The grand entrance of East Haven High was bustling with the usual morning chaos, but the headmaster's office was an oasis of calm. Headmaster Harold Whitmore, a distinguished man with silver hair and a stern yet kind demeanor, stood from his desk as a tall, lean figure entered the room.
"Ah, Mr. Nightingale," Headmaster Whitmore greeted warmly, extending a hand. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Your reputation precedes you."
Mr. Nightingale took the headmaster's hand in a firm shake, a small smile playing on his lips. "The pleasure is mine, Headmaster Whitmore. I appreciate the opportunity to work here at East Haven High."
"We're fortunate to have you," Whitmore replied, gesturing for Mr. Nightingale to take a seat. "Your methods are... unconventional, but the results speak for themselves. I have high hopes for the impact you'll have on our students."
Mr. Nightingale nodded graciously. "Thank you for your confidence. I assure you, my methods are designed to encourage growth and responsibility. Now, if you could show me to my office, I'd like to get started as soon as possible."
Headmaster Whitmore stood and led Mr. Nightingale down a long hallway, past classrooms filled with chattering students. They finally reached a small, unassuming room at the end of the hall. The headmaster opened the door, revealing a simple desk, a few chairs, and a large window that let in ample natural light.
"This will be your office," Whitmore said. "I trust you'll find it suitable for your needs."
Mr. Nightingale stepped inside, surveying the room with a critical eye. "It's perfect, thank you."
The headmaster nodded. "I'll leave you to settle in. Your first detention session is scheduled for this afternoon. Good luck, Mr. Nightingale."
With that, Headmaster Whitmore left, closing the door softly behind him. Mr. Nightingale set his worn leather satchel on the desk and began to unpack. He placed a few old, leather-bound books on the desk, their spines worn from years of use. Next, he carefully set down a single black candle, its wax smooth and unblemished.
He took a deep breath, his eyes closed briefly as if centering himself. Then, with a swift, elegant motion, he snapped his fingers. The wick of the black candle ignited, casting a flickering, otherworldly glow around the room. The air seemed to shimmer slightly, as if charged with an unseen energy.
Mr. Nightingale sat down at the desk, his posture straight and confident. He opened one of the books, flipping through pages filled with intricate diagrams and arcane symbols. A small, enigmatic smile played on his lips as he prepared for the career ahead.