Adam awoke well before the sun had risen, with most of the castle still wrapped in darkness and silence. He slipped out of bed and took a deep breath, steadying himself before beginning his morning routine. He carefully executed his breathing exercises, moving as quietly as possible so as not to disturb his sleeping housemates. In the stillness of the Gryffindor dormitory, the soft snores and shifting of blankets were the only sounds. Adam feed Seraphina who was pecking him.

Moving quietly, he slipped into his robes, glancing at his pocket watch. It was 6 a.m. Adam reviewed his schedule in his mind, running through each class and break:

* 6:30–7:30 a.m.: Breakfast

* 7:45–8:30 a.m.: Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall

* 8:45–9:30 a.m.: Charms with Professor Flitwick

* 9:45–10:30 a.m.: Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Quirrell

* 10:45–11:30 a.m.: Herbology with Professor Sprout

* 11:45 a.m.–12:45 p.m.: Lunch

* 1:00–1:45 p.m.: History of Magic with Professor Flamel

* 2:00–2:45 p.m.: Astronomy with Professor Sinistra

* 3:00–4:45 p.m.: Potions with Professor Snape

* 5:00–6:00 p.m.: Flying with Madam Hooch

* 6:00–7:00 p.m.: Dinner

* 7:00–8:00 p.m.: Break/Homework

* 8:00 p.m.–12:00 a.m.: Dorms and Free Time (Curfew by 09:00AM)

Library hours: Monday–Sunday, 9 AM–8 PM

Weekends: No classes on Saturday or Sunday

Satisfied, Adam tucked his timetable away. Before heading to the Great Hall for breakfast—he left a small note of thanks on his nightstand, in case any of the house-elves happened to stop by—who he knew were hardworking and friendly, might appreciate his gesture.

The castle was quiet as Adam roamed the empty halls, his footsteps echoing softly. Suddenly a ghostly figure drifted by, shimmering in the dim light. Adam recognized him as the ghost known as Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor house ghost. "Good morning, Sir Nicholas," Adam said respectfully.

“Ah, a polite young Gryffindor,” Nick said, offering a nod that almost dislodged his partially severed head. “Early riser, are we?”

“Yes, sir,” Adam replied. “It’s nice to have the castle to myself for a while.”

Nick chuckled, “The halls have many secrets, young lad. Stay curious.”

Feeling both a bit charmed and curious about Nick's words, Adam continued his walk. He passed a few early-rising students from other houses and greeted them, nodding politely to some familiar faces. As he approached the Great Hall, the scent of warm food drifted toward him, and he felt a pang of hunger.

By 6:30 a.m., he was seated at the Gryffindor table with a few other students who’d also risen early. The house-elves had laid out breakfast with impressive speed and precision, and Adam helped himself to toast and eggs. He noticed the occasional flicker of movement as an elf appeared briefly, their presence barely noticeable as they served food.

Adam thought about the house-elves’ work and wondered if he might get a chance to visit them in the kitchens someday. Perhaps, with the help of a Time-Turner, he could slip away and learn about their cooking secrets or befriend them.

By the time he had finished, it was almost time for Transfiguration. He noticed a sleek tabby cat perched near the doorway, her bright eyes watching the students passing by. A flicker of recognition crossed Adam's face—it was Professor McGonagall in her Animagus form, a form he had seen only briefly before.

“Good morning, Professor,” he greeted her softly, knowing she'd understand. In response, the cat stretched gracefully before shifting back into her human form with a flick of her wand, her robes settling elegantly around her.

“Good morning, Mr. Morgan,” McGonagall replied with a nod, a hint of warmth in her otherwise composed demeanor. Adam could tell that she remembered him from his birthday encounter at Morgan Castle. Her gaze held a mixture of curiosity and expectation, as though she knew more about him than she let on—a realization that made him stand a bit straighter. The Morgans' reputation preceded him, and he could sense that she expected a lot from him, perhaps even more than she did from the average student.

Settling into a seat in the middle row, Adam took out his books, glancing around as the other students trickled in. The room filled with a quiet buzz of anticipation, broken only by the occasional murmur and the shuffle of papers. Just as Professor McGonagall stepped to the front of the room, a loud commotion by the door drew everyone's attention. Ron Weasley and Harry Potter stumbled in, slightly breathless and looking a bit sheepish.

“We, uh... got lost,” Ron mumbled, running a hand through his hair as a faint flush crept up his neck.

Adam stifled a chuckle, remembering their endless complaints about navigating the castle’s ever-changing staircases. There was something endearing about their bumbling yet earnest attempts to make it on time, and he found himself smiling as they slumped into seats toward the back.

McGonagall’s lesson began with a thorough explanation of basic transformation principles, her voice commanding yet engaging. Adam focused intently, absorbing every word, and trying to anticipate her questions before she asked them. Transfiguration was challenging—one wrong wand movement could turn an object into something entirely unintended, yet the precision appealed to Adam. He was meticulous, his quill moving fluidly as he completed his assignment.

As he finished, he noticed McGonagall’s approving nod in his direction, followed by the announcement of 20 house points for his efforts. A sense of pride warmed him, and he caught Hermione Granger’s intense gaze from a few seats away. Her competitive nature was unmistakable; her eyes narrowed slightly, as if determined to outdo him next time.

Adam couldn’t help but let out a slight chuckle, letting her reaction roll off him. Though he admired her drive, he wasn’t here to compete—at least, not with her. He shifted his focus back to his notes, already eager for the next lesson and the challenges it would bring.

After class, Harry and Ron approached him, seeking clarification on the early part of the lesson. He walked them through it, and Hermione soon joined the conversation, curious about his insights.

The day continued with Charms, where Professor Flitwick’s boundless enthusiasm lifted the energy of the entire class. Standing atop a stack of books to better see his students, Flitwick’s small frame was animated, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he demonstrated wand movements with a flourish. Adam found himself captivated by the professor’s dedication and skill. The spells felt almost intuitive, and Adam’s wandwork seemed to flow naturally under Flitwick’s guidance. As he successfully completed a particularly tricky charm, a smile of approval spread across Flitwick’s face, and he awarded Adam additional house points.

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There was a spark of satisfaction in the professor’s gaze, a subtle acknowledgment that Adam was living up to the reputation of his family—and perhaps exceeding expectations. Adam felt a small surge of pride but tempered it with humility, simply nodding his thanks and continuing his work. He didn’t want to draw too much attention; it was enough for him to know he was performing well.

Later, in Defense Against the Dark Arts, the atmosphere shifted considerably. Professor Quirrell’s classroom felt strangely cold, and Adam noted an odd tension in the air. Quirrell, twitchy and nervous, stumbled through his lecture, his gaze flickering around the room as if he expected danger to strike at any moment.

Adam couldn’t help but glance at the professor’s large, tightly wrapped turban. He knew the dark secret concealed within it, though he kept his expression carefully neutral, betraying none of the thoughts racing through his mind. Voldemort. The name echoed in his thoughts, both terrifying and thrilling in its own way. He reminded himself to stay vigilant, to observe Quirrell more closely in the coming lessons.

As the class went on, Adam took meticulous notes, determined to learn as much as he could. Quirrell might be a strange instructor, but Adam knew that knowledge of the Dark Arts was essential—even if he’d prefer it came from someone more trustworthy. His mind wandered momentarily, imagining the potential threats that lay beyond the castle walls. Hogwarts was safe for now, but he knew that safety was never guaranteed, especially with Voldemort lurking so close.

When the bell rang, signaling the end of the lesson, Adam calmly packed up his books, casting a last, cautious look at Quirrell before exiting the classroom.

Lunch arrived just in time to give Adam a break from the intense morning classes. He joined Harry and Ron at the Gryffindor table, where they quickly fell into a lively discussion about magical creatures. Harry listened intently as Adam shared his fascination for studying them, his face lighting up with interest as Adam described some of the rare species he'd read about.

“So, you’re telling me that there are creatures like the Thunderbirds and Demiguises just out there, somewhere in the world?” Harry asked, his eyes wide.

“Exactly. They’re incredible, each one with abilities that make them unique—and sometimes dangerous,” Adam replied with a grin. “Thunderbirds, for example, can sense danger and summon storms. And Demiguises? They can turn invisible at will, which makes them nearly impossible to find in the wild.”

Ron looked intrigued but slightly skeptical. “I’d still rather stay clear of anything with claws or venom, if you ask me.”

Adam chuckled. “Fair enough. But it’s the challenge of learning about them that excites me. There’s so much magic in the world beyond spells and potions—sometimes creatures can teach you things that even the best wizard can’t.”

Their conversation drifted to other magical curiosities until the bell signaled the end of lunch, and the group headed to History of Magic. Professor Cuthbert Binns, the ghostly lecturer, drifted through the blackboard as he began his monotone lecture on ancient wizarding conflicts. His transparent form floated above the class, his droning voice lulling some students into a sleepy haze. Adam, however, forced himself to listen, jotting down notes even as his mind wandered to how much more engaging the subject could be with a livelier professor.

Next came Astronomy, a subject Adam found calming as they studied the night sky, mapping constellations and learning about the mystical influence of planets on magic. The quiet of the Astronomy Tower offered a welcome reprieve from the busy corridors of the castle, and Adam enjoyed the precision and patience the subject required.

Finally, as evening approached, he made his way to the dungeons for Potions with Professor Snape. The dimly lit room was lined with shelves of mysterious ingredients in glass jars, casting eerie shadows on the stone walls.

Snape swept into the room, his dark robes billowing, his sharp gaze instantly silencing any whispers among the students. He began the lesson with an almost theatrical intensity, his deep voice echoing as he lectured on the importance of precision in potion-making. Adam noticed the professor’s harsh tone seemed to soften whenever he addressed the Slytherins, particularly a boy named Draco Malfoy, who wore a smug expression as he nodded along with Snape’s words.

However, when Snape turned his attention to Harry, his expression grew colder, almost disdainful. Snape’s sneering remarks about Harry’s lack of skill felt calculated, and Adam could see the tension in his friend’s shoulders. Adam found Snape’s favoritism and thinly veiled hostility intriguing; as he knows the future plot.

Determined to stay on the professor’s good side, Adam worked meticulously on his potion, double-checking each instruction. When he finally managed to brew a nearly flawless potion, Snape glanced at his work with a neutral, perhaps even slightly approving nod, though he said nothing.

As they packed up their supplies at the end of class, Harry shrugged, a mix of irritation and confusion on his face. “I don’t get it. It’s like he’s got a grudge against me, but I’ve barely said two words to him, Adam nodded thoughtfully.

Then came Flying class with Madam Hooch, and Adam enjoyed watching Harry and Malfoy’s rivalry over Neville's Remembrall after Neville accident with broom. Adam stayed back, watching with a smirk as Harry’s natural skill surfaced. McGonagall soon whisked Harry away, leaving Adam confident that his friend would soon make an impressive addition as a Seeker. Adam enjoyed the Flying lesson on broom more than he expected, feeling a rush of nostalgia as the wind whipped past him. The sensation of soaring through the air was oddly familiar—like riding on the winds at Morgan Castle with his grandfather. Back at home, his grandfather had taught him how to fly broom, something he had always found both calming and exhilarating.

As class ended, Ron and Harry launched into an excited discussion with Adam about Harry's newly appointed role as the youngest Seeker in a century.

“Can you believe it, Adam?” Harry said, still half in disbelief. “I didn’t even know I could play Quidditch, let alone be the youngest Seeker at Hogwarts!”

Adam smiled, sharing in Harry’s enthusiasm. “That’s incredible, Harry. “Yeah,” Ron added, clearly proud of his friend, “and Harry’s going to show Slytherin who’s boss! It’s about time Gryffindor had a proper chance at winning.”

Their conversation was interrupted by Hermione, who approached them with a purposeful expression. “You three, come with me. There’s something you’ll want to see.”

Curious, they followed her down several corridors until she stopped in front of the Hogwarts Trophy Room. She led them inside, her finger pointing toward a glistening glass case. Harry stepped forward, eyes widening as he spotted a trophy inscribed with his father’s name.

“James Potter… Seeker for Gryffindor,” he whispered, tracing the letters as if they held a magic all their own. His face softened, his connection to his father feeling more tangible than ever. “I didn’t know he played too.”

Adam observed the moment, feeling Harry’s quiet awe. But as he looked around, he noticed other familiar names on the trophies and plaques displayed throughout the room. The Morgans had earned several awards and honors, from achievements in magical creature studies to ancient Hogwarts tournaments. He felt a rush of pride, knowing his family’s legacy was woven into the school’s history.

After dinner, the four of them made their way back to Gryffindor Tower, chatting about classes and speculating about upcoming Quidditch matches. Adam greeted a few portraits along the way, engaging them in conversation as he had started doing whenever he saw them. As they climbed the Great Staircase, their voices echoing through the vast hall. Just as they reached the landing, however, the staircase gave an abrupt shudder. The steps shifted beneath them, and the banisters twisted, carrying them to an unfamiliar corridor.