Harry finds himself wandering alone about the Hogwarts halls bathed in afternoon sunlight, silently contemplating something with a furrow between his dark brows. The warm light streams through tall windows, casting golden rectangles across the stone floor and making the dust motes dance in the air. Absentmindedly, he rubs at the infamous scar carefully covered by otherwise messy raven hair, the familiar tingle sending a slight shiver down his spine.

'Godric,' he thinks to himself silently as he hikes the strap to his bag higher up his shoulder, 'these textbooks are heavy.' The leather satchel thumps against his side with each step, containing the weight of his studies and the ever-present weight of his destiny he can never quite escape.

A portrait nearby snores loudly,打破了走廊的宁静, making Harry jump slightly. He glances around, half-expecting to see someone else, but the corridor remains empty except for himself and the sleeping nobleman in the frame. The distant sound of students laughing echoes from somewhere down the stairs, a reminder of the normalcy he so rarely experiences.