The castle had been alive since dawn. Students thrummed through the corridors in scarves and house colours, a river of crimson and gold flowing one way, green and silver the other. Quidditch. Slytherin versus Gryffindor. The first match of the season.

The stands loomed ahead, a wooden giant buzzing with noise. Prefects were trying to keep order at the entrances, but no one cared. The air smelled of damp grass and butterbeer.