The next morning, the castle was bright and noisy again, full of floating candles, chattering portraits, and excited first-years still discovering secret stairs and talking suits of armor.
The Great Hall shimmered in warm candlelight as morning breakfast began. Students filled their House tables, voices blending into a hum of chatter, clinking spoons, and fluttering owls delivering mail.
But Harris Wells wasn't at the Ravenclaw table.
He sat instead at a smaller circular table near the side wall, one of the newly established Inter-House Friendship Circles, created by Professor Flitwick to encourage unity between students from different Houses.
Most kids ignored these tables.
The three of them spent most of the day together as it was weekend and there were no classes today.
Summer told them about her family, how the Greengrass name meant people expected her to be perfect, quiet, and distant.
"But I'm not really like that," she said, after a long pause.
Alex talked about growing up in London and how his parents still didn't believe real magic existed, they thought Hogwarts was some fancy boarding school pretending to be magical.
Harris just listened. He spoke sometimes, told them about Elderfield, about Mara and Thom, about growing up near a wishing well.
He didn't tell them everything, not yet but it felt good to be seen.
Even Summer smiled more now.
That evening, they sat on the stone steps outside the library, watching the sun dip behind the towers.
"I still can't believe this place is real," Alex said.
"Believe it," Summer replied. "It's only the beginning."
Later, in his dorm, Harris lay awake in bed, staring at the wooden ceiling above.
Something was pulling at him again.
He'd felt it all day, every time he passed a bookshelf or touched a textbook. It was like the books themselves were calling to him, whispering at the edge of his mind.
Come find us.
Come remember.
He sat up, heartbeat quickening.
He didn't know why, but it felt like he needed to go to the library. Like something was waiting.
He got out of bed quietly, took his wand, and slipped out of the dorm. The castle was quiet and dark.
Portraits snored gently, and the torches on the walls flickered like they were half-asleep too. Harris moved slowly, sticking to the shadows, heading toward the library.
But as he turned a corner, a loud creak echoed down the hall.
He froze.
Then he heard it
"Who's there?" came a gruff voice.
Filch.
Harris's eyes widened. The caretaker's lantern appeared around the bend, swinging like a slow pendulum.
"I know someone's out here," Filch muttered. "Out of bed and sneaking around…"
Harris spun and ran.
He darted down a side corridor, his footsteps quiet but fast. Filch shouted behind him, and the glow of the lantern grew brighter.
He turned left, then right, heart pounding. A ghost floated through a wall and nearly screamed, Harris waved a hand wildly and kept going.
He didn't know where he was going… until his magic did.
The pull in his chest grew stronger, like a string guiding him.
The library.
He reached the tall oak doors and slipped inside.
It was dark and silent, except for the occasional soft flutter of a page turning somewhere in the distance.
He ducked between two shelves, panting, heart racing. No sound from the hall. Maybe Filch had lost him.
The library was darker than usual. All the main lights were out. Only a few candles floated gently through the rows of shelves.
Harris crept in, heart thudding.
He didn't know what he was looking for.
He just followed the feeling.
Deeper and deeper into the shelves, past books on dragons, curses, and magical plants. Past the tables and reading chairs. Past even the Restricted Section.
At the far back, near the wall, he noticed something odd, a small stone archway partly covered by a tall, dusty bookcase.
He stepped closer. The air felt heavier here.
He reached out and touched the stone.
It moved.
A hidden door opened without a sound.
Inside was a small room, and in the center, on a stone pedestal, was a single book, wrapped in violet leather, with silver runes glowing faintly across its cover.
The Codex of Avalon.
The moment he looked at it, the room grew cold. A voice echoed in his head, not loud, not scary, just... ancient.
"You who remember what was forgotten… You may turn the page. But every truth has its price."
Harris stepped forward. His fingers brushed the cover.
The book waiting to be opened.
And his first-year adventure began.