The smells of cauldron cakes, stacks of dusty books, and a spilled mug of butterbeer reach you from the page. Your heartbeat pounds, making the same sound in your chest as your shoes would on the stone paths.
But the hooting owls, children chattering about shining racing brooms, and adult wizards milling about the streets make it feel like home. You’ve seen the wall shift and scrape out of the way to reveal a cobbled street teeming with life a dozen times. Excitement wells inside you as Hagrid taps the last brick.
