The teachers of Hogwarts had been around long enough to watch hundreds of students pass through the doors of their great school.
They would watch generation after generation of children grow up, obtain jobs, have children of their own, and then eventually those children would pass through their doors and the cycle would restart once more.
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In the early 1900s, before the school year began, all of the teachers would gather in the staff room and hazard guesses to how their past students' children would look, act, learn, and use their magic. For the most part it was all great fun. They would reminisce on the past and grow excited for the future.
However, two to three weeks after the school year kicked off is when the fun really began. Bets get collected and the teachers can finally start gossiping about how Malfoys son little has his fathers blond hair. Blacks son definitely had the same affinity for transfiguration as she did. The Potters son, Fleamont, might have worse vision than his father, not that any of them thought that could have been possible, but yet here they were…
The years passed and it became clear that this was certainly a tradition that could never be stopped.
Until it could be.
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The first war came and went, Grindelwald was defeated. Then the second wizarding war came and went, Voldemort was defeated.
So things went back to normal… Sorta.
Just a couple years later teachers, both new and old, would sit around a table and their hands would be gripped tightly around warm mugs of tea and their laughter and small talk would be replaced by a thick silence.
Why?
Ollie Larsons son Luke Larson was well mannered and serious. He got into Ravenclaw and spent most of his time studying or reading.
He was a nice boy.
None of the teachers could complain.
But when Mcgongall looked at the sandy blond hair and Flitwick looked at the pale blue eyes and Sprout heard his cackling laugh and Madame Pomfrey looked at his gangly limbs, they all expected a loud and boisterous child that cared about his grades but would never say no to a pick up game of quidditch.
It wasn’t just Luke.
Annie Lee. Maria Santana. Katie Raye. All children that looked like spitting images of their parents, but would never share their personality.
It took another week before Professor Snape would verbalize what nobody else dared to.
Their parents are dead.
They don’t act like them, because they never knew them.
And so the tradition changed.
They would gather two weeks before and cast bets like always, but three weeks into term they would sit down and reminisce on the parents they once knew and the students that would never be what they expected.
Tears were often shed.
Names that were once written across essays were now etched into grave stones. Wands once bursting with magic were laid to rest with their owners.
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In the summer of 1992 the teacher once again gathered in the staff room and began their bets. It was a subdued affair.
Draco Malfoy would have his fathers hair.
So would Ron Weasley.
Luna Lovegood would be as open minded and as kind hearted as her mother and father.
Theodore Nott would be the opposite. He would be as vindictive and violent as his father.
Pansy Párkinson might be as obsessed with fashion as her mother had been.
Though, they never touched upon the subject of Harry Potter. In their heads they already knew what to expect.
A black haired, green eyed boy, with no personality traits handed down from his parents.
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September 1st rolled around and for the first time the teachers sitting at the high table would lay eyes on a boy that looked like his parents and acted like them too.
In fact, if you looked close enough. Harry James Potter didn’t stop at his parents. He inherited the traits and quirks of his parents' friends as well…
Why?
Well if Harry Potter was anything, he was an enigma.
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For the first time in more years than anybody could count, they were actually excited for the second meeting to occur. Professors bustled into the staff room and the moment the door closed the room burst into a cacophony of voices.
“He has his fathers sarcasm!”
“I swear to you that he was singing Starman under his breath”
“Did you see what he was eating at breakfast? I’m almost certain that the Remus boy used to eat that too.”
“He’s got his mothers heart that’s for sure! He spent twenty minutes teaching Neville some of the spells I taught in charms.”
“He was wearing doc martens and a little leather jacket last sunday.”
“Well just yesterday he was wearing the most darling sweater. If I didn’t know better I would have actually thought it was Lupins!”
“Oh! Flitwick watch out! I saw him practicing in the library and he is just like his mother in charms as well. Absolutely amazing!”
“His hair! Merlin and Morgana! It’s James practically reincarnated.”
“Quite boy, but I could have sworn he was the one to prank Albus with the Weasley twins last week.”
“Have you seen him excited or angry? Cause I could have sworn his hair took on a tinge of red.”
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Eventually all of the teachers fell silent and sipped their drinks with fond smiles on their faces. It wasn’t every day that they got to remember so many of their past students.
The years would pass and the teachers would watch in admiration as the small boy with the lightning scar would grow. He never stopped displaying attributes of those that had long since departed and those that he had never gotten the chance to meet, but he also began showing his own characteristics and quirks.
Every other day he would cut himself a hearty slice of treacle tart.
He would always crack his neck, first to the right and then to the left, before trying a new spell.
He could always be found biting his nails in stressful situations.
Curry and Naan bread could usually always be found in close vicinity to his plate during dinners.
He would always rub his finger across his lily flower necklace before pushing off at the beginning of a quidditch match.
The teachers could go on and on.
He was his parents, but he was also so much more.
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Seven years after Harry Potter graced the front doors of Hogwarts and James, Lily, Remus, Sirius, and yes, even Peter had regraced them….Voldemart was taken down yet again.
The young boy that they met all those years ago was gone and was replaced by someone similar and yet someone so so different. It didn’t matter though, because Harry Potter would never truly change. At his core he was a boy with a big personality and an even bigger heart. He was kind and funny and no matter what, that would not change.
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A couple years later, Harry Potter would walk back into Hogwarts and instead of walking towards the front hall to have a hat placed on his head. He very carefully made his way into the teachers staff room.
Professors from every subject looked at each other with smiles and knowing eyes. After being the subject of conversation for so long, Harry Potter would finally be joining said conversation.
After all, it was a tradition.