Harry potter and the stone

The first-years trailed after Percy Weasley, the Gryffindor prefect, through the vast, echoing corridors of Hogwarts. Harry stayed near the middle of the group, his eyes darting to every flickering torch and moving shadow. The castle felt alive in a way that unsettled him—like it was watching, waiting.

"Keep up, everyone!" Percy called over his shoulder, his tone brisk but not unkind. "The stairs can be tricky, so don't dawdle."

Harry glanced at Hermione, who was walking beside him with her nose practically buried in a small book she'd pulled from her bag. Ron trailed behind, yawning loudly and muttering about how long the day had been.

The journey quickly became a labyrinth of moving staircases, twisting corridors, and narrow passageways that seemed far too small for the number of students trying to squeeze through. Portraits along the walls whispered and muttered as they passed.

"Look at the new ones," a haughty woman in a ruffled dress commented to a knight in shining armor.

"Fresh meat," the knight replied with a chuckle, his visor clanking as he nodded.

Harry shivered. It wasn't just the portraits that unnerved him—it was the strange, ancient magic that seemed to hum in the stones themselves. Every now and then, he felt a faint, cold pulse, like the castle was exhaling.

When they reached a wide stone staircase, Percy paused. "Right, everyone, be quick about it. These stairs like to move, and if you're not careful, you might end up on the wrong floor entirely."

Harry hesitated as the steps beneath his feet gave a slight tremor. He grabbed the railing instinctively.

"Don't worry," Percy added with a grin. "They're not dangerous. Usually."

"Usually?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Just don't get distracted," Percy replied, leading them up at a brisk pace.

About halfway up, the staircase shuddered and began to swing to the left. Hermione squeaked in alarm and clutched Harry's arm.

"It's fine," Harry said quickly, though his own heart was racing.

The stairs eventually locked into place with a dull thunk, and Percy resumed walking as though nothing unusual had happened.

"See?" he said. "Perfectly safe."

Ron muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Perfectly mad."

As they moved deeper into the castle, the corridors grew narrower and colder. The torches burned lower here, casting long, flickering shadows across the walls.

Harry couldn't help but notice how quiet it had become. The laughter and chatter of the Great Hall seemed like a distant memory. Even the portraits were silent, their painted inhabitants watching the group with solemn expressions.

"Why is it so cold here?" Neville Longbottom asked nervously, clutching his toad, Trevor, to his chest.

"It's just the castle," Percy said dismissively. "Old places like this sometimes feel a bit chilly."

But Harry wasn't convinced. He felt it again—that faint pulse of magic, dark and cold, thrumming through the air. He glanced at Hermione, who was frowning slightly, her eyes scanning the walls as though she, too, could sense something unusual.

"Do you feel that?" Harry whispered to her.

"Feel what?" she asked, lowering her book.

"Like... the castle is alive," Harry said. He hesitated, unsure how to put the sensation into words. "Like it's... watching us."

Hermione gave him a curious look. "Hogwarts is enchanted. Of course, it feels alive. But you're imagining the rest."

Harry wasn't so sure.

Finally, they arrived at a large portrait of a plump woman in a pink silk dress. She was reclining in a gilded frame, fanning herself lazily with a feathered fan.

"Password?" she asked in a singsong voice, sitting up as the group approached.

"Caput Draconis," Percy said confidently.

The Fat Lady gave a small hum of approval before swinging forward to reveal a circular hole in the wall. Beyond it was a cozy-looking common room filled with squashy armchairs, a roaring fireplace, and warm red and gold decor.

"Gryffindor Tower," Percy announced as they stepped inside. "This is where you'll spend most of your time when you're not in classes or the library. Girls' dormitories are up the stairs to the left, boys' to the right. Don't try to go into the wrong one; the stairs are enchanted to stop you."

"How?" Ron asked.

"You don't want to find out," Percy said with a grin.

Harry climbed the spiral staircase to the boys' dormitory, his legs aching from the long day. The room was small but cozy, with four-poster beds draped in thick crimson curtains. His trunk had already been brought up and placed at the foot of his bed, along with Hedwig's cage.

The snowy owl hooted softly as Harry approached, and he smiled.

"Hey, girl," he said, stroking her feathers gently. "This is going to be home for a while, I guess."

Hedwig nipped at his finger affectionately before fluffing her feathers and settling down.

Ron flopped onto the bed next to Harry's, sighing loudly. "This place is mental, isn't it? Moving stairs, talking portraits... I feel like I'll wake up and it'll all have been a dream."

"Yeah," Harry said absently, still running his fingers over Hedwig's soft feathers. But he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Hogwarts than even the magic and wonder he'd seen so far.

As he pulled the curtains around his bed and lay down, Harry thought of the Sorting Hat's warning, the cold pulse of magic in the corridors, and the strange unease that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

He didn't know what lay ahead, but one thing was certain—Hogwarts was a place of secrets, and he had a feeling he'd barely scratched the surface.