From the Ashes

The students will be arriving tomorrow night via Hogwarts Express for those in the country and via Portkey for those coming from abroad. As usual, we’ll need professors to greet the train, separate the students into groups and escort them to the feast.

Sixth- and seventh-years have almost all been here before; they’ll take the Thestral-drawn carriages to the castle. Carriages will need to be arranged; please speak to Professor Walker if you need assistance or more horsepower, as it were. Some of the unicorns may be willing to pitch in. For obvious reasons, certain professors are more suited to minding the Thestrals than others, so I trust you’ll sort yourselves out.

First- through fifth-years will, as is tradition, take the boats across the lake for their first view of Hogwarts. We will have an extreme shortage of boats, clearly, so if you can charm something into floating safely, please do it. School brooms might do as well, if the students are experienced in riding and keep low to the water with the rest of the group.

The students arriving via Portkey have all been sent owls with their enchanted item and should arrive in the courtyard at the same time the Hogwarts Express arrives. There is a list of names available to ensure no late student is accidentally left unattended; whichever staff members take on this duty can retrieve it from my office during the day tomorrow.

During the feast, we’ll need someone attending the Sorting Hat, and Heads of Houses should be available to greet their new classes and escort them back to their dormitories at the end of the evening. If you have any questions or concerns, please stop by to discuss them with me before the Sorting Feast.

Best of luck for the start of classes and the coming school year. I have the utmost faith in each of you.

Sincerely,
Headmaster Schechter

Who: Pete and William
Where: The staff lounge
When: Late afternoon tea
What: Magical Three-Dimensional Enhanced Scrabble

William pushed back the sleeves of his robe and whisked his wand upward, stacking the cubes from his tray into a neat row in the air. They bookended the existing word 'limp' (both he and Pete had shared knowing smirks and amused coughs when that one went on the board) and locked into place, sending a shower of tiny gold coins into William's leprechaun pot. His total glowed on the outside in milky silver Roman numerals.

"Palimpsest," he announced. "Eighteen points." Not terrible, but he wished he'd been able to hit the double letter score on something worth more than one point. Pete was a genius at claiming the double and triple spaces. William tended to go for interesting words over more high-scoring choices, which was detrimental in a game that relied more upon numbers for success. So far, though, he was holding up well.