The first year at Hogwarts feels like stepping into a dream that might collapse at any moment. The castle towers above you, ancient and indifferent, every stone soaked in centuries of whispered secrets and shifting staircases that seem almost to move when you’re not looking. The ceiling of the Great Hall mirrors the sky, and for a heartbeat you wonder if the clouds themselves are watching, or if they are waiting to judge. Everything smells faintly of parchment, candlewax, and damp stone, and the scent sticks to your robes like a reminder that you are new here — not yet a part of the story, only a spectator waiting for your cue.