"I don't know what to name this."
The feast had barely ended when a loud CRACK echoed through the Great Hall—startling a few first-years into dropping their pudding spoons.
Professor McGonagall stood at the front, glasses perched low, arms full of scrolls. Behind her were other professors, house elves, and—oh no—older students with clipboards and manic energy.
“First years,” she said crisply, “stay seated. Your class schedules and club information will now be distributed. Do not lose them.”
Professor Sprout waved from the Hufflepuff table with a kind smile, handing a stack of parchment to a bouncy fifth year in yellow.
Slughorn gave out potions class invites like they were golden tickets, already slipping some to Lucius and Mei with a wink.
“You better come to my Slug Club, Miss Evans,” he added as he walked by. Lily blinked.
“I literally just got sorted like twenty minutes ago—”
“And already breaking records,” he said cheerfully.
At the Gryffindor Table...
James unfolded his schedule dramatically. “Defense first thing in the morning? On a Monday?”
Marlene giggled. “Well at least we get Transfiguration after. McGonagall likes me.”
“Yeah because you talk in your sleep about turning people into frogs.”
Lily was too busy flipping through every page of the flyers. “What is a Fanged Frisbee Club?”
“Illegal,” Remus mumbled from behind his new planner. “And probably run by Sirius.”
“Probably?” Sirius said with a grin. “I made it.”
At the Slytherin Table...
Dorcas snatched her scroll like she was ready to fight someone with it.
“Why do I have Arithmancy and Flying on Wednesdays? That’s illegal.”
“It’s Hogwarts,” Severus mumbled. “Everything here is illegal.”
Lucius ignored his schedule altogether, instead flipping through a small black envelope with gold trim: Prefect invitations only.
“Honestly,” Narcissa drawled, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder as she opened her club scroll, “if I have to sit through one more Wizard Chess Strategy Group invite, I might hex someone.”
“You’re not even a first year,” Dorcas reminded her.
“And yet I still suffer.”
In the Mix of It All...
A floating parchment slapped Remus in the face.
“JOIN THE CREATURE CARE COLLECTIVE – Free Dragon Snacks!”
James gasped. “You think there’s baby dragons?”
“I think there’s baby dragon poop,” Remus replied.
Another flyer read:
“DUELING CLUB: Show your wand skills (no experience needed, but injuries likely!)”
“Oh that one’s for me,” Lily said, already scribbling her name on it.
“I will challenge Lucius.”
“Again, we’ve been here twenty minutes,” said Sirius.
Xenophilius Lovegood, still clutching his scarf like it was a comfort pet, wandered down the table.
“Did you know that Nargles run the Owl Post?”
“No,” said everyone.
“Yes,” said Lily, somehow.
Meanwhile, the Professors…
Professor Flitwick was levitating scrolls to students like some kind of confetti wizard.
Hooch was already yelling across the room about “broom safety” and “if you fall, you fall with honor!”
Dumbledore? Sipping tea, chuckling softly, letting the chaos unfold.
By the time they were dismissed to their dorms, the air was thick with club gossip.
“Did you hear about the Ghost Appreciation Society?”
“There's a club where you pretend to be a frog.”
“I signed up for five clubs just to get free snacks.”
“Are we even going to survive Monday?”
And in the back corner, Lily and Severus sat cross-legged, comparing schedules under the flickering torchlight.
James stared too long.
Lucius stared too hard.
Dorcas stole three flyers and one cinnamon roll.
Xeno tried to adopt a napkin.
And Hogwarts?
Hogwarts was just getting started.