Originally Posted by Wilber Winterbottom

His gaze dipped to the handkerchief, and a soft, grateful sigh escaped him. “Ah—my dear, a true lifesaver,” he murmured, accepting it with gentle care. He dabbed at his cheek and fingers. “The kitchens do have a flair for encores,” he added lightly, a glimmer of amusement returning to his eyes. With that, he gave a small, habitual wiggle as he rose from his seat before offering her a warm nod. “I’m very glad you’re here to enjoy it.”

And with that, moved to stand behind the podium at last, hands folded neatly before him as he took a moment to simply breathe in the beginning of term.

His gaze wandered over across the Great Hall with all its expectant faces. Bright-eyed first years craning to see everything at once, returning students slouched in varying degrees of enthusiasm, and the steadfast faculty behind him. For a moment, he simply took it in, as though framing a mental photograph of this single breath of time — click. The candles overhead flickered gently in their endless hover, and the hall hummed with that particular living expectancy that only Hogwarts ever seemed to manage.

Wilber rolled his shoulders once before raising both arms, the cheer of the Great Hall dissolving into a hushed murmur before quieting entirely.

“My dear, dear students… and my ever patient colleagues,” he began, voice warm and carrying, “welcome back to Hogwarts.” A small smile crept in at the corners of his mouth; despite seeing this moment numerous times now, he still found something new to enjoy each time. “Another year,” he continued, “another opportunity to learn something new, to make something meaningful… and, if we are particularly fortunate, to avoid setting anything on fire that was not intended to be on fire.”

A few ripples of laughter moved through the hall, nervous or otherwise, and Wilber’s eyes twinkled as if he had been personally pleased by each one.

“It is my great pleasure to begin by thanking former professors, Jasmine Springer, Marcus Cole, and Aurora Stone, whose guidance and dedication have left an enduring imprint on the evolving direction of our esteemed subjects. With that said, we have several new members to our faculty,” he went on, turning slightly so his hand could gesture towards his colleagues behind him with theatrical grace. “Each of whom brings with them not only considerable expertise, but a commendable willingness to join us in the beautifully unpredictable rhythm of life at Hogwarts.”

His gaze lingered there fondly, as though introducing them to an extended family rather than a professional appointment.

“Professor Lillian Hawkins joins us as your new Herbology professor,” he introduced, nodding gently in her direction. “I trust you will find her lessons both… grounding and, I suspect, occasionally sprouting with surprises.” Another brief, respectful nod followed. “Professor Elara Voss will be guiding you through the intricacies of Transfiguration, a discipline that reminds us, perhaps more than any other, that change is not only possible, but essential.” A small, knowing lift of his brows accompanied the faintest smile. “And overseeing your flights, we welcome Edgar Cloggs, who will serve as both Flying Instructor and Quidditch official this term,” the Headmaster continued, turning slightly to gesture down the table with an open palm. “A role, I am told, he has taken to with admirable spirit, if early reports from the pitch are to be believed.”

A soft ripple of amusement touched his expression before he drew his hands back in, fingertips brushing together as though collecting his thoughts for the next turn.

“And with the turning of the term comes a few further adjustments,” he continued, his tone smoothing into something formal once more. “Professor Amstern has very kindly agreed to add Librarian to her already considerable list of talents, and Professor Cox steps into the role of Ravenclaw Head of House, where his clarity of thought will no doubt serve the house splendidly.”

He paused just long enough to allow the applause to bloom and fade, his hands resting lightly on either side of the podium, and simply enjoyed the sound for a couple more moments.

“Now,” he said, voice lowering just slightly in tone rather than volume, “in addition to your usual studies, I am pleased to share that Professor Berry has been quietly preparing something rather special for both students and staff this term.” A faint and almost playful pause followed. “I am told it will invite us to capture not just images… but moments.”

His fingers flexed gently against the wood of the podium, soothing a persistent ache along his knuckles.

“And, should whispers prove true—and they often do, though I advise taking them with a pinch of skepticism—we may even find ourselves visited, toward the end of term, by a professional whose expertise may help bring this particular endeavor to a most memorable conclusion.”

He paused there, fingers smoothing idly along the edge of the podium as though polishing the thought ― and that one random smudge ― before casting a warm look across the Great Hall.

“In that same spirit of reflection—and perhaps a touch of legacy—I am delighted to introduce the Hogwarts Time Capsule.”

With a gentle flourish of his hands, a subtle enchantment seemed to respond: faint golden outlines appearing in the air behind him for just a moment, like a memory just on the cusp of becoming something real and solid—until, at last, it did. A capsule took shape, its surface a smooth metallic frame bearing the Hogwarts crest and with fastening points alternating between shimmering ruby, glistening gold, burnished sapphire, and lustrous emerald.

“Throughout the term, you will find designated submission points not only within the castle, but also in Hogsmeade,” he continued, his tone softening into something deeply sentimental, “so that those who have walked these halls before you may add their voices alongside yours.” His eyes swept across the students again, slower now, more thoughtful. Recalling how he had sat along these very same benches once upon a time. “Letters, sketches, photographs, small tokens—pieces of yourselves, preserved for a future generation of students who will one day sit where you now sit and wonder who came before them.”

A gentle breath escaped him, almost like a quiet laugh.

“It is, I think, a rather lovely reminder… that while our time here may be fleeting, what we leave behind need not be.” His eyes twinkling, reflecting the stars of the enchanted ceiling above. “So,” he said, brightening once more, “as we begin this new term, I encourage you to be curious. Be kind. Be just a little bit brave—especially in the quieter moments where it matters most.” A faint glimmer of mischief returned to his eyes. “And, as much as possible… do try to keep the castle in one piece. It has only just forgiven us for the last time.”

A final sweep of his gaze moved slowly across the students, over bright eyes, nervous fidgets, easy laughter, and the familiar faces that had grown just a little older since last term, committing each of them to memory as best he could.

“Welcome home, my dears,” he concluded. “Let the feast begin!”

He brought his hands together in a single, cheerful clap, and the tables sprang to life in a flourish of color, warmth, and wonderfully well-behaved food.