The corridors of Hogwarts are quieter these days. Not just because of the war’s echoes, but because of the way eyes flick away when I pass. The whispers don’t even bother me anymore—I’ve learned to walk through them like smoke. But today, something shifted. A first-year, wide-eyed and clutching their books too tightly, actually smiled at me in the hallway. No recognition, no fear. Just… a smile. Funny how the smallest things feel like portkeys when you’ve been drowning. Maybe this castle isn’t just built of stone and old magic. Maybe it’s built of moments like these, too.