Chapter 17
The first day of school fell on a Friday, which meant the weekend was just around the corner—and with no classes scheduled for Saturday or Sunday, students could look forward to a proper lie-in.
That, at least, was true for most students in Britain.
Sainz, however, found Hogwarts' timetable almost absurdly relaxed. His first class wasn't until nine o'clock, and there wasn't even a morning reading period. Wasn't this sleeping in every day?
And yet, by seven o'clock, he was wide awake.
Unable to drift back to sleep, he quietly slipped out of bed, careful not to wake his roommates. The dormitory was still, bathed in the soft amber light of the bedside lamps. The common room was just as silent, the air heavy with the scent of earth and dried herbs. He climbed through the familiar barrel tunnel and emerged into the stone corridor.
Moments later, he stepped out onto the dew-kissed grass just beyond the castle gates.
The morning sun had begun to stretch across the sky, casting golden light over the grounds. The Black Lake shimmered in the distance, its surface catching the sunlight like scattered stars. Beyond, the mountains loomed like slumbering giants, guarding the dark waters beneath the castle like loyal sentinels.
Sainz turned back to look at Hogwarts.
Bathed in early morning light, the castle looked different than it had the night before. It had shed its cloak of mystery and shadow and now stood proudly—majestic and serene, like a king finally stepping into the sun.
He lifted his arm, and Speedy took flight from his perch.
"I won't keep you in a cage anymore," Sainz said softly. "Fly free through the mountains. This is your world now."
The falcon let out a sharp cry, circling once above his head before landing gently on his shoulder.
"There are dangers in the Forbidden Forest," Sainz added. "So be careful. But I trust you'll manage."
Speedy, intelligent as ever, gave a gentle tug at Sainz's hair in affection before launching into the air. He climbed higher and higher until he vanished into the morning sky, a blur of wings and freedom.
With the skies now clear, Sainz took the opportunity to get his bearings. He climbed to a higher point and surveyed the grounds. The Black Lake was roughly rectangular—about two kilometers wide and six kilometers long. He estimated the surface area to be around twelve to fifteen square kilometers.
The outer wall of Hogwarts enclosed the lake on three sides. To the left, it curved inwards, enclosing the Quidditch pitch entirely. Further along, the wall turned right, eventually leading to the main entrance gate. The walls continued beyond that, extending until they disappeared into the depths of the Forbidden Forest.
That was where the stone boundary ended.
Hogwarts had no wall in the direction of the forest—it was as if the Forbidden Forest was the fourth wall.
A poetic idea, perhaps, but not a safe one.
During the Battle of Hogwarts, many of Voldemort's forces had emerged from the trees. Sainz could understand now why it had been such a vulnerable point.
From his perch, he spotted a wooden hut nestled on the forest's edge—Hagrid's home, no doubt. Smoke curled from the chimney like a mischievous ribbon, rising lazily into the sky.
Not far from the hut stood a strange, solitary tree—its bare branches stretched unnaturally high, like skeletal fingers. Sainz narrowed his eyes.
"That must be the Whomping Willow," he murmured. "The one that nearly clobbered Harry."
Closer still, he saw three enormous glass greenhouses sitting side by side like factory buildings—Herbology classrooms, most likely.
Back in his previous life, Sainz had always made a point of understanding the layout of any place he spent time in. Hogwarts was no exception.
He ticked off the necessities in his mind: emergency exits, toilets, classrooms...
"You don't want to be caught in an emergency and not even know where to pee," he muttered.
Then he added, "What else... Kitchen, Room of Requirement..."
His thoughts skipped ahead.
The Marauder's Map.
It should still be in Filch's office at this point. The twins hadn't nicked it yet.
Not that Sainz particularly coveted the map—it was the spellwork that fascinated him. A parchment that could track every person in the castle in real time, down to the broom closet?
Even Dumbledore couldn't escape its watchful gaze. The enchantments behind that were pure brilliance.
Still, it had its limits—it only displayed Hogwarts, after all. Did that mean it was somehow bound to the castle itself? Was the magic drawing from the ancient wards embedded in the stone?
"Doesn't matter," he muttered. "First thing's first—get the map."
There was a saying at Hogwarts: If you didn't get caught, you didn't break the rules.
By the time the sun was properly up, more students had emerged from the castle. Couples strolled by the lake, hands clasped and eyes dreamy.
Sainz, disinterested in what he mentally dubbed "early morning dog food," turned back toward the castle and made for the Great Hall.
After breakfast, he set out on the first task of the day: locating the Hogwarts kitchen.
It turned out to be remarkably close—just off the same underground corridor as the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room. He walked past the familiar still-life painting of a fruit bowl, this time stopping in front of it.
Reaching out, he scratched the pear.
It gave a giggle, wiggled in the frame, and turned into a gleaming doorknob.
Sainz grasped the handle and pushed.
The kitchen was nearly identical in size and layout to the Great Hall above. High ceilings arched overhead, and rows of gleaming copper pots hung along the walls. A massive brick fireplace loomed at one end, its hearth swept clean.
Four long tables stretched down the center of the room—mirroring the house tables above. Around them, a small army of house-elves bustled to and fro, cleaning, chopping, and preparing for the next meal.
Each elf wore a tea towel embroidered with the Hogwarts crest: a capital H overlaid on four colored quadrants, each bearing the animal of a house.
At the sight of a student entering, the elves froze.
Then chaos.
"Ah! A wizard has come to the kitchen!" cried one of them. "We're not meant to be seen! Oh no, Conte has failed—he must be punished!"
The elf called Conte immediately began slapping his own face, but Sainz rushed forward and stopped him.
"No—no, it's not your fault," he said quickly. "I barged in and disturbed your work. I should be the one apologizing."
There was a moment of stunned silence.
Then several elves burst into tears.
"What a kind young wizard!"
"Such manners!"
"Too kind—too kind!"
Sainz found himself surrounded by tiny, trembling hands reaching for his robes and tear-streaked faces gazing up at him in awe.
He didn't quite know what to say.
He felt a strange mix of amusement and sorrow. The house-elves' devotion wasn't just obedience—it was something deeper, something woven into their very being.
The old magical contracts that bound them had made servitude their life's purpose.
Some wizards treated them as tools. Others, as pests. Few ever saw them as people.
A gentle word, a small kindness—that was all it took to move them to tears.
Dobby had died for Harry Potter because of a kindness.
As the commotion settled, Sainz finally had a moment to study the elves more closely.
Just as Harry had described: small, skinny, about 70 or 80 centimeters tall. Enormous bat-like ears, bulbous eyes the size of tennis balls, and noses that ranged from comically long to almost nonexistent.
Their tea towels were clean, if worn, and Sainz realized with a pang that none of them had real clothes.
"I'm a first-year," he said gently. "My name is Sainz Autumn. I just came to say thank you—for the food. It's been wonderful."
The elves froze again.
Then burst into fresh tears.
"Oh! Mr. Autumn came just to say thank you—how noble, how moving..."
More sobs. More nose-blowing.
Sainz sighed, half-laughing to himself.
"Oh no," he murmured. "Here we go again."
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