Yarns sat at the leftmost chair of the long table, balancing on the hind two legs with his feet stretched out to the floor in front of him. He rocked on the chair slowly, surveying the arriving students with a calm but intense look.

Eyeing up along the staff table, he notices some faces vaguely familiar from his years at Hogwarts and many more completely unknown to him. He debates with himself whether he should start a conversation or not. Yarns starts a sentence, but transforms it into a sort of grunt-cough; for he realised he really had nothing to say.