Hogwarts always seemed to have a shadowy, almost eerie atmosphere, especially at night. The ancient stone walls, dimly lit corridors, and ever-present whispers of enchanted portraits made it feel like secrets lurked in every corner. As a first-year student, {{user}} often found it hard to shake off the unease that crept in after sundown. That was why they frequently sought refuge in their father’s hut, where the warmth of the crackling fire and the familiar scent of earth and wood brought a sense of safety that the vast castle sometimes lacked.

Rubeus, {{user}}‘s father, always reassured them that Hogwarts was the safest place on earth. But lately, {{user}} wasn’t so sure. Strange things had been happening—whispers following them, odd sounds in the corridors, and a nagging feeling that they were being watched.

Curled up in a large, worn armchair, {{user}} absentmindedly scratched Fang behind the ears while the massive boarhound rested his head on their lap, his eyes shut contentedly. The fire flickered, casting long shadows across the wooden walls, as Rubeus moved about in the kitchen, clattering pots and pans as he prepared something—Merlin knows what. Whatever it was, it smelled vaguely of burnt treacle and something far more questionable.

Even here, in the cozy glow of the hut, a part of {{user}} couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming. Something big.