When Vinson arrived at the Great Hall, he found that a number of students were already there enjoying breakfast. As expected, almost none of them were first-years. That was hardly a surprise; to newcomers, Hogwarts was little short of a labyrinth. The constantly shifting staircases alone were enough to make most first-years dizzy, and unless they were lucky enough to be guided by older students, it was rare for any of them to locate the Great Hall reliably on the very first morning. It was the same story every year.
However, this year felt ever so slightly different.
Halfway through Vinson's quiet breakfast, he felt a change ripple through the atmosphere of the hall. Conversations softened, utensils paused in mid-air, and one after another, students lifted their heads and gazed toward the enormous double doors. A low wave of whispers spread across the hall.
Harry Potter had arrived.
At that moment, Harry stepped into the Great Hall with Ron Weasley beside him. What immediately caught the eye was the dusty piece of parchment Harry was holding. Ron appeared both irritated and bewildered as he muttered, "We actually found the way. Seriously—who designed the staircases here?"
"I think it's kind of interesting," Harry replied with an easy grin.
But as he looked around and caught sight of dozens of curious eyes staring directly at him, his smile stiffened. He had expected some attention, of course, but being confronted with the full weight of everyone's curiosity still made him uncomfortable.
Ron noticed the attention as well. He shrank into his robes slightly, leaned toward Harry, and whispered, "Harry, where exactly did you get that map?"
"Secret," Harry answered mysteriously.
The truth was simple: the only reason he and Ron had reached the Great Hall so quickly was the map Vinson had placed inside the little bag he'd given Harry. Harry hadn't expected the man to include something so remarkably practical. The Teacher had even prepared a map of Hogwarts—Harry couldn't help feeling a wave of gratitude.
The parchment looked old, its edges yellowed with age, but the passages and writing were crisp and clear. Even several hidden routes were marked out in fine ink. In the upper right corner, a short handwritten line read: Hogwarts Map – Seventh Edition, created by an unnamed Hufflepuff. Harry needed no imagination to guess whose handiwork that really was.
After tucking the map away, Harry and Ron walked cautiously toward the Gryffindor table and took their seats. The whispering around them gradually faded as students returned to their breakfasts, apparently deciding it would be rude to continue staring. Harry released a quiet breath of relief.
He picked up a slice of golden toast while Ron was already devouring sausages, muttering indistinctly with his mouth full. Only after a few bites did Harry finally have time to take in the surroundings. His eyes drifted toward the staff table—where he froze momentarily, recognizing Vinson sitting there calmly, enjoying his tea.
It wasn't until Vinson raised a hand and waved lightly that Harry snapped out of his daze.
He set his toast down at once, wiped his hands, and whispered to Ron, "I'll be right back. Need to talk to someone."
"Huh? Where you going?" Ron mumbled through a mouthful of bacon.
Harry didn't answer; he had already risen from his seat. Ron watched him leave with a puzzled expression as Harry made his way toward the staff table.
Vinson remained seated, leisurely sipping his tea until Harry approached. "Good morning, Harry," he greeted with a relaxed smile. "You look well rested."
"Teacher…" Harry hesitated, "How did you—"
"—end up teaching at Hogwarts?" Vinson finished for him, reading his question with ease. Harry nodded.
Setting his teacup down, Vinson replied lightly, "I suddenly developed an interest in teaching. So, I came."
"Just… like that?" Harry blinked.
"Of course," Vinson said with an amused shrug. "You know I'm rather good at teaching. Besides, Professor Kettleburn trusts me immensely. You should have heard of him—former Care of Magical Creatures Professor."
Harry nodded slowly. It made sense. He had already learned so much about Potions and Charms from Vinson. It wasn't strange at all that the man would be welcomed at Hogwarts.
After a brief pause, Harry mustered the nerve to ask, "Then… will you still teach me Potions and Charms?"
Vinson laughed softly and tapped Harry on the head with his wand. "Professor Flitwick is far better than I am when it comes to Charms—he'll be your Charms professor. And Professor Snape… well, let's not discuss him right now. In any case, you won't need to worry about the teaching quality here. If you have questions, though, you can always come to me."
Harry nodded, reassured but still disappointed. "What about Care of Magical Creatures? Can I go to your class?"
"That's a subject you can only choose in your third year," Vinson explained. "Besides, I've already seen your schedule—the class time overlaps exactly with your Potions lessons."
"Oh…" Harry looked deflated but accepted the explanation. Even so, his mind had already begun plotting. If he slipped away from Potions just once or twice, surely that would be harmless… right? What was the new Potions professor's name again?
Ah, yes—Professor Snape. He'd seen him briefly the previous day.
Hopefully Professor Snape would be someone reasonable…
After Harry returned to his seat, Ron had already finished cleaning every plate within reach.
"Do you know Professor Vinson?" Ron immediately asked in a mixture of awe and envy. "I saw you! You two were talking like old friends!"
"Sort of," Harry answered after thinking about it. He didn't see any reason to hide the truth.
Ron's eyes shone with excitement as he leaned in. "Wow—mate, you know a professor! That's brilliant!"
Harry frowned in confusion. "Does that really matter?"
"Does it matter?" Ron gasped. "Of course it does! That's a professor!" Lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, he continued, "Think about it—when you get into trouble—my brothers say they've been caught loads of times doing pranks, but if you're on good terms with a professor, maybe they'll—"
"Stop!" Harry cut him off quickly, shaking his head. "I don't want to cause Professor Vinson any trouble."
As he spoke, Harry glanced toward Vinson again. The man had risen from his seat and taken out a gleaming silver pocket watch, checking the time with his usual unhurried composure.
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