This would be Professor Jordan's fifth trip from his flat in Paddington to Hogwarts. All his school supplies were there, books, parchments, quills and clothing. He'd stocked the school's theatrical closet with costumes for this year's production of<span style="font-style: italic">Romeo &amp; Juliet</span>. A few of his previous trips were spent dreaming about the play. He wondered who would be at school this year that would make a wonderful Juliet. There were several candidates he had in mind, but was not sure if they would be interested. He played with asking this Slytherin or that Slytherin. There were also a few Hufflepuffs or Gryffendors, but he had his mind set on a Slytherin. In any case he was entirely thrilled to be putting on the play this year.<br/><br/>After an early morning run with<span style="font-style: italic">Bonnie Prince Charlie</span>, his Irish Wolfhound, Professor Jordan  finished putting a bag together with a few final necessities. He charmed the bag into the size of a deck of playing cards and dropped it into his coat pocket.<br/><br/>For this trip to Hogwarts, his final trip before the start of class next week, he wore a grey tweed suit, with bright red silk necktie. A similar colored red handkerchief rested inside the left breast pocket of his jacket, the points sticking up as though representing a fire like appearance. His spit shined black wing tipped leather oxfords glistened off the morning sunlight as he made his way to Kings Cross station.<br/><br/>Professor Jordan hailed a taxicab and rode just under three miles to Kings Cross. The Taxi driver did not appear to have a problem with the oversized dog riding in the back of his car. If he had a problem, Professor Jordan was prepared to remove the problem from the man, if necessary. With windswept hair, his appearance was otherwise fastidious. He always took pride in his appearance. The cab driver stopped in front of the station. Tyre handed the man, who appeared to be of Middle Eastern descent some muggle money to pay for the transport.<br/><br/>Professor Tyresius Jordan casually made his way to the portal between platforms nine and ten at Kings Cross. Without so much as a second thought, he just as casually strolled through the brick wall and exited in front of platform nine and three quarters. He stumbled on what was apparently a woman's ankle up exiting the portal. Instinctively, he wanted to berrate the clumsy oaf who had not the decency to step away from the portal  upon arriving on the far side, but held his tongue when he assessed the situation.<br/><br/>Apparently Leandra Umbrax, a new faculty member and former student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was sprawled out on the pavement, her trolley had tipped over sideways and her luggage cast asunder. Realizing the young woman was obviously nervous about her first day at the school as a professor, she allowed her emotions to get the better of her. Professor Jordan attempted to force a smile, but ended up presenting something other than a pleasant appearance. It was difficult for him to conceal his contempt for the Ravenclaw. Afterall, the entire house was constantly under his scrutinizing eye.<br/><br/>"Ms Umbrax," Professor Jordan spoke in a calm manner while looking down his nose at the young woman sprawled across the floor. "Do you require assistance?" Professor Jordan extended a hand to help her to her feet. He slowly retrieved her items as if the act of assisting the young woman was a burdensome affair. His face remained placid as he assisted the young professor. Her specialty, Care of Magical Creatures was one of those subjects, Professor Jordan placed a low priority on. Once the young woman had retrieved her baggage, Professor Jordan issued a departure greeting, "Good day, Madame," He proceeded to step onto the Hogwarts Express and search for a seat toward the front of the train.<br/><br/>As professor Jordan took his seat on the train, he retrieved a copy of<span style="font-style: italic">The Daily Prophet</span>. As he unfolded the wizarding world's daily periodical, he muttered, "<span style="font-style: italic">If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep, my dreams presage some joyful news at hand: My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne; and all this day an unaccustom'd spirit lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.</span>" [Scene 1, Act V, Romeo & Juliet]<br/><br/>...and then he read.