The Great Hall buzzed with excitement as the feast came to an end. The Prefects stood up and gathered the students, guiding them towards their respective common rooms.
"First-years, follow me!" called out Percy Weasley, standing tall and proud as he led the Gryffindors through the castle. Harry walked alongside Hermione and Ron, eyes darting around in awe at the moving staircases, the living portraits whispering as they passed, and the flickering torches casting eerie yet warm shadows on the stone walls.
"This place is amazing," Harry thought, completely certain now—Hogwarts was a thousand times better than any Muggle school could ever be.
They eventually reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who asked for the password. Percy proudly announced, "Caput Draconis!" and the portrait swung open, revealing a cozy, red-and-gold common room filled with plush armchairs, crackling fireplaces, and a comforting warmth that made the exhaustion of the day settle in.
Harry was assigned a bed in the boys' dormitory, where he and Ron quickly changed into their pajamas. The moment his head hit the pillow, Harry drifted off into a deep, peaceful sleep, feeling for the first time in a long while that he was truly home.
Harry woke up early, feeling well-rested and energized. He quietly dressed and slipped out of the dormitory, heading outside for a run. The cool morning air was refreshing as he jogged around the grounds, taking in the breathtaking view of the Black Lake and the towering castle in the distance. This was a habit he'd picked up over the summer—keeping active helped clear his mind and kept him sharp.
By the time he returned, sweat glistening on his forehead, he bumped into Hermione just outside the common room entrance. She blinked at him in surprise before narrowing her eyes suspiciously.
"Where have you been?" she asked, hands on her hips.
Harry grinned, wiping his face with his sleeve. "Morning run. Keeps me fresh and ready for the day."
Hermione's eyes lit up with curiosity. "That actually makes a lot of sense... I should try it too. I'll join you tomorrow!"
Harry beamed at her. "Really? That'd be great! We can push each other to do better."
Hermione nodded determinedly. "Exactly! A proper exercise routine would be beneficial for both mind and body. Besides, we'll need stamina for all the walking around Hogwarts."
With that promise made, they headed to breakfast together, chatting excitedly about their first day of classes.
As they ate, they wondered where Ron was, but he showed up just as they were finishing. Unfortunately for him, they had to leave for their first class, waving at him as they went.
"See you in class, mate!" Harry called over his shoulder as he and Hermione walked towards Transfiguration.
Upon entering the classroom, they chose seats in the second row—not too close to the front, but not far enough to be inattentive. As they waited, Harry's sharp eyes landed on a small tabby cat sitting on the desk at the front. His mind immediately connected the dots.
He leaned toward Hermione. "Hey... you think that cat is Professor McGonagall?"
Hermione blinked, then turned to look at the feline. As she observed, the cat gave the smallest, almost imperceptible nod before resuming its quiet stare at the door.
Hermione gasped softly. "Harry... I think you might be right!"
Minerva, still in her Animagus form, internally smirked. Clever boy, she thought, impressed that he had caught on so quickly. Most first-years would never even suspect it.
The rest of the students eventually arrived, and Ron stumbled in late, panting. The moment he entered, the cat leaped from the desk and transformed midair into Professor McGonagall, causing the entire class to gasp.
"Mr. Weasley," she said coolly, "I do not tolerate tardiness. Five points from Gryffindor."
Ron groaned as he hurried to his seat. The lesson then began with an introduction to Transfiguration.
"Transfiguration is one of the most complex and dangerous branches of magic you will learn at Hogwarts," McGonagall announced. "It is not to be taken lightly. The slightest mistake could result in disaster."
She then demonstrated by turning a matchstick into a needle with a flick of her wand. The class was enthralled, and Harry was excited to try it for himself.
Potions Class:
Next was Potions. As the Gryffindors entered the dimly lit dungeon classroom, a cold, almost eerie atmosphere settled over them. Professor Snape stood at the front, his dark robes billowing slightly as he observed the students with an unreadable expression.
Then, in a low, smooth voice, he began, "There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to truly appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making..."
His words had an almost hypnotic effect, drawing the students in. However, Snape's expression darkened when his gaze landed on Harry.
"Tell me, Potter," he suddenly said, "what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Harry, who had actually been reading up on potions the night before, answered without hesitation. "It makes the Draught of Living Death, sir."
Snape's eyes flickered with something unreadable before he continued. "Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
"In a goat's stomach, sir."
A few students gawked at Harry in shock. Even Hermione was looking at him with admiration. Snape's lips twitched, as if fighting the urge to smirk, before asking the final question.
"What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
"They're the same plant, also known as aconite."
There was a brief silence. Then, Snape turned to the rest of the class, his voice carrying a sharp edge.
"Why aren't you all writing this down? This is crucial information!"
The students hurriedly scrambled for their quills and parchment. Snape, meanwhile, glanced at Harry, considering. For the first time, there was a flicker of acknowledgment—not as James Potter's son, but as a student with genuine intelligence.
It was a slow, almost imperceptible shift, but a shift nonetheless.
Herbology was fascinating, and Harry enjoyed the hands-on nature of the class. Charms was even better—he had already read ahead and performed the spells flawlessly, impressing Professor Flitwick.
Finally, Defense Against the Dark Arts arrived. Professor Quirrell stammered and stuttered his way through the lesson, but Harry couldn't shake the odd, uncomfortable feeling in his scar whenever he was near the man. It felt like something was off.
After class, Harry decided to speak to Dumbledore about it. The old Headmaster listened carefully, his blue eyes twinkling with wisdom.
"That is very interesting, Harry," Dumbledore mused. "But do not worry yourself too much. You are safe at Hogwarts. Enjoy your first year—it is a time for learning, for making friends, and for eating far too many sweets from the kitchens."
Harry, though not entirely convinced, nodded. If Dumbledore wasn't worried, maybe he shouldn't be either.
As he left the office, he pushed his concerns aside. Hogwarts was his home now. He was going to enjoy it, learn everything he could, and make the most of this incredible world of magic.
And tomorrow, he had a morning workout to look forward to—with Hermione.
A small grin spread across his face.
This was going to be a great year for sure.