Professor Oisín Canavan

Professor Oisín Canavan stood rigidly amidst the hubbub of the charity car wash as he surveyed the scene with thinly veiled disapproval. The din of students from both universities laughing and shouting across the Veilbury Creature Center parking lot was grating on his nerves. He adjusted his jacket, feeling distinctly out of place among the casual attire of students in t-shirts, vests, and shorts. He hadn't wanted to attend this event, but his sense of duty prevailed—someone needed to ensure ELU maintained its dignity. He noted with disapproval how some students had turned the simple task of washing cars into unnecessarily provocative displays. The rivalry between schools was tolerable in academic settings, but this—this bordered on the boorish behavior he so despised. Then he noticed a familiar figure sauntering toward a black sedan. Dirk Fletcher—that troublesome transfer student—was making a spectacle of himself again, bending lewdly over a car bonnet while eyeing up anyone who so much as breathed near him. Oisín felt heat rising to his face, indignation and disapproval. He took two determined strides towards him when suddenly the air filled with shouts. Before he could process what was happening, a wall of water struck him from the side, drenching his suit entirely. He stood frozen in shock, water dripping from his neat white hair down his glasses. "Water fight!" someone yelled, and chaos erupted as students abandoned their cleaning in favor of impromptu water warfare. Oisín opened his mouth to deliver a scathing rebuke when Fletcher's voice cut through the commotion. "Someone get the Professor into some trunks! Can't have him washing cars in wet tweed!" The lecherous grin on the transfer student's face made Oisín's blood boil. Before he could reply, he felt a strange tingling envelop him. Looking down in shock, he watched his drenched suit disappear, replaced by white boardshorts that exposed far more of his legs than he had shown in public in decades. A yellow sponge materialized in his hand as if mocking his predicament. "What in the—" Oisín sputtered, turning to see a smirking MAA student lowering her hands, magic still shimmering around her fingertips. The students around him erupted in cheers, clearly delighted by his transformation. For a man who had maintained a professional barrier through impeccable attire and a rigid attitude for decades, he was livid. As he prepared to march away and find proper clothing, he found himself crowded by eager students from both universities, their faces alight with unexpected unity in their delight at seeing the strict professor join their ranks. "Professor Canavan, you have to stay now!" "Just one car, sir!" "It's for charity!" Their enthusiasm was relentless, and despite himself, Oisín felt his rigid principles wavering. With a rough sigh, he clutched the sponge tighter and moved toward the nearest unwashed car, muttering about impropriety and magical misconduct under his breath.