After changing clothes, slipping his pocket watch into his robes, and tucking his wand away, Noah left the dormitory with slow, measured steps.
The common room was empty, the fire crackling warmly in the hearth. Tempting as it was to linger, he didn't stop.
Hogwarts was massive, and he knew it would take ages to cover the entire castle.
"If I explore a little every time I have free time, maybe I'll finish before graduation," Noah muttered with a hint of humor.
This morning, all he wanted was to find a few classrooms before breakfast so he wouldn't be late. The prefect had promised to hand out their schedules at the meal.
It was barely 6:20, and on a rainy morning like this, the castle was silent. Only Noah's light footsteps echoed through the halls.
Though it was dark, he could still see well enough. To avoid waking the portraits, he decided against conjuring light.
Retracing the route he'd taken the previous night, he reversed his steps until he reached the Great Hall again.
That morning's exploration was limited to the ground floor and part of the first floor. Noah walked while admiring the castle's architecture—the stonework, the enchanted ceiling, the fire-lit pillars. Magic lingered everywhere.
"Should I build something like this for myself someday? A fortress? A wizard's tower?" He chuckled.
As he walked, something cold and dreadful passed through him, making him shiver. He nearly drew his wand but sensed no danger. Shaking himself as if to wipe off the feeling, he frowned at the ghost floating before him.
It was the Bloody Baron of Slytherin. The ghost looked at him, said nothing, and drifted through a wall.
"Ah, yes. Super polite," Noah muttered. "I should trap him in an enchanted bottle and toss him in the lake to keep the Giant Squid company."
Not in the mood to keep exploring, he decided to return to the dormitory. For a first morning, that was enough. He wasn't in a hurry—wandering the castle itself was a delight.
Well, except for being walked through by a ghost.
Noah's memory was sharper than words could describe. Without difficulty, he found his way back to the Great Hall, then climbed to Ravenclaw Tower on the fifth floor.
By now, the common room had a handful of students lounging near the fire, books in hand, murmuring notes to each other.
Noah climbed the stairs quickly back to the dormitory.
The three idiots were still asleep. Noah stopped at his own bed first, where Night's cage rested.
"Hey, girl. I'll let you out to head to the owlery."
He opened the cage, and Night hopped onto his shoulder, pecked him a few times, then flew off.
Checking his pocket watch, Noah saw it was 7:28. Breakfast would be served soon.
"Time to wake the sleepyheads," he murmured, stopping in the middle of the room facing the beds.
He raised his hand and made a pulling motion—their blankets yanked off all at once.
Michael, apparently the lightest sleeper, cracked his eyes open with a yawn.
"Morning," he mumbled.
Terry rolled over, fumbling blindly for his missing blanket.
Anthony searched too, and when he didn't find it, he groaned, his face still puffy with sleep. "Pretty sure I slept on my arm—it's numb."
Only Terry didn't wake.
Noah's eyes slid to the open window where rain was falling. Smirking, he flicked his wrist, drawing a small stream of water toward himself.
Michael, still bleary-eyed, sat up, watching curiously as Noah played with the floating water.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Nothing. Just keeping my word about making sure no one's late," Noah answered with a smile—though Michael swore it looked mischievous.
Another flick, and the water drifted over Terry, hovered, and splashed down directly onto his warm little friend inside his pants.
A shriek followed by a crash echoed through the dormitory. Moments later, laughter spilled from the common room below, loud enough to draw curious glances even from students outside.
"Why would you do that?" Terry shouted, fumbling with his soaked pants.
"I didn't do anything," Noah shrugged. "The wind must've blown rain in through the window."
"Doesn't sound like the truth," Terry grumbled, pulling on his uniform.
"Well, your bed's wet now. So either it was the rain, or you wet yourself. Pick one," Noah quipped.
"Oi!" Terry hurled a pillow at him, then muttered, "Not a word about this to anyone."
The pillow froze midair, floated back, and landed neatly on his bed.
"You know, you could not use magic every single time. Makes everything boring," Terry muttered. "Just wait until I've had a few lessons and become the most powerful student in our class."
Noah grinned. "Work hard, then."
The boys left the dormitory, heading toward the Great Hall for breakfast.
"How much do you actually know?" Michael asked. "I mean, about magic."
Noah didn't hesitate. "I know a trick or two."
"Feels like you're being annoyingly modest," Terry said.
Noah laughed. "If I told you I could drain the lake outside with a snap of my fingers, would you believe me?"
Terry stared at him for a moment before replying, "No. Better stick to fake modesty."
Noah chuckled, ignoring Michael's thoughtful stare—he clearly wasn't sure whether to believe him or not.
On the way down, every student they passed was buzzing about one thing: Harry Potter.
The same topic dominated the Great Hall during breakfast. All four tables whispered about him.
Noah caught Harry's eyes across the hall. He and his friends waved; Noah waved back.
But another matter soon drew everyone's attention—class schedules. The prefect handed them out, and all the first-years scrambled for parchment and quills to copy them.
"You're not writing it down?" Anthony asked, noticing Noah still calmly eating his toast.
"Already did," Noah said after swallowing.
"Really? When?" Anthony frowned.
Noah tapped his temple. "It's right here."
"Sure it is," Anthony muttered, unconvinced. Noah just smiled and offered no explanation.
Classes began that very day. Over the following week, the first-years were gradually introduced to their subjects.
Unlike most students, who groaned about the workload and found lessons difficult, Noah, a true lover of magic, didn't mind. Three pages of parchment about a historic wizard? He'd do it. Sitting through lectures on magical theory? Fine—no amount of personal talent could replace the wisdom of seasoned professors.
In Herbology, taught in the greenhouse by Professor Sprout—a short, broad witch who handled plants with expert mastery—Noah excelled easily. His eyes didn't allow him to repeat mistakes with flora.
History of Magic, however, was easily the most boring subject. Professor Binns, a ghost, droned endlessly about the past, citing events as though he'd lived them—which, given his age, was entirely possible.
It was a class filled with essays on old wizards and historical events. The students hated it, but Noah knew it was essential. Only by understanding the past could one grasp the present and prepare for the future.
Great rebellions, magical catastrophes—the history of magic was fascinating, though confusing when distinguishing Emeric the Evil from Uric the Oddball.
Astronomy was another subject Noah enjoyed. Every Wednesday at midnight, climbing the Astronomy Tower to gaze at the stars through telescopes was breathtaking.
The universe's beauty was infinite—the light of stars that had already died, the planets, the moon, their orbits. For wizards, it all mattered.
Charms class was universally beloved. Professor Flitwick, a half-goblin, was both entertaining and brilliant. He had to stand on stacks of books to see over his desk, but when it came to teaching spells, no one was better.
So far, it was all theory: rules, tips, concepts. Flitwick made one thing clear—wizards were not monkeys waving sticks. While wand movements were important, true understanding of the spell mattered far more than memorizing gestures.
Most students ignored that, of course, focusing only on wand motions and praying for practical lessons soon.
Professor McGonagall's class, meanwhile, was strict. Jokes or distractions were crushed immediately—points deducted, lectures given.
Noah was particularly curious about Transfiguration. From his perspective, all magic could be considered a form of transfiguration—changing matter, whether air or "nothing," to produce a spell.
As usual, Noah walked briskly down the halls, Terry, Anthony, and Michael trailing behind him. He was the only one who'd memorized all the classrooms' locations.
When they arrived, several students were already seated, though plenty of spots remained.
On the professor's desk, a cat lounged, staring at the arriving students with little interest.
Noah frowned, wondering why a cat was sitting there. Then an idea sparked.
"Animagus?" he thought, activating his right eye without hesitation. But to his surprise, he couldn't detect any sign confirming the cat was more than it seemed.
Still, there was something. The gaze. As the cat stared back at him, Noah recognized it.
He smiled and gave a small wave before taking a seat near the front.
"Didn't know you were a cat person," Anthony teased.
Noah chuckled, glancing back at the cat, which now looked at him with clear curiosity.
"No matter how I look at it, I can't say for sure it's an Animagus. No visible magical fluctuations. Maybe if I push my right eye to the second level…"
He was certain he could, but activating that level still left him with splitting headaches. He didn't think it was worth it here.
Still, the thought lingered.
Animagi were fascinating. Even up close, it was impossible to say that cat wasn't ordinary.
"I should study that ritual when I have time," Noah decided. And he couldn't help but wonder—was it possible to have more than one transformation?
It wouldn't be easy, and he wasn't foolish enough to try without certainty it was safe. But the idea had rooted itself in his mind.