reflected the sky outside, dappled with stars, streaked faintly with the last hues of dusk. The Sorting Hat sat proudly on its three-legged stool at the front of the hall, unmoving save for the occasional twitch at its brim as the Sorting Ceremony began.

First-years shuffled nervously in a single-file line, their eyes wide and expressions ranging from awe to dread. A hush fell over the crowd as Professor McGonagall unrolled a scroll and cleared her throat.

The Sorting began.

Ethan leaned back slightly in his seat, expression unreadable as the new students were called forth. One by one, they approached the stool, the hat placed upon their heads by Professor McGonagall with practiced ease.

"Brennan, Ophelia!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Calloway, Martin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Dolohov, Astrid!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

And so it went. Ethan watched quietly, feeling the slight drag of time stretch over the proceedings. The nervous shuffles, the curious stares at the ceiling, the way some students sighed in relief while others blinked back disappointment. It all followed the same rhythm as last year, as it likely had for centuries.

The final name was called, and as the last of the first-years slipped into their newly assigned house, Dumbledore stood.

His robes shimmered faintly with deep midnight blues, and his beard looked whiter than usual under the candlelight. His arms opened in a welcoming gesture, and the hall slowly hushed.

"Welcome, one and all, to another year at Hogwarts," he said, voice gentle but carrying easily across the room. "Whether you are joining us for the first time, or returning for another chapter in your education, know that this school is your home for the months ahead, and we, its staff, are glad to have you."

Ethan barely heard the words.

His eyes were fixed on the staff table. He was waiting for the moment Dumbledore announced her introduction.

Chloe Wright, his mother, looked out across the students not as a parent, but as one of the professors now.

And when Dumbledore's next words came, they landed like a weight in Ethan's chest.

"As many of you will have heard, Professor Quirrel will not be returning this year," Dumbledore said calmly, though a few students exchanged knowing glances and snickers. "Instead, we are pleased to welcome a new professor to our ranks. Please give your respect and curiosity to Professor Wright, who will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts from now on."

There it was.

The cursed position.

Ethan's jaw tensed.

Applause rose from the tables, polite and obligatory from some, enthusiastic from others who hadn't yet realized the significance. Chloe nodded graciously, giving no sign of discomfort or uncertainty. She looked calm. Collected. Because of course she wouldnt know about the curse.

But Ethan… Ethan felt a crawling unease work it's way into him.

Defense Against the Dark Arts. That position.

The job was a revolving door, one tainted ever since Tom Riddle had been denied it decades ago. Ethan remembered the lore, remembered every teacher who had filled the post only to vanish by year's end, sometimes worse.

Quirrell, whose body had been taken by Voldemort was only the most recent example.

Next, it should be Lupin. Then Moody. Umbridge. Snape. All fated to leave. Some damaged, others disgraced or dead.

Was that all just a coincidence? No.

And now his mother sat in that chair.

He stared at her from across the room, watching the way her eyes scanned the students with quiet professionalism, unaware, of the legacy tied to that role.

Had she known what she was walking into?

Had Dumbledore told her? Did he think it didn't matter? That she'd be different?

Or had she volunteered, thinking she could do some good? But what about her other job?

Ethan clenched his hands beneath the table. She wasn't unstable like Quirrell. From what he knew, nothing was looming over her besides the recent Lockhart trial, but that didn't matter to magic as old and vengeful as the kind Voldemort left behind. Intent didn't matter to curses.

He didn't touch much of his food when it appeared, the plates blooming with roasts, stews, puddings, and pies. Around him, Ravenclaws chatted excitedly about summer holidays and books they'd read, the latest brooms and Quidditch gossip.

But Ethan's mind was far elsewhere. This year should have been a stroll with no issues to worry about. Why did this have to happen? Out of every wizard and witch, it was her who was chosen?

If it was someone he didnt know, he would not deal with whatever fallout the professor endured since. It wouldn't involve him. Now?

He couldn't finish the thought.

She had survived the Ministry. She had prosecuted a fraud. She had weathered press, threats, and politics. And now she was walking straight into the one seat at Hogwarts soaked in hexes and ill fate.

And there wasn't a thing he could do about it.

No amount of preparation or second-guessing could protect someone from a curse like that. He didn't even know how the jinx worked. If Dumbledore couldn't break it, how could he?

But he had to do something. Right? He had spent so much time talking to her over letters and had spent the whole summer with her.

Heck, he was the one who begged her to expose Lockhart. And now what?

Instead of dealing with the fraud which was Lockhart, he had to worry about this, because, he actually cared about her.

Even if she wasnt real like he would want to believe, she became the only person in this world he cared about. And now the world was already trying to take her away.

He couldn't just sit by and wait for her to be broken.

The feast blurred by. The plates emptied. The candles began to dim. And the Prefects started calling the first-years to follow them out.

As the students began to rise, and the Great Hall emptied in its usual current of motion, Ethan cast one last look at the staff table.

Chloe Wright was talking to Professor Sinistra now, nodding slightly, lips moving with quiet words Ethan couldn't hear.

But he didn't need to.

He already knew what he'd do.

If Hogwarts intended to take something from him, it would find a very different opponent waiting this time. He wasn't just a first-year anymore. He was a wizard with knowledge of things other would die for.

And no curse was going to take her away.