Ethan woke up feeling more rested than he had in days, as if the castle itself had wrapped him in a kind of magical comfort. He lay still for a moment, staring at the deep blue canopy above his bed, embroidered with silver stars that twinkled faintly in the morning light. It wasn't just a dream. He was here, at Hogwarts. The thought surged through him like a spark.
He tossed the blanket aside, swung his legs over the edge, and placed his feet on the cool wooden floor. Around him, the other first-years were beginning to stir, yawning, stretching, mumbling sleepy greetings. There was a quiet sort of excitement humming through the air, unspoken but shared. Today was their first real day. Their first step into learning magic.
Ethan pulled on his uniform, still unfamiliar but comforting in its way. The dark robes and Ravenclaw-blue tie made him feel like he belonged to something ancient and powerful. He caught sight of his wand resting on the nightstand and picked it up, running a thumb over the smooth wood before tucking it into his robe pocket. His pulse quickened.
Downstairs, the Ravenclaw common room was quiet and washed in early light. A few older students sat near the tall windows, reading or chatting softly. Ethan didn't linger. He crossed the stone floor quickly and slipped out the door, heading for the Great Hall.
The castle was alive. Suits of armor muttered to each other as he passed, staircases creaked and shifted in the distance, and portraits eyed him with mild curiosity. Everything felt so full of motion, as if Hogwarts itself was waking up alongside its students.
By the time he entered the Great Hall, the place was already buzzing. Long tables filled with students from every house stretched out under the enchanted ceiling, which showed a soft blue morning sky dusted with clouds. Dishes clinked, owls swooped down to deliver letters, and the smell of warm food made Ethan's stomach rumble.
He made his way to the Ravenclaw table and spotted Helena, the girl he'd chatted with the night before, already munching on a piece of toast. She smiled and slid over to make room.
"Sleep well?" she asked.
"Yeah," Ethan replied, grabbing a plate and piling it with scrambled eggs, toast, and fruit. "Woke up and had to remind myself this is all real."
Helena laughed. "Same. Feels like I've stepped into a storybook."
Anthony, another first-year, leaned across the table. "I heard we've got Theory of Magic first. Bit of a slow start, yeah?"
"Better than getting hexed on day one," Ethan said, smirking. "I want to know how it all works before I start waving a wand around."
Helena shrugged. "Still. I was hoping we'd get to try a spell or two right away."
Ethan looked down the table, spotting some familiar faces from last night's Sorting. Across the room, at the Gryffindor table, Harry Potter sat with Ron and Hermione, already deep in conversation. They fit so naturally, so effortlessly into this world.
After breakfast, Ethan checked his schedule and felt his pulse skip a beat. First class: Charms, with Professor Flitwick.
The third floor wasn't far, but navigating the staircases was a challenge. One moved halfway through, shifting mid-step, and the portraits gave confusing directions. Thankfully, a group of older Ravenclaws noticed the wandering first-years and pointed them to the right door.
The Charms classroom was warm and inviting, lined with tall windows and bookshelves stuffed with ancient spellbooks and glowing magical trinkets. The desks were arranged in neat rows, and as students filtered in, Ethan took a seat near the front, heart pounding with anticipation.
Then the door swung open, and Professor Flitwick practically bounced in.
The tiny man barely cleared the top of the podium, but his voice carried with bright enthusiasm. "Ah, first-years! How delightful! Welcome to Charms. I'm Professor Flitwick, and I'll be guiding you through one of the most exciting branches of magic!"
Ethan grinned, leaning forward. Flitwick had the kind of energy that made it impossible not to be excited.
"Before we start casting spells," Flitwick continued, "we must understand what makes a charm a charm. Magic isn't just words and wand-waving, it's focus, intent, and a connection to the magical forces within you."
He waved his wand and a feather floated gracefully into the air, spinning once before settling back down. "Even a simple levitation spell requires control. Without it, things can go very wrong."
The class leaned in. Quills scratched against parchment as Flitwick launched into the theory of magical energy, how it flowed, how it was shaped, how different wands responded to different users. He moved like a conductor, drawing invisible lines in the air, and every motion of his wand sent little sparks of color dancing across the room.
Ethan's mind raced to keep up. This wasn't just magic, it was art. Intent mattered. Emotions mattered. Magic wasn't a tool; it was an extension of the self. The books he had read never captured how alive it felt, how deeply personal it was.
Flitwick began demonstrating wand movements, showing how each gesture shaped the magic being channeled. Ethan mimicked them quietly at his desk, careful to get the angles just right.
The lesson flew by. By the end, Ethan's notes were crammed with diagrams, incantations, and explanations that sent his mind spinning with possibilities. The bell rang, and he hadn't even noticed how much time had passed.
As the class gathered their things, Helena shook her head. "Alright, I'll admit it. That was way better than I expected."
"Told you," Ethan said, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
"I just want to cast something already," Anthony muttered. "Just one spell."
"Soon." Ethan promised.
They stepped into the corridor, swallowed up by the crowd of students flowing to their next class.