Harry potter and the stone

The soft glow of dawn filtered through the stained-glass windows of Gryffindor Tower, casting colorful patterns on the floor of the common room. Harry descended the staircase, his robes slightly rumpled and his mind still heavy with the strange dreams that had plagued him during the night. Images of dark corridors and whispering voices lingered in his thoughts, though he couldn't make sense of them.

"Harry! Come on, mate, breakfast!" Ron's voice jolted him from his thoughts. Ron stood by the portrait hole, looking like he'd been up for hours, though his hair stuck up at odd angles.

"I'm coming," Harry said, grabbing his bag and joining Ron.

The Gryffindors filed out of the common room in small groups, the excitement of their first full day at Hogwarts buzzing through the air. The chatter of students filled the castle corridors as they made their way to the Great Hall.

Hogwarts seemed to have come alive overnight. The suits of armor gleamed in the morning light, and the enchanted ceiling above the grand staircase swirled with wisps of pink and gold as the sunrise continued to break. The moving staircases shifted lazily, creaking as if still waking up.

Harry stayed close to Hermione and Ron as they navigated the twisting paths leading to the Great Hall. Hermione had already pulled out a notebook and was furiously jotting down notes.

"What are you writing?" Harry asked.

"A list of spells mentioned in Hogwarts: A History," Hermione replied without looking up. "We're bound to learn some of them this year."

Ron rolled his eyes. "It's breakfast, Hermione, not an exam."

"I'm just prepared, that's all," she said primly.

Harry smiled faintly, but his attention wandered as they passed a particularly cold stretch of corridor. For a moment, he thought he heard that faint, unsettling hum again, like the castle itself was whispering in a language he couldn't understand. He shook it off, focusing instead on the growing noise of students ahead.

The Great Hall was as magnificent in the morning as it had been the night before. The enchanted ceiling reflected the pale blue of the early sky, dotted with a few lingering clouds. Long tables groaned under the weight of a feast, from golden-brown toast to sizzling sausages and pots of steaming porridge.

Harry slid onto the bench beside Ron, who immediately began piling his plate high. Hermione joined them, her notebook still in hand.

"Are you ever not studying?" Ron asked through a mouthful of sausage.

Hermione sniffed. "Some of us want to excel."

Before Ron could retort, Professor McGonagall appeared at their table, her sharp eyes scanning the group of first-years. She held a small stack of parchment in her hands.

"Your timetables," she announced briskly, handing them out one by one.

Harry took his timetable and glanced over it. His heart sank slightly at the sight of all the classes—some of the names were familiar, like Charms and Herbology, but others, like Potions and Transfiguration, filled him with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Ron leaned over to peek at Harry's timetable. "Double Potions with the Slytherins," he groaned. "That'll be a laugh."

"Speak for yourself," Hermione said, squinting at her own timetable. "Professor Snape is supposed to be brilliant."

"Brilliantly terrifying, more like," Ron muttered.

As the first-years compared timetables and swapped thoughts about their upcoming classes, Harry found himself distracted by the other students in the hall. The older years sat in clusters, laughing and chatting, their robes marked with house crests. A group of Slytherins at the far table caught his eye, particularly the pale-haired boy from the train—Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy noticed Harry looking and smirked, leaning over to whisper something to his companions. They laughed, and Harry quickly looked away.

"Don't let them bother you," Hermione said, noticing his expression. "You're a Gryffindor now. It doesn't matter what they think."

Harry nodded but couldn't shake the feeling that Malfoy was going to be a problem.

As breakfast wound down, the students began to leave the Great Hall in groups, heading to their first classes. Harry lingered for a moment, letting the others file out ahead.

The hum was back—the same dark, cold pulse he'd felt the night before. It seemed stronger now, weaving through the air like an unseen thread.

"Harry?" Hermione called from the doorway.

He shook himself out of his reverie and hurried to join her and Ron. But as they stepped into the corridor, he couldn't help but glance back at the Great Hall, the enchanted ceiling now a bright, cloudless blue.

Whatever it was, Harry was certain of one thing—it wasn't going to stay hidden for long.