DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights to Ilvermorny, neither to the wizarding world in and off itself.
Ilvermorny school and the Wizarding World belongs to J.K. Rowling.

The characters, however, are my creations. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: A New Headmaster

The office was buzzing with the sound of multiple conversations. Tonight was a night like no other for the Ilvermony staff, and the tension in the air was almost palpable. Every wizard in the country was waiting for this fateful night in the story of the magical school, and it was almost unbearable. Every candidate was smiling wryly to the others, yet the looks they exchanged where those of birds of prey stalking their latest meal. Those who weren't candidates simply watched the centre table. The anticipation was high as to whom would get the coveted position. They knew every candidate was a worthy one, that they proved themselves during their time at the school. Yet, uncertainty was pervading the air. Everyone was eavesdropping every single word, trying to make sense of the minute conversations that echoed through the hall while they waited for the former headmaster to come in the room. They would then proceed to vote for the one who would take the position, and the one who would represent Ilvermorny School all around the world. He would need many qualities to be able to do the job, but also a lot of ambitions to make the school a better place. Looking at the candidates right now, many would have felt like they were about to be eaten...

Among the centre table stood the most important people in the room, the Ilvermorny Professors contending for the position of Headmaster. One of them, a weary old geezer with pearly white hair and beard, had that boisterous and gentle look about him, but his eyes told a different story. He was sending a clear message: he would have the position, whether the Council liked it or not. As for his neighbour, a fairly young witch with platinum blonde hair tied in a small bun, had a nervous air about her. She was scared out of her spirits. The others were all the same: fairly aged and experienced. They seemed like they were all about to jump to the others' throat...

All, except one young wizard, wearing a bright red cloak with golden trim. His grey eyes looked at the others through his black bordered spectacles. His strong hand twitched, and he instinctively went to stroke his raven locks, probably out of a twinge of nervousness that he didn't want to show. The look he gave his fellow candidates was not akin to a murderous predator; instead, it looked like he analyzed their very movements with extreme accuracy. He was focused, accurate and precise, like a chess player in front of his board, looking for the right time to send in the pawns to strike right at the heart of the enemy line. Strategy and efficiency... his look seemed to give this vibe to everyone who looked at him. Every one stared, perplexed, at the young man. One small witch, a woman with silver hair wearing a grey cloak (probably white once, judging by the looks of it) whispered nervously to her neighbour :

"Have you seen him? So young, yet still trying out for the position. He has a lot of courage."

"Or maybe he's foolish enough to think he will have it," replied the black haired man beside her. His eyes were strict, and the look on his face was one of scepticism and utmost severity. "He's still contending against the greatest of the Ilvermorny alumni. He doesn't stand a chance against Wilhelm. I'm surprised he didn't forfeit when he knew he was standing against him."

"Oh, nonsense," said the witch, a bit annoyed. "He has shown his worth last year. He was the youngest teacher in years to obtain the post of Head of Webwyck House. I wonder why he wouldn't get it."

"That's the point: he is far too young. He believes he can get it even though he is almost 20 years younger than most of the other candidates. Even the second youngest, Irina, has more standing than him in the school, even though she came five years before."

"We will just have to see... Yet he was watched closely, and was even mentored by Professor Greenwood, no?

"That much is true. Yet, being mentored by him doesn't really change anything. He was here by only five years, it's still too soon to be Headmaster. Besides, he is only 35."

"Youth doesn't change anything. Stop using that as a crutch, Wyatt!"

Wyatt simply smiled dryly, as if that was sufficient answer, and then stayed silent, leaving the sounds of myriads of conversations to fill up the room once again. He wasn't wrong, per say. His wise (yet incredibly dry) outlook on the situation was enough for him to properly analyze the situation. He worked a lot on instinct.

Suddenly, the door opened in a very ominous sound, and silence suddenly befell the room, as a very old man entered. He looked at the table with his clear blue eyes (almost white, since blindness was slowly taking a toll on him) and a small wrinkled smile behind his long white beard started to stretch. He walked to the great chair, and it looked like his burgundy cloak was eerily floating behind him, like huge bat wings facing down. His matching hat (probably hiding a balding head, indicated by the total absence of any hair that protruded from it) was almost tingling as he shook his head with every step. He was trying to maintain his balance with a weathered old cane while he made his way to the great chair.

As soon as he entered the room, everyone stood up like they all received an extremely intense electrical shock. The potential candidates looked like they just witnessed their doom enter the room ominously. As for the bespectacled young man, though, his youthful face hadn't moved an inch, and he kept looking at the Headmaster with his analytical look always focused. He seemed strange when you looked at him in a certain way, always fixing a set point in the background. Anyone would have seemed strange in these conditions, and yet he seemed to be in his element. Not a hint of nervousness, except for the occasional twitching hand around his locks of hair, but even so, he seemed to be able to contain his emotions quite easily. Still, the gleam in his eyes changed to a look of quiet ambition and anticipation. Just like everyone else, he wanted to know the results of the isolation. He knew he may have no chance, and yet, he felt strangely confident. You could see it in his cold eyes.

Many other wizards were waiting for the official announcement. Some were shivering with anticipation, looking intently at the old man when he sat at his immense chair. He looked at everyone across the room, and raised a shrivelled hand. Everybody sat down, except for a tall and strange-looking middle-aged man in the centre table. When he looked around him, his face flashed a bright shade of scarlet before he sat down, rather ashamed.

Professor Greenwood opened his wrinkled mouth, not letting a word escape, coughing a little. Another man rose slightly from his seat, concerned, but a flicker of the hand of the Headmaster and he sat down just as quickly as he stood.

"Dear Professors," said the old man, "today you are all assembled here to witness who will be the one to succeed to the position of Headmaster. Everyone present here submitted their candidacy and all of them have extremely good reasons and shining ambitions. They all have something to help our school shine brightly amongst the greatest of the Wizarding World, and surely they have the possibility to make us one of the proudest of them all. However, only one may be chosen today. I have made my decisions after a week of deliberation. The five Wizards in front of me, all Heads of Houses, have amazing aptitudes in magical studies. Being myself Head of the Herstag House, I have seen many years in office, and I have seen many different Heads of Houses stand before me with great ideals, and..."

He stopped for a moment, looking a little weak. The same man darted up, his dark green cloak making a swishing sound like wind caught in a swinging bat, and yet the old Headmaster rose his crackled hand and he sat down again, like this order was simple and clean to him. Professor Greenwood was feeling weak since a long time, probably a couple of months... And yet, he tried to hold on at least until the very end of the school year to retire with grace. Of course, he maybe shouldn't have, since his state worsened by the day, but he had to do it, for the school, for the students, and mostly for his own self-satisfaction. He was always true to the mantle of his House: Always stand proud. Even though he mentored one from another House, he still did so proudly, without a hint of remorse. He knew he would make him proud.

"This year, as you all know, I have announced my retirement. After all my years of service, I believe the time has come to pass the torch to someone else. To all of the candidates before me, let me tell you that you really show a lot of promise, and that each of your Houses can be proud of what you will accomplish even if you are not selected. My choice has already been made, and I believe you will all agree with my decision."

He stood up, gripping his cane with his weak hand and rising up. Everyone gasped silently, and the dark green cloaked man rose up again, this time a little more calmly, yet still looking concerned. His eyes (coloured in an unusual red hue) was looking intently at the old man, being ready to jump at the Headmaster's side at any sign of weakness. However, he seemed to be alright, and his look of stern readiness calmed down. He simply started to listen, trying to catch what he was about to say. He knew that the old man was about to tell his decision to the Council of Professors. He didn't know the answer, yet right now, his concerned look became wrought with anticipation. The five teachers at the centre table rose up, ready to hear his decision. They all represented proudly their Houses, ready to hear the decision.

Suddenly, something caught his eyes. He turned his red gaze to the bespectacled man, who was slightly smiling, almost confidently. He looked at him perplexedly, waiting for him to make a move. Instead, he just stayed there, smiling proudly, almost with a glint of arrogance. The twitching of his hands was almost completely gone by that point, as if he knew already the outcome of this evening.

The old man spoke up.

"The new Headmaster is Professor Aramis Ashfield, Head of House Webwyck."

A deafening silence fell upon the hall. The young man in the red cloak continued to smile confidently and advanced.

The moment he moved, everyone in the hall started applauding, some in bewilderment, others in disbelief, and the rest with roaring enthusiasm. The small witch clothed in grey (or white, it all depends on your point of view) leaned on the shoulder of his neighbour (whose name seemed to be Wyatt) and said cheerfully:

"You see? I told you!"

The youngest of the candidates simply came near the great chair and shook carefully the hand of the old Headmaster, smiling gleefully. He looked at the crowd and raised a confident hand. Another round of applause came roaring from the Council as he took his place on the podium near the great chair, ready to make a speech of acceptance. His hand twitched again, in a last move of nervousness, and he addressed everyone with a great smile.

"To all my fellow candidates, you did well. To all my fellow Professors, thank you for this honour you give me. Together, we are going to make Ilvermorny, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry of America, one of the greatest wizarding schools there is."

And here, the first chapter ends!

With the new Headmaster of Ilvermorny, things will really start kicking in.
Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review, and if you're interested to know more, like and follow the story!
New chapter as quickly as I can!
Cheers!