The kettle had been rattling ever since dawn.
"At last!" it crowed, puffing steam like a jubilant tea-dragon. "Hogwarts! The hallowed halls of learning! The corridors to conquer! The ghosts to outwit! The chance to show that I, a kettle, am superior to every other enchanted object ever created!"
"You were sulking yesterday," Elias reminded it, tightening the last rune-thread around his notes. His fingers moved with practiced speed, securing bundles of parchment in neat stacks. "You said, and I quote, 'A castle full of teenagers is a nightmare I refuse to endure.'"
The kettle clanked its lid indignantly. "I was setting the stage. Every hero needs a dramatic mood swing before a journey."
"Mm. Keep talking like that and I'll introduce you to Peeves personally."
The kettle froze. "You wouldn't dare."
Elias grinned. "Oh, I would."
But before he left for Hogwarts, there was something else he needed to do. He set aside the stack of rune-etched quills, pulled out fresh parchment, and uncorked his bottle of enchanted ink. With a few crisp strokes, he began to write.
Dear Mum and Dad,
You'll both be pleased to know that your son is now, against all odds, gainfully employed. Dumbledore himself came to ask me—yes, personally—to return to Hogwarts. Apparently, they've decided to add Alchemy to the curriculum for the first time in decades, and he claims I'm the perfect man for the job.
Yes, Mum, that means a real classroom, real students, and a real salary. (Don't worry, I did negotiate. It's still miserably low, but I wrangled a promise of full autonomy. You'd be proud, Dad.)
Before you panic, no, I will not blow up the castle. Probably.
Love,Elias
He signed it with a flourish, sealed the parchment with a dab of wax, and whistled. His owl — a sleek barn owl named Tiberius, faithful since his third year — swooped down from the rafters.
"Take this to them, Tibs. Straight to Mum and Dad."
The owl nipped his finger affectionately before launching into the morning sky. Elias leaned back in his chair, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
******
In a tidy brick townhouse in the heart of Godric Hallow , Catherine Reed was already halfway through her morning toast when the owl tapped at the kitchen window. She unlatched it briskly, plucked the letter free, and gave Tiberius a polite nod before he departed.
"Letter from Elias," she called, unfolding the parchment.
Her husband, Gareth Reed, looked up from the Daily Prophet — healer's robes still creased from the night shift at St. Mungo's. "Good news?"
Catherine scanned quickly, then let out a low whistle. "Alchemy professor. At Hogwarts."
Gareth blinked. "Our Elias?
"The very same." Catherine folded the parchment, eyes softening despite her sharp tone. "I always told you he'd make something of that eccentric brain."
Gareth chuckled, sipping his tea. "St. Mungo's owes half its rune wards to his 'eccentric brain.' Honestly, I thought he'd end up running his own workshop, not teaching."
"Well, now he'll do both. He's not the sort to stop inventing." Catherine set the letter aside, eyes gleaming with pride. "Nicholas Flamel himself mentored him. Of course Dumbledore would want him back."
Gareth stretched, wincing at a stiff shoulder. "Merlin help those students. They're about to learn that Alchemy is more than fairy tales and gold."
Catherine smirked. "Let's just hope he doesn't install a something weird in the dungeons."
******
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters
King's Cross Station bustled with its usual chaos — Muggle commuters rushing with briefcases, oblivious to the cluster of witches and wizards slipping discreetly between platforms. The enchanted barrier shimmered faintly between nine and ten, unnoticed by anyone who didn't know better.
Arthur Weasley fussed at the edge of the barrier, adjusting Ginny's hair ribbon while she squirmed.
"Now, Ginny, next year it'll be your turn. Don't pout."
"I'm not pouting," Ginny huffed, very much pouting.
Beside them, Harry Potter shifted awkwardly, pushing his trolley with Hedwig's cage rattling on top. He'd just met Ron Weasley properly, and the two boys were already deep in conversation about Quidditch and sandwiches.
"Come on, you lot," Molly Weasley called, waving her brood forward. "The train won't wait forever."
Fred and George, of course, lingered behind, whispering to each other with matching wicked grins.
"Oi, Harry!" Fred called suddenly. "Bet you didn't know Hogwarts is adding a new course this year."
Harry blinked. "A new what?"
"New class," George said with a flourish. "Rumor is, Alchemy. Very mysterious. Nobody knows who's teaching it."
Ron's eyes widened. "Alchemy? Like turning lead into gold?"
"Or exploding cauldrons," Fred said cheerfully. "Depends who you ask."
Arthur chuckled, straightening his glasses. "There's truth to it, actually. Ministry's been talking — Dumbledore's introducing Alchemy back into the curriculum. First time in decades. Should be fascinating."
"Fascinating?" George echoed. "We call it 'potentially explosive.'"
Molly shot them a sharp look. "You two will behave on the train."
"Yes, Mum," they chorused, already slipping a Dungbomb into Ron's pocket.
Harry grinned despite himself. The idea of a brand-new class sounded exciting. He'd never heard of Alchemy before, studying Magic as a whole but if it was important enough for Dumbledore to add, it had to be interesting.
The whistle blew. Steam hissed around the scarlet train. Students scrambled aboard, trunks banging and owls hooting.
The Hogwarts Express rumbled to life, carrying with it whispers of Quidditch, feasts, and, now, a mysterious new subject that none of them could yet imagine.
And somewhere far away, Elias adjusted his backpack, preparing to step back into the castle that had shaped him — ready to bring memes, Wi-Fi, and a little chaos to the hallowed halls of Hogwarts.
******
Elias rose from his desk and clapped his hands once. "Right. Time to pack."
Unlike most wizards, he didn't wrestle with old trunks or levitate piles of unwieldy boxes. He had something better: a modern black school backpack. From the outside, it looked perfectly ordinary — scuffed zippers, mesh side pocket, the sort of thing any Muggle teenager might sling over their shoulders. But inside…
Inside was an entire pocket-dimension workshop.
He flicked his wand, and the backpack opened with a soft whoosh, expanding slightly as the runes shimmered. A faint hum echoed from within, like a living heartbeat of magic.
"Inventory mode," Elias commanded.
The interior glowed, revealing neat floating shelves, rune-carved compartments, and a suspended hammock swaying lazily in a pocket corner. Tools gleamed in their racks. Books stacked themselves alphabetically. A rune-powered lamp flickered on like a lightbulb.
"All right," Elias muttered. "Broomstick, inside."
His broom zipped into the bag like a pet homing to its kennel. The enchanted mirror waddled grudgingly but obeyed. The rune-deck of playing cards tried to scatter across the room until Elias caught them with a lazy flick of his wand.
The kettle leapt inside eagerly. "Glory awaits!"
"You sound like a second-year writing a dueling club poster," Elias said dryly, zipping the bag closed.
From the outside, it looked like he was carrying nothing more than a few textbooks and a lunchbox. From the inside… well, it was practically a portable laboratory. Exactly the sort of blend of wizardry and practicality Elias lived for.
He slung it over his shoulder, gave his cottage one last look, and whispered to the wards, "Behave while I'm gone."
The walls creaked in mild protest.