Summary: As the boats glide silently over the black lake, the students get their first glimpse of Hogwarts. Hermione spots it first, pointing up at the towering silhouette on the cliffs. Harry reacts with quiet awe. Ron, on the other hand, reacts with unfiltered, gleeful chaos.
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[Echo from end of chapter 2:]
> Then Hagrid gave a final shout.
"Right then—FORWARD!"
And the boats began to glide across the black water like they'd been waiting their whole lives for this moment.
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The lake stretched out like a sheet of black glass, disturbed only by the silent passage of the boats. The sky had gone from deep blue to near-black, the stars winking into view one by one, tiny cold flames overhead. A breeze skimmed across the surface of the water, cool and damp, threading between the first-years like a whisper.
The only sounds were the creak of wooden hulls and the soft splash of water parting beneath enchanted boats.
Ron leaned back, letting the air hit his face, eyes half-closed. He looked like he belonged on a painting titled Boy Who Accidentally Became Pirate Lord.
Then Hermione's voice cut across the quiet, sharp and urgent.
> "Oh! Look — up on the cliff!"
Ron straightened.
Harry twisted around in his seat, squinting upward.
Perched high above the lake, surrounded by sheer stone and silhouetted in the moonlight, stood the castle.
Hogwarts.
Towers clawed at the sky like giant fingers. Turrets and parapets rose at strange angles. Hundreds of windows glimmered gold in the dark, like distant stars trapped in a stone colossus. The bridge arched impossibly over shadow. A castle of magic, of history, of power.
Harry whispered, "That's Hogwarts…"
His voice was small. Reverent.
Ron, however, stood up in the boat like someone just gave him a lifetime pass to a theme park.
"OH MY GOD, A GOTH CASTLE!!!"
His voice bounced off the cliffs and water like an explosion of fireworks.
Hermione jumped and grabbed the boat's side. "Sit down, you'll tip us over!"
But Ron wasn't hearing her. His arms were raised to the sky.
"It's got POINTY BITS! SPIRES! DARK AURA! We're gonna learn WITCHCRAFT in a VAMPIRE PALACE!!"
"You're going to drown in a vampire palace if you don't SIT," Hermione hissed, holding onto the side for dear life.
Harry just laughed, loud and full, shaking his head as Ron finally dropped back into his seat with a wide grin plastered across his face.
"Can you believe this place?" Ron said, eyes wide. "I mean—LOOK at it! Look at that tower. That one's definitely cursed."
"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione muttered, cheeks pink, though she couldn't keep the smile from tugging at her mouth.
"Don't ruin the mood lady nerdness" Ron said, mock-pouting. "Let me have my Gothic Joy Moment."
As the boats curved toward the underground dock, the glowing castle loomed larger and larger above them. The cold mist kissed their faces.
Ron sat back, satisfied, still gazing up at it like it was the best birthday cake ever baked by demons.
"This place is so extra," he whispered. "I love it."
The boats drifted under a low arch of stone and into a shadowy tunnel. The air grew colder and damper, echoing with the slosh of water and the distant creak of mooring ropes. The reflections of torchlight danced across the wet cavern walls as the boats finally bumped gently against a rocky underground dock.
"Out yeh get!" Hagrid called, stepping easily onto the stone landing with a large splash.
Ron hopped out with his usual dramatic flair, landing with a triumphant squelch. "That," he declared, "was the best aquatic death march of my life."
Harry grinned. Hermione rolled her eyes, though she didn't disagree.
Hagrid lifted a lantern and led the way up a narrow flight of damp stone steps. The path curled upward, torches flickering along the moss-covered walls, casting shadows that jittered like ghosts with cold fingers.
Ron lagged only slightly behind, trailing one hand along the slick wall as they walked. "Do you think they light these torches manually or is there like… a fire elf union?"
Harry snorted.
"Shh!" Hermione whispered. "We're about to go inside!"
The group emerged at last onto a stone landing, facing an enormous door. It rose at least twenty feet high, made of ancient, weathered oak and bound in heavy iron bands. The hinges looked like they belonged on a dragon cage.
Hagrid turned to face them, his lantern casting golden light up into his wild beard and beetle-black eyes.
> "Now then — all right? Ready? Here we go."
He raised a massive fist and knocked three times.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
The sound echoed like thunder in a cave.
A moment passed.
Then the doors creaked open, moaning slightly on their hinges.
Beyond them was a vast entry hall of smooth gray stone, lit by flaming torches. The floor gleamed like it had been polished by a thousand years of careful footsteps. Arched ceilings soared overhead. Shadows flickered among high rafters.
And waiting there—impeccably composed, hands clasped in front of her, expression calm but assessing—stood Professor McGonagall.
Her emerald-green robes caught the firelight just enough to glow faintly, like deep forest velvet. A square jaw, dark eyes sharp as hawk's talons, and not a hair out of place beneath her pointed hat.
Ron let out a quiet, admiring, "Whoa," under his breath.
Harry straightened. Hermione instinctively smoothed her robes.
McGonagall's gaze swept over the group with precise efficiency—already evaluating, already sorting with her eyes. She paused briefly on Ron, who gave her a sheepish smile and a two-fingered salute like she was a commanding officer.
She didn't react.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said coolly. "Please follow me."