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Chapter 24 — First Morning
The Hufflepuff common room feels like stepping into a warm dream. Everything glows softly — the lamps, the fire, even the brass handles on the doors. It smells of bread and something sweet, maybe honey. The air is gentle and still, like the room itself is happy we've come home.
Round walls curve around us, covered with cheerful little paintings of fruit, flowers, and gardens that move slightly in the light. The furniture looks solid and well-loved — deep armchairs, small tables, and soft yellow rugs. A fire burns in the corner, crackling quietly. I can almost imagine badgers curled up nearby, safe and content.
Our prefect, a tall boy with kind eyes and tidy hair, gathers us by the stairs.
"Girls to the right, boys to the left," he says. "Four in a room. Don't be sneaky with curfew — the barrels know how to deal with intruders."
A few people laugh. He grins. "I mean it. And breakfast is at seven sharp, so don't make Professor Sprout come find you."
We follow him down a short, round corridor. The carpet is thick, and the walls are lined with moving pictures of wildflowers that sway when we pass. The smell of earth and lemon polish hangs in the air. We stop at a round wooden door polished smooth from years of use.
Inside, our dormitory glows with soft, golden light. The walls are round like the common room, and the ceiling is low enough to feel cozy but not cramped. Four big four-poster beds sit in a circle, each with thick yellow curtains and heavy quilts. A round window looks out onto the grass — I can see small flowers nodding gently in the evening breeze.
Each bed has a trunk at its foot and a little shelf above with our names neatly carved in. Mine is near the window. The spot feels right — cool, quiet, and close to the view.
My new roommates manage a few sleepy "Hi"s before yawning themselves into silence. No one has the energy to talk. After that feast, none of us can even think straight. I change into my pyjamas, fall into bed, and the quilt swallows me whole. The fabric smells like sun and soap, and the next thing I know, I'm asleep.
When I open my eyes, it's morning. Sunlight spills through the round window, bright and soft, painting golden shapes across the floor. The grass outside is shining with dew, and a few small flowers tilt toward the light. For a moment, it feels like living in a burrow — safe, hidden, but close to the open world. I think, So this is what being a badger feels like.
I get up, stretch, and find the washroom just down the corridor. The tiles are warm under my feet, and the towels smell faintly of herbs. Someone's left soap that foams green and fresh, like mint. When I come back, the others are waking.
"Morning," I say.
"Morning," one of them mumbles. Another yawns and adds, "That dinner nearly finished me off."
We all laugh a bit, still half-asleep. Everyone moves quietly, getting ready without fuss. Robes are pulled on, ties adjusted, shoes found. The black and yellow feels new but right.
"Morning," I said.
"Morning!" says a cheerful boy with messy brown hair. "I'm Jack Young. Muggle-born. You?"
"Arthur Dursley," I reply. "Same here. Muggle-born and still trying to figure it all out."
Jack grins. "Good. Then we can be confused together."
The quiet boy tying his shoelaces looks up. "Corin Ashwell," he says softly. "Also Muggle-born. My mum thought the letter was a prank."
I laugh. "Mine thought the same."
The last boy, tall and calm, pulls on his jumper. "Callum Brookshire," he says. "Half-blood. My dad's the wizard, but he never talks much about it. Guess he likes us to learn things properly."
Jack chuckles. "Properly? You mean not blowing things up before breakfast?"
"Exactly," Callum says with a small smile.
Somehow, the four of us fall into easy conversation, the nervous edge fading with each laugh and shared story. It was a little odd how quickly the nerves fade when people talk like this, like it's all just another new school.
The common room is already alive when we climb up. The fire's burning again, and students are coming out of their dorms in groups — some brushing their hair, some straightening ties, some half-running toward the door. The prefects are already calling out reminders.
"Wands, everyone! Don't forget your wands!"
We follow the crowd through the round passage and up a flight of steps. The Great Hall waits above, full of golden light and the sound of talking. The smell of toast and tea hits me right away.
The Hufflepuff table is nearly full. People are laughing, passing plates, pouring pumpkin juice. The warmth of it all feels like home again. I slip into a seat and help myself to toast and eggs.
Halfway through breakfast, the prefects hand out our timetables. I smooth mine open and trace the week with my finger.
Monday: Double Transfiguration, then Charms after lunch.
Tuesday: Double Potions, then free afternoon.
Wednesday: Double Defence Against the Dark Arts in the morning, free afternoon, Astronomy at night.
Thursday: Double Herbology, then History of Magic.
Friday: Double Charms and then Herbology.
Flying lessons — to be announced in the second or third week.
I read it twice just to make sure. The names alone sound exciting — real magic, not just talk. Around me, everyone's doing the same: comparing schedules, guessing which professors are strict or kind.
"Double Potions on Tuesday," one of my roommates says, grimacing.
"At least it's not Monday," I reply, grinning.
Breakfast goes on in a blur of chatter and clinking plates. People trade little stories — about families, about wands, about how they nearly tripped on the moving staircase already. It's easy and natural, like we've known each other longer than a day.
By the time the bell rings, the Great Hall is bright with sunlight and full of the sound of scraping benches. The prefects start leading us toward our first class.
I sling my bag over my shoulder, check my wand pocket again, and follow the group through the wide doors. My heart's beating quick, but it's not fear — it's something else.
The castle feels awake now. I can hear the hum of voices, the rush of feet on stone, the distant echo of laughter. It's the first real morning at Hogwarts, and somehow, it feels exactly right.
End of Chapter 24 — First Morning