The night air was crisp and cool as we climbed out of the train, the scent of the forest surrounding us as we stepped onto the platform. Dim lanterns illuminated the area, casting long shadows across the crowd of first years.
"Firs' years, over here!" boomed a familiar voice.
Hagrid stood near the edge of the platform, waving one massive hand to gather us together. His shaggy beard and twinkling eyes were just as warm and inviting as they had been at the station.
"Come on, follow me!" Hagrid called, leading us away from the train. "Mind yer step now."
We stumbled along a narrow path, the cool night breeze brushing against our faces. The path sloped gently downward, and soon enough, we were standing at the edge of a large, dark lake.
My breath caught.
Across the water, bathed in the glow of a thousand flickering lights, stood Hogwarts.
The castle was breathtaking—its towering turrets and sprawling walls illuminated against the night sky. It looked like something out of a dream, standing proud and ancient, its many windows glittering like stars.
"Blimsey," Ron whispered beside me, his mouth slightly open.
"It's… beautiful," Rose murmured softly, her eyes wide with wonder.
"Four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of small boats bobbing gently along the shore.
We clambered in, and as luck would have it, I ended up sharing a boat with Rose, Ron, and Neville. Hermione had hopped into the next one, sitting beside a nervous-looking girl with pigtails.
"Everyone in?" Hagrid bellowed, looking around. "Right then—FORWARD!"
With a slight lurch, the boats glided smoothly across the glassy surface of the lake. The water was calm, reflecting the shimmering lights of the castle as we drew closer. I could see the silhouettes of the other boats drifting ahead of us, their passengers whispering excitedly.
Neville, however, wasn't whispering.
"Trevor…" he mumbled softly, patting down his robes and looking around the floor of the boat. "Where's Trevor?"
"Not again," Ron groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead. "You've got to be kidding."
"I had him in my pocket," Neville said, his voice rising in panic. "I swear, I—"
Splash.
"Did… did you hear that?" Rose asked, her brows furrowing.
"Merlin's beard," I muttered, leaning slightly over the side of the boat.
"Don't tell me…" Ron's face went pale.
Neville's eyes widened in horror. "No… Trevor?!"
Splash.
"Relax, lad," Hagrid's booming voice echoed across the water. "I've got 'im!"
Our boat slowed as Hagrid's enormous hand shot down into the water with surprising speed. A moment later, he pulled up a very disgruntled-looking Trevor, dripping wet and croaking weakly.
"'E's a lively one, eh?" Hagrid chuckled, holding the slimy toad between his thick fingers.
"Trevor!" Neville cried, relief washing over his face as Hagrid carefully placed the toad back into his trembling hands.
"Better hold on tight, lad," Hagrid said with a wink. "Don't want him hoppin' off again."
Neville nodded furiously, his grip on Trevor tightening as if he was afraid the toad might vanish again.
"Poor thing," Rose murmured, giving Trevor a sympathetic look. "He's probably terrified."
"Poor thing?" Ron muttered. "I think that toad's trying to escape on purpose."
"Honestly, Ron," Rose said with a sigh.
"We're almost there!" Hagrid's voice carried over the water.
As we approached the shore, the boats glided gently toward a small dock nestled at the base of the castle's cliffs.
"Everyone out!" Hagrid called, stepping onto the dock and holding out a lantern to guide us. "Watch yer step now."
We scrambled onto the dock, Neville still cradling Trevor protectively.
"Up this way!" Hagrid led us up a narrow path that wound around the side of the cliff. The climb was steep, but the excitement bubbling inside me kept my legs moving.
As we stepped into the castle, I felt my jaw drop.
The Great Hall was more magnificent than I could have ever imagined.
Four long tables stretched from one end of the hall to the other, filled with older students who were already seated and chatting excitedly. Golden plates and goblets gleamed under the flickering candlelight. At the far end of the hall, a raised platform held another long table where the teachers sat.
But it was the ceiling that stole my breath away.
Hermione's voice, though shaky, whispered softly, "The ceiling… it's enchanted to look like the night sky." Her eyes widened as she looked up, her earlier nerves momentarily forgotten. "I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."
I followed her gaze, and sure enough, stars twinkled in the vast, velvety blackness that stretched above us. It was like standing under the open sky, with a million stars watching over us.
"Blimey," Ron whispered, craning his neck. "They don't mess around, do they?"
We gathered near the entrance, waiting for what came next. The older students were watching us with curiosity, some whispering and pointing.
That's when I noticed them.
The ghosts.
They were gliding through the hall, drifting effortlessly above the tables and floating between the students.
"Whoa…" Ron muttered, his eyes wide as he watched a translucent monk glide past.
"Look!" Rose whispered, pointing toward a group of ghosts gathered near the far wall.
They seemed to be engaged in some sort of lively debate. A fat, jolly-looking ghost was laughing heartily, while a tall, thin woman in a ruffled collar looked thoroughly unimpressed.
"I told you, Sir Patrick," the fat ghost was saying, his voice echoing slightly. "The Headless Hunt is simply not accepting partially severed ghosts!"
"Partially severed?" Ron asked, looking slightly green.
"Ah, new students!" the fat ghost noticed us, floating closer. "First years! Delightful!"
"Hello there," he said, beaming at us. "I'm the Fat Friar, Hufflepuff House." His eyes twinkled as they settled on Neville, who was still holding Trevor with a death grip. "And who might this little fellow be?"
"Trevor," Neville mumbled.
"Charming," the Friar said cheerfully.
Before he could say more, another ghost drifted toward us—a tall, aristocratic-looking man with a thin mustache and a bored expression.
"Ah," he drawled lazily. "Fresh blood." His cold gaze swept over us. "I do hope they're better behaved than last year's lot."
"Ghosts?" Ron whispered, his face turning slightly paler.
"I read about them too," Hermione said softly, her nerves momentarily forgotten.
"Better behave yourselves," the aristocratic ghost added before floating away with a disinterested look.
The atmosphere shifted as a sharp, commanding voice echoed through the hall.
"Quiet down."
Professor McGonagall stood at the front of the hall, her gaze sweeping over us. Her expression was stern, yet not unkind.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said, her tone crisp. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses."
A hush fell over the crowd.
"The Sorting Ceremony is an important tradition at Hogwarts," McGonagall continued. "Your house will be like your family during your time here. You will have classes with your housemates, share your dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room."
She paused, her gaze resting on each of us for a moment.
"The four houses are Gryffindor, known for courage and bravery; Hufflepuff, valuing loyalty and hard work; Ravenclaw, for those who prize wit and intelligence; and Slytherin, where ambition and cunning are valued."
"While you are here, your triumphs will earn your house points," she continued. "Any rule-breaking, however, will result in points being deducted. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will be awarded the House Cup."
McGonagall's gaze lingered a moment longer, her eyes serious.
"I shall return when we are ready for you," she said, her expression firm. "Please wait quietly."
With that, she turned and disappeared through a side door.
The tension in the room skyrocketed.
"Sorting?" Ron whispered, his face slightly pale. "How do they sort us?"
"Maybe we'll have to wrestle a troll after all," I murmured, unable to resist a grin.
Ron didn't look amused.
"I don't know…" Hermione whispered, her voice barely audible now. "I've read everything, but… I don't know how they do it."
Her eyes darted around the room, her mind clearly racing with possibilities.
"Fred said we might have to wrestle a troll," Ron whispered conspiratorially.
Hermione's eyes went wide. "A troll?"
I gave Ron a look, but he just shrugged.
"Could be true," he mumbled.
"Fighting a troll?" a boy behind us whispered, his face draining of color.
"Honestly, Ron," I muttered under my breath.
Hermione had gone pale, and she was muttering under her breath again, her lips forming silent incantations.
"Wingardium Leviosa… Lumos… Alohomora…"
"Why are you practicing spells?" Ron asked, his voice tinged with exasperation.
"Just in case," Hermione hissed, her nerves getting the better of her.
"Relax," I said softly, though my own stomach was doing somersaults.
I glanced toward Rose, whose face was calm, though her eyes flickered with quiet apprehension.
Whatever was coming… we'd find out soon enough.